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Olivia

"I'm here to see Mr. Waters," I told the receptionist, my voice steady despite the knots twisting in my stomach. She barely acknowledged me, glancing at her screen quickly before vanishing down the hall.

Moments later, the door swung open, revealing him. An evil grin stretched across his face as if he merely relished the anticipation building in the air. "Aaliyah! My goodness, sweetie, you're back again!" he chuckled, ushering me into his office with a flourish.

Heart racing, I glanced at the plush chair behind his desk and asked, "Can I?" He smiled conspiratorially, his eyes glimmering with curiosity. I took a deep breath to mask my apprehension and inserted a USB drive into the computer, the familiar whirring noise cutting through the tension-filled atmosphere. As I began scrolling through files, I could feel his gaze burning into my forehead, urging me on.

I gestured for him to take a seat, and as he accepted, I moved behind him, the distance between us fraught with unspoken implications. Pressing 'play,' I allowed the video to unfold on the screen the day before replaying it in vivid detail.

As his face transitioned from amusement to shock, he leaped out of his chair, a mixture of anger and disbelief flooding his features. "What is this? You filmed us?" he demanded, a frantic tone creeping into his voice as he slammed his hand onto the desk to turn off the monitor; the room suddenly plunged into an unsettling silence that buzzed with tension.

"I'm 15, by the way. You never asked. But I thought you may want to know," I said to him, savoring the moment of power I wielded.

As the words left my mouth, I watched the color drain from his face, and his mouth opened in shock while he began to pace the floor frantically, "Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed, panic evident in his voice.

I couldn't help but chuckle softly; the blackmail felt intoxicating, and adrenaline surged as I realized I held the cards in this precarious game. "There's an art show tonight. And I want on the list," I said casually as if requesting a favor from an old friend rather than delivering a veiled threat.

His neck snapped my way in disbelief, horror etched across his features, "No! Are you crazy?" he shot back, disbelief giving way to anger.

I nodded in affirmation, feeling an exhilarating mix of defiance and determination. "I'm so desperate. If you don't get me in, I'll have to release the video," I threatened, the weight of my ultimatum punctuating the air between us like a heavy stone.

"You wouldn't do that," he replied, testing the boundaries of my resolve.

I smirked, not backing down for a second. "I'd do anything for fame," I remarked, my voice laced with an air of determination that surprised even me.

"Are you blackmailing me?" he asked incredulously, the realization washing over him like ice water.

"Call it what you want. Didn't you say Hollywood isn't about talent but favors?" I shot back, challenging his authority in this corrupt little world we occupied.

His nostrils flared in frustration, but he could see the truth in my words. "I'll get you into the event," he said finally.

I knew I had him cornered, but I seized the moment to solidify my advantage. "I'll need a check for...$25 grand. It's a black-tie event - I need to dress the part," I stated firmly, watching his protest falter in the face of my audacity.

"No, I'm doing you a favor," he protested weakly, but the resolve in his voice had begun to crack.

"Are you testing me? Because I don't have much to lose right now, Mr. Waters," I shot back, my conviction unwavering.

With a look of defeat and begrudging acceptance, he finally relented, and, shaking his head in disbelief, he uttered, "Here," slapping a check into my hand, "get out. And don't come back!"

The taste of victory was sweet on my tongue as I slipped away, the weight of my triumph thrumming through my veins, leaving me electrified with possibilities.

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