"Hearts at War"

Chapter 2

Looking at the billboard, I felt a rush of pride. It wasn’t just a striking image—it was a reflection of everything I had worked hard to achieve.

"Finally," I muttered under my breath as the cars ahead of me began to move. Without wasting a second, I pressed on the gas and resumed driving. It took nearly half an hour of navigating through the city’s chaotic traffic before I finally arrived at the photoshoot location.

As I stepped out of the car, Devon was already rushing toward me, his face lighting up dramatically the moment he saw me, as if he had just spotted an angel descending from the heavens. The sight made me chuckle softly despite myself.

“I thought you weren’t going to show up!” he exclaimed, his voice a mix of relief and exasperation. “Come on, let’s go. The makeup artists and hair stylists are ready—you’re the only one missing.”

Before I could respond, he grabbed my arm and practically dragged me toward the dressing room. His urgency was almost amusing, but I knew better than to test his patience any further.

“Surely they’re not angry with me, right?” I asked, a hint of uncertainty in my voice as I looked at Devon.

“No, not really,” he replied, though his tone was laced with a bit of a smile. “Except for one person in there—she’s been furious since earlier, practically on the verge of storming out. We managed to calm her down, though.”

His words made me raise an eyebrow, intrigued but also slightly apprehensive. Who could be that upset? And why? I couldn’t help but wonder what had caused such a strong reaction behind the scenes.

I raised an eyebrow, my curiosity piqued. As far as I remembered, this project was supposed to be a solo gig for me.

“Wait, I have someone else for the photoshoot?” I asked, the surprise evident in my voice as I glanced at Devon, seeking clarification. The thought of sharing the spotlight with someone else, especially on a shoot I believed was entirely mine, left me feeling a bit thrown off balance. Was there a last-minute change I hadn’t been informed about?

"Yes, dear. And don’t bother asking me who it is—I’m sure you wouldn’t like the answer," Devon said with a knowing look, his voice laced with something that almost sounded like amusement.

For a brief moment, I stood frozen, the words hanging in the air. Who could it be? I thought, my mind racing. I couldn’t help but wonder who would be joining me on this shoot. Devon's cryptic response only deepened my curiosity, leaving me feeling both intrigued and uneasy. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but something told me I wasn’t going to be thrilled by the surprise.

When we finally reached the dressing room, I froze in place, my feet rooted to the floor as my eyes fell on the person inside.

What the...

A rush of confusion and disbelief washed over me, my mind struggling to process the sight before me. Standing there, as calm and composed as ever, was someone I never expected to see today, let alone in this setting. My heart skipped a beat as I tried to make sense of the situation, my thoughts spinning wildly. Was this really happening?

I glanced at Devon, giving him a questioning look, but he just shrugged nonchalantly, as if this were the most ordinary thing in the world.

So this meant that she was the one I’d be sharing the photoshoot with? What the actual hell. Out of everyone, she was the last person I ever expected to be paired with. My mind raced as a mix of disbelief and frustration bubbled up inside me. Why her? Of all people, why her?

Annoyed and exasperated, I plopped onto the stool with a huff, my movements sharp and deliberate. That was it—my day was officially ruined.

The stylists immediately got to work, fussing over my hair and makeup, but no amount of pampering could mask the irritation brewing inside me. My thoughts raced, disbelief mingling with frustration. What kind of sorcery is this?

It wasn’t exactly a secret to anyone that the woman now sharing the room with me and I were on bad terms. Our animosity was practically public knowledge. And yet, here we were, being forced to work on the same project. Seriously, what did I do to deserve this stroke of bad luck? My mind reeled at the sheer absurdity of the situation, my mood sinking further with every passing moment.

Allow me to introduce: Olivia Romano—the woman I’ve loathed for the past two years.

She was sitting across the room, glaring at me through the reflection in the vanity mirror. Her face was etched with irritation, making it blatantly clear that she wasn’t thrilled about seeing me either. The disdain radiating from her was almost palpable, as if to say, I didn’t want to be here with you either.

Well, good news, Olivia—the feeling is mutual. She isn’t special, and she certainly doesn’t get under my skin. At least that’s what I tell myself.

But deep down, her mere presence was enough to ignite a fire of annoyance in me. God, I really hate her.

I’m not typically the type to act catty, but when it comes to this woman, Olivia Romano, my bitchy side tends to come out in full force. Honestly, I don’t even know why we irritate each other so much. This silent war between us started two years ago, and to this day, I have no idea what triggered it or where it all began.

If I’m being honest, I’ve long since grown tired of this ridiculous feud. I’ve thought about trying to make peace with her—maybe even be friends. But how could I, when she’s been nothing but nasty? The truth is, Olivia is a natural-born troublemaker, and she seems to thrive on drama. She’s the reason why things have escalated so badly between us over the years.

The media still loves to talk about our supposed “rivalry,” which only adds fuel to the fire. And as much as I rack my brain, I can’t remember ever doing anything to wrong her. We barely even spoke to each other back then. Yet, here we are, locked in a battle I didn’t start but have somehow become a part of.

And because her attitude irritates me to no end, I’ve ended up disliking her just as much as she seems to dislike me. Now, I guess you could say I’ve become a hater too.

Tch… and do you know what the worst part is? The media has completely twisted the issue beyond recognition. Now, everyone thinks our feud is because of some third-party nonsense, which couldn’t be further from the truth. Like, hello? Third party? What the hell? I can’t recall ever stealing anyone’s boyfriend—ever! For one, I have a boyfriend, and stealing someone else’s man is not, and never will be, part of my reputation.

I mean, I could easily get a man with just one blink of an eye, but that doesn’t mean I’m out here stealing them. Gosh, the media loves stirring up drama that doesn’t even exist.

Back then, my name was nearly tarnished because of all those ridiculous accusations. And who else could I blame for all the chaos but Olivia? She’s the root cause of every headache I’ve had for the past two years. She’s been dragging my name through the mud, and it pisses me off to no end.

And yet, there are people who actually dare to say she’s nice. Nice? Are you kidding me? That’s the fakest news I’ve ever heard! Olivia Romano, nice? Please. She’s Satan’s eldest daughter—a walking devil in disguise!