Chapter 8 : Ghost in the Trailer
462 Words
The docuseries hadn’t even aired yet, and already Zara felt exposed again.
The cameras were more subtle now—smaller crew, stripped-back production—but being real on screen turned out to be its own kind of performance. Some days it was empowering. Other days, it felt like she was bleeding on cue.
Then he showed up.
---
They were filming a quiet moment: Zara and Jesse in her backyard, drinking tea in mismatched mugs, talking about their worst auditions.
That’s when the car pulled into the driveway.
The crew turned instinctively—always hungry for the unexpected. A man stepped out, sunglasses low, confident like he’d been on camera before.
Zara’s mug froze midair.
“Who is that?” Jesse asked quietly.
Zara’s voice dropped. “His name’s Noah.”
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Noah Carter.
Former teen idol, tabloid magnet, and Zara’s ex. Not the public kind—the real one, the one no one knew about.
They’d met before she signed the Ever After contract. Back when she still thought love could be quiet. Before he burned that belief to ash.
And now here he was, uninvited and smiling like the cameras were rolling just for him.
---
“I heard about your little rebellion,” Noah said smoothly, walking right up to her. “Had to see it for myself.”
“You need to leave,” she replied, her voice cool.
He ignored that.
“Didn’t take you for the slow-burn type, Zara. Mr. Cameraman’s cute, but let’s not pretend you’ve always gone for low-profile.”
Jesse stepped forward, jaw tight. “You should go.”
Noah smirked. “Oh, I’m sure you’d love that.”
Zara stepped between them. “This isn’t a scene, Noah. You’re not part of this story anymore.”
But Noah’s eyes flicked to the hidden mic on her blouse, then to the crew watching from the edge of the yard.
“You sure about that?” he said. “Because I’ve got stories too. About the Zara no one’s seen yet. And maybe I’m tired of staying quiet.”
---
That night, the producers called.
“We didn’t invite him,” they insisted. “But if he’s on camera now, we have a right to use it.”
Zara paced the room, fists clenched. “He’s manipulating this.”
“Of course he is,” Jesse said, calm but cold. “And they’ll let him, because drama sells.”
She turned to him. “So what do we do?”
Jesse stepped forward, brushing her hair back from her face. “We tell your story first—before he can twist it.”
Her voice trembled. “I’m scared, Jesse.”
He nodded. “Then let’s be scared together. But let’s stay real.”
- Writer
