Chapter 2

[Rehearsing? You call cuddling up and whispering rehearsing? That guy's hand was practically on your waist. Was I overreacting?]

[No. I wanted to rush onto set and chop his hand off. I restrained myself. I tried so damn hard to restrain myself. Amber Turner, you really have no heart.]

I kept smiling on the outside, but inside I was screaming.

I murmured in my heart, "Deangelo, I messed up. I know I was wrong. I shouldn't have said any of that for the show. Please stop tearing me apart in your head. I can hear every word."

The recording ended in an unbearably awkward atmosphere. I fled the stage without even saying goodbye.

The moment I got into the van, Alana's call exploded through my phone.

She shouted, "Amber, are you out of your mind? Who told you to say that? Clingy? Possessive? Do you realize Deangelo's fans call themselves the Guardian Knights?

"You just danced straight onto a minefield. Your social media is going to be demolished tonight."

My head throbbed. I buried my face into the cushion, wishing I could vanish.

I knew. I knew exactly how bad it was.

But his thoughts had slammed into me so suddenly that I'd repeated them without thinking.

Who would have imagined that after a year of breaking up, instead of him chasing me, I'd end up subscribed to his mental livestream?

That night, the episode aired. My notifications exploded.

The top trending hashtag was "Amber Says Deangelo Is Clingy".

I clicked in. The comment section was a battlefield.

[LMAO. She calls him clingy? Is she dreaming? Deangelo's been in the industry for ten years, zero scandals, famously cold and career-focused. Paparazzi followed him for three years and only caught him with his cat.]

[Possessive? Please. At the awards ceremony, some actress tried to cling to him and he bounced off her like a spring.]

[She's just using his popularity. Got famous last year riding his name and still won't let go. Keep our king away from her.]

[I can confirm. Deangelo only loves music and the stage, not women.]

I scrolled calmly, expression blank. Honestly, I almost laughed.

They all worshipped him as a flawless prince. Only I knew how clingy and soft he could be when we were alone. Only I knew about the storm he hid behind that cold exterior.

And now, I could hear everything he thought.

Alana sent me a document titled "Crisis PR Plans A, B, C".

I didn't even open it. I replied: [Let me rot in peace.]

Honestly, I was already half-dead in the industry anyway. Let them roast me all they want. Bad press was still press, right?

Just as I was about to slack off and let myself go, my phone buzzed with a new message.

It was an invitation from Alana for a variety show: Life in the Fields.

I frowned. "What's this?"

"It's a slow-life farming variety show. Normally you wouldn't qualify, but your current buzz got you a special guest spot. Mountains, rivers, peaceful scenery. No rivals in the main cast. Perfect for image repair," she said eagerly.

Then she added, "I checked, none of your rivals are in the main cast, and the location looks amazing, mountains, rivers, the whole peaceful vibe. Just think of it as a chance to relax and maybe clean up your image a bit."

I was ready to say no, but the promise of peaceful countryside totally won me over.

If I could get far away from Deangelo, maybe I'd finally find peace, and maybe this cursed mind-reading ability would disappear.

"Fine. I'll go." I said.

Three days later, I arrived at the filming location, a southern village straight out of a painting.

The crew rented a two-story farmhouse surrounded by vegetables and fruit vines. A golden retriever lay by the door, tail wagging lazily.

I inhaled deeply. The air felt clean enough to wash my soul.

"Amber, you're here!" Louie Hussain ran over, smiling brightly.

I greeted him politely.

Out in the yard, the other two regulars, A-list actress Hollie Martin and comedian Harley Holt, greeted me with genuine warmth.

The atmosphere was almost ridiculously friendly.

The tight knot in my chest finally loosened. Thank God—no Deangelo, no echo of his thoughts invading my mind. For once, I could just exist as myself, wrapped in rare peace and quiet.

The director lifted the megaphone. "Let's welcome our guest star, Amber Turner. Today's task is pretty simple.

"The strawberries in the neighboring village are ripe. We need two people to pick them and trade them for tonight's cooking ingredients."

"I'll go! I'll go!" Louie shouted immediately, nearly hopping on the spot.

"We still need one more volunteer," the director added.

Hollie and Harley instantly started rubbing their lower backs, complaining about imaginary soreness and declaring themselves unfit for farm labor. As expected, every gaze shifted straight to me.

Well, that was the rookie life. Gotta suck it up.

"Fine, I'll go," I sighed, resigned, as I grabbed the straw hat.

Louie and I each took a basket and followed the map toward the neighboring village.