Chapter 1

I went to visit my fiancé, the award-winning actor Rolf Marshall, on his film set.

Halfway through, he and the sweet-faced second female lead claimed they needed to rehearse, then vanished without a trace.

While I was checking out the prop room with Dexter Ramsey, the director, something bizarre happened.

Suddenly, a flood of strange comments appeared right before my eyes.

[Whoa, this is insane. The male lead and female lead are actually hooking up in a coffin.]

[Oh snap! That wicked woman is coming over. Luckily, the male lead was quick and closed the coffin lid just in time, or things would've gotten real messy.]

[What a shame, they got interrupted right at the best part. The male lead and female lead must be so frustrated right now.]

[But the female lead has claustrophobia. Even with the male lead by her side, she probably won't be able to hold out for long.]

I froze. So when Rolf said he was "working on his acting," what he really meant was sneaking off to mess around with the new girl in the prop room.

No wonder I heard that loud crash when I came over earlier.

Just as I was about to step forward, Rolf's assistant, Martin Arnold, stopped me with a super awkward expression.

"Hey, you really shouldn't go over there. The props just got a fresh coat of paint, and the smell's pretty nasty. Better stay back," Martin said.

The comments were going wild: [This assistant's actually pretty cool, covering for Rolf like that. Rolf should totally give him a raise.]

[But Rolf's got some serious skills. He just kissed the female lead so hard she could barely stand.]

[Oh man! Someone, please drag that wicked woman away so Rolf and the female lead can keep going.]

Wishful thinking.

I flashed a smile and turned to Dexter. "Mr. Ramsey, didn't you say this coffin was solid wood? Honestly, it looks pretty fake to me. How about you close the lid and check? I heard knocking on a real wood coffin sounds different from a regular one."

Martin and the comment section were both stunned.

[Oh no, I've got a really bad feeling about this... Is she seriously planning to suffocate those two in the coffin?]

*****

As soon as I said that, the air in the prop room went completely still.

Martin's face turned pale, sweat breaking out on his forehead as he stammered, trying to stop me, "Nicole, are you sure? The crew spent a ton of money on this coffin. There's no way it's fake. Honestly, I don't think we need to test it..."

I ignored him, shooting Dexter a smug, almost mocking smile.

Dexter was famous for being a total maniac about authenticity—he demanded absolute realism from his props.

For his last film, he even had someone haul in a whole set of old doors and windows straight from a rural farmhouse just for the set.

Sure enough, as soon as he heard my suggestion, he didn't care if I was right or not.

He waved his hand and barked at the crew, "Get some people over here! Grab some long nails and hammers. Nail this coffin shut! I want to see if it's really solid wood."

Martin's legs went weak, and he nearly collapsed right then and there.

He planted himself in front of the coffin, his voice shaking. "Mr. Ramsey, seriously, you don't have to test it. I swear, this coffin is solid wood."

I arched an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Martin, your guarantee doesn't mean much.

"The way you're guarding this coffin... is there something—or someone—in there you don't want anyone to see?"

"Mr. Ramsey, how about we just pop it open and see for ourselves?"

Before Dexter could say a word, Martin jumped in again. "Mr. Ramsey, seriously, there's nothing in there. It's totally empty. I promise!"

Dexter was getting pretty fed up with Martin constantly getting in his way. Right now, all he cared about was proving if the coffin was legit or not.

So, without giving Martin another chance to stop him, Dexter waved his hand.

Soon, a few burly crew members came over, each carrying a hammer and long nails.

Right then, the barrage of comments was exploding on my screen.

[Oh crap, oh crap! Is this wicked woman onto them or what?]

[Rolf's still in there, holding the female lead! If they really start hammering, those two are gonna lose their minds!]

[What now? Rolf, dude, you better come up with something quick.]

Come up with something? Rolf? He's probably too panicked to think straight right now.

Meanwhile, Martin was dragged off to the side, with someone clamping a hand over his mouth.

I wasn't about to let him mess up my plan by making a scene.

With a thud, the first nail was hammered in.

From inside the coffin came a muffled noise, like someone's mouth was being covered to keep them quiet.

"What was that?" Dexter frowned, leaning in to listen, but I grabbed his arm.

"Probably just the wood expanding or contracting. Don't worry about it, Mr. Ramsey. Keep nailing," I said, a cold smile playing on my lips.

"Alright! Move faster!" Dexter barked.

The hammer kept banging against the wood.

The comments section was going wild: [Ah! Muriel's claustrophobia is acting up. She's about to suffocate!]

[Rolf's biting his tongue, desperately staying silent so they won't get caught.]

[This wicked woman is seriously ruthless. Once Rolf gets out, he should divorce her and let Muriel take her place!]

Ruthless? I've been engaged to Rolf for three years, using every connection my family has to boost his career.

He started out as a total nobody, a bottom-tier actor, and I helped him climb all the way to the top, winning that Best Actor trophy.

To protect his fragile ego, I always kept my real identity under wraps, telling everyone I was just a minor screenwriter.

So, what did I get for all that?

Now he was busy flirting with Muriel Carter, the new rising star, acting all "faithful to me, not interested in any other woman" in public, but behind the scenes, he was sneaking off to the prop room for his little adventures.

If you guys are so obsessed with chasing thrills, then I'll make sure you get exactly what you want.

"Mr. Ramsey, just nailing the four corners isn't enough. Why not add four more nails?" I suggested calmly, drawing out each word.

Martin finally managed to break free, rushing over to the coffin in a panic, shouting desperately, "Don't nail it. Don't nail it! There are people inside! Rolf and Muriel are both in there."

As soon as he said that, the whole place went dead silent.

Dexter's face was so dark it could scare a ghost.

The crew members froze, hammers in hand, exchanging uneasy glances, not sure if they should keep going or stop.

I covered my mouth in mock shock. "Wait, what? You mean Rolf and Muriel—just the two of them, alone together in a coffin in broad daylight?"

Martin collapsed to the floor, not even bothering to explain himself anymore.

Dexter's face was dark as thunder as he waved his hand, telling the crew to pry out the nails they'd just hammered in.

With a creak, the heavy coffin lid swung open with a loud groan.

Inside, two figures were entangled in a total mess.

Rolf's clothes were all rumpled—two buttons on his shirt had burst open, and there was a clear lipstick mark stamped right on his cheek.

Muriel, the so-called "innocent sweetheart," was wrapped around him like an octopus, her face flushed, tears clinging to her lashes, looking like she'd just been scared senseless.