Chapter 1

I cried easily. Like, embarrassingly easily. I was known in the industry as the resident crybaby.

Then I ended up on a horror reality show. It was filmed in a house where people had actually died.

Somehow, instead of screaming, I ran through the place, crying my eyes out, dragging the whole team with me—and singing at the top of my lungs just to stay calm. Against all odds, I didn't just survive the show. I stole it.

The internet lost its mind. Comments were everywhere: [Respect. Absolute legend.]

*****

I'd been out of work for half a year when a variety show suddenly invited me to join the cast. The production team was stacked—top-tier across the board.

For a small-time nobody like me in showbiz, it was pure dumb luck—like a pie falling from the sky.

But my agent, Selena Parker, was already turning gray with worry. "Emily, everyone joining the show has to sign a waiver..." she said, pulling out the document, her words trailing off.

Because this was a horror-themed reality show. The first of its kind in the country. Big budget, no expense spared, promising an authentic bone-chilling experience.

And I was famously known in the industry as a professional crybaby.

I cried while filming action scenes. I cried during interviews if someone raised their voice. A bug could slide off my sleeve, and my eyes would instantly turn red.

People trashed me online, saying I was fake, dramatic, and trying too hard. But honestly? I felt completely wronged.

I wasn't acting. I had a legit condition—I cried on reflex.

Ever since I was a kid, the moment I got emotional, the tears came flooding out. Sometimes I cried so hard I couldn't even get words out.

Take the so-called "crying on set," for example. That happened because the rigging guy messed up, and I was arguing my case.

The interview meltdown? The reporter was being sharp-tongued and nasty, and I was clapping back.

Stuff like that happened all the time. I was actually pretty fierce—loud, stubborn, and ready to throw down—but thanks to my tear ducts going rogue, I always end up looking way less intimidating than I really am.

When I was little, I once got into a fight with an older boy in the courtyard. I started crying uncontrollably—while pinning him to the ground and punching him.

Then his parents showed up. They took one look at me bawling my eyes out and assumed I was the victim. So they turned around and beat the hell out of their own kid.

From that day on, I earned the reputation of "the one who cries at everything."

And that label followed me straight into the entertainment industry.

I asked the company to help clear my name, but they couldn't care less. They actually thought the "crybaby" label would bring in more attention and views.

Over time, that was all anyone saw when they looked at me.

I got pissed, but what could I do? I just had to suck it up and keep the bitterness to myself.

"Maybe we should let this one go. That waiver isn't just for show. If something actually goes wrong and you get scared half to death on camera, the company's going to be in serious trouble." Seeing that I still hadn't said anything, Selena leaned in and tried to talk me out of it.

But the moment she got close and really looked at my face, she couldn't help but taken aback by how stunning I was.

I was good-looking. People in the industry dragged me for being fake, delicate, and putting on airs—but no one had ever come for my face.

"Maybe we should just play it safe," she said at last. "Stick to being pretty wallpaper." She'd completely backed out.

But before she could pull the contract away, I picked up the pen, signed my name fast, and slid it back to her.

"It's fine," I said. "I can handle it."

After all, I was a max-level horror junkie.

*****

The show premiered soon after. The meet-up was set for midnight in a deserted graveyard.

To sell the realism, the production went all in—hidden cameras, full livestream, and even the guest list was kept secret. Each cast member only revealed themselves once filming officially started.

The comments exploded. [Lucas Grant? They actually got Lucas!]

[Sophie Evans is here too—this is hilarious. Last time everyone else lost their minds in a haunted house, she calmly drank her coffee. In her interview, she said she was born with nerves of steel.]

[Calling it now, there must be six guests—three badasses and three wimps. Not curious how the badasses act tough, just want to see how the scared ones lose it.]

As each guest's identity was revealed, the hype kept climbing.

Besides Lucas and Sophie, there were Ryan Lee, the action star; Max Stone, the stone-cold tough guy; and Jack Turner, a retired pro athlete. Basically, a lineup of walking testosterone and unbreakable nerves. All except the final guest—who still hadn't shown up.

The audience started buzzing: [Why's the last one taking so long?]

[The show's all about horror, but everyone so far is fearless—what's the angle here?]

[But think about it— if they're all fearless, how messed up is this show going to be?]

Just as the whole internet was on the edge of their seats, the last van finally rolled into view.

The window slid down. Under countless cameras, my face appeared inch by inch. And the internet lost its mind.

[Holy crap—why is the crybaby here?]

[Now it makes sense why they invited five badasses. Turns out the real trump card was the crybaby.]