𝐏𝐎𝐏 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓 [thriller]

❝Do something interesting, fuck another man.❞

One night. One test. One man between them.
A pop star. An accomplice. A predator. A ghost with a shotgun.
...
Carmen Wilder had a rule: Prove you're interesting.
Louis Tomlinson knew the game. He'd played it before.
Harry Styles had a problem. He was already obsessed.

No matter how many warnings the Rasta whispered, Harry couldn't hear.

She tasted like cocktails and cyanide, and when she told him the price of her love, he didn't even hesitate.
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𝘿𝙞𝙙 𝙬𝙚 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙤𝙧 𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙄 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙?
𝙂𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙞𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙
𝙎𝙤 𝙄 𝙜𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙄'𝙡𝙡 𝙙𝙤 𝙢𝙮 𝙗𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙖𝙣
['𝙋𝙊𝙋 𝙏𝘼𝙍𝙏' 𝙗𝙮 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙮 𝙎𝙩𝙮𝙡𝙚𝙨]
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He was a popstar. She was a myth. Louis was somewhere in between.
When Harry Styles walks barefoot into Carmen Wilder's penthouse, he doesn't walk back out the same.
She gives him one rule: fuck Louis Tomlinson.
And Harry listens.

What follows is a tour through cities soaked in champagne and sweat: rooftops, opium dens, cryogenic clubs, and bloodstained beds. Carmen leaves lipstick messages on mirrors. Louis fucks like he's been here before - because he has. And Harry? He starts losing track of what's real.

There are rules. There are cameras. There's a dead couple whose shadow haunts the game. And somewhere beneath the glitter and the drugs and the bruised lips, there's a popstar who thought he was untouchable. He wasn't.

This isn't a love story. It's a slow, glittering collapse.
Welcome to the end of the popstar myth. Bring your own Polaroid.

❝Carmen doesn't kill popstars. She makes them want to die.❞