Livestream: The Hated Villainess Survives

Hungry?

The fish fat sizzled. Pop. A droplet hit the embers, sending a wisp of acrid smoke into the damp air.

I balanced the flake of white meat on the tip of my blade. I held it inches above Bryces nose.

The pop idol. The king of the charts. The man who walked like he owned the ground beneath his feet. Now? A broken dog with a snapped spine, belly-down in the mud.

His eyes bulged. Fixed on the meat. His throat worked, a wet, desperate clicking sound as he swallowed nothing but air.

"Please," he croaked, his hand, caked in filth, clawing toward me. "Give it to me"

Dignity didn't exist here. Hunger had eaten it first.

"Say it louder."

I looked down at him. Cold. Clinical. A scientist observing a specimen.

"Every detail. The fans you manipulated. The assistant you drove to suicide. Speak."

He didn't know.

Just beyond the reek of the moldy cave, a tiny red light blinked in the darkness.

Ten million people were watching his confession.

Chapter 1

"Two million. That's the cap."

"Three million. Not a penny less."

Sandra slammed her hand on the glass desk. "Jade! Are you delusional? Do you have any idea how toxic your reputation is right now? The company is doing you a favor getting you on this show. You should be on your knees thanking us, not price gouging."

Right. My reputation. And whose fault was that?

I refused to be an escort for investors. Some PR team planted stories that I was a "diva." They said I was "rolling my eyes at industry veterans."

A male artist from the same label sexually harassed me. I froze him out. They called me a "bully suppressing new talent."

If the Titanic sank today, theyd probably blame me for being the iceberg.

I took a slow sip of water. Unbothered.

"Two million is fine for just showing up," I said, locking eyes with her. "But you want me to play the villain. You want me to be the dirt that makes Amber look like a diamond. That? Thats premium pricing."

Sandra paused. She knew my contract was up in two months. She knew she needed a scapegoat.

"Fine."

I signed the contract for Ten Days in the Wild.

I hummed a tune as I walked out of the building.

I was already planning my exit strategy. The second this contract expired, I was quitting the industry.

First stop? The Sandbar Jungle. Id already scouted the coordinates.

God, just thinking about it gave me a dopamine hit.

Before I was Jade, the hated celebrity, I was a faceless survival vlogger. I had a million subs on the platform.

Twice a year, Id disappear into the wild. No script. No drama. Just survival. I was good at it.

Then a scout saw me shopping, dragged me into this hellhole, and I suffered for two years.

My hands were itching for a knife. I took this variety show for one reason only. It was a survival show.

My phone buzzed. Carly.

Check the trending topics.

I didn't need to look. I knew the script. The company marketing machine was already churning.

Jade and the Nation's Sweetheart Amber to star in survival show. Number one trending topic.

The comments section was a war zone.

Side A: The Amber Cult.

"Ahhh! My baby girl is so brave! Shes on the same show as Julian!"

"Wait, this show looks brutal. I hope Amber doesn't get hurt"

"Go Amber!"

Side B: The Jade Hate Train.

"How does she still get work? Did she save the CEO's life in a past life?"

"Seeing her face makes me physically ill. Can they recast?"

"Jade the Manipulative Bitch on a survival show? Shes definitely going to sabotage everyone."

"Stay away from my daughter!"

I scanned the vitriol.

Boring.

I closed my eyes and went to sleep.

Chapter 2

Filming day arrived.

A helicopter dropped us onto a deserted island.

The production crew confiscated our bags. No food. One bottle of water per person.

Amber pulled a hidden bag of potato chips from her coat. She held it up to the lens, pouting, doing her best impression of a sad puppy.

"Goodbye, my little chips. Mommys going to miss you."

I looked away.

I didn't need to check the stream to know the comments were already drowning in "Shes so cute!" and "Protect Amber at all costs!"

Amber knew exactly how to play the game.

There were five of us. Me. Amber. Julianthe multi-Academy Award winning actor, the untouchable god of the silver screen. And two boy band types: Bryce and Sam.

Bryce.

Bad luck.

He was the rookie whod sexually harassed me, got rejected, jumped ship to a rival agency, and reinvented himself as the "hot new idol."

He walked up to me, extending a hand, grinning like we were old friends.

I ignored him. I walked right past his outstretched hand.

I knew the internet would crucify me for it. Jade is such a diva. Jade is bullying the rookie.

I didn't care. I was retiring anyway. Let them talk.

First mission: Hike to the campsite alone.

We handed over our luggage. Before we left, I grabbed a Swiss Army knife from the pile of prohibited items. Just in case.

Julian watched me take the knife. His eyes flickered. Then, he reached out and took a lighter.

We walked for an hour.

The deeper we went, the wronger it felt.

The path vanished. Thorns tore at our clothes. The trees grew wild and choked with vines. There were no footprints. No trail markers.

We reached the coordinates for the base camp.

Empty.

No tents. No supplies. No staff.

"What's going on?" Amber spun around, her voice pitching up. "Where is everyone?"

"Did we take a wrong turn?" Bryce asked.

"Call production," Julian said. His voice was calm. Low.

There were no cameramen following us on this leg. Just us. We pulled out our phones.

Zero bars.

"Fuck! What is this shit?"

Amber snapped.

The curse word hung in the humid air. The "Nation's Sweetheart." The innocent girl next door. Dropping f-bombs.

Sam and Bryce froze, staring at her.

But Bryce wasn't exactly a saint either. He reached into his inner pocket and fished out a pack of cigarettes.

Amber saw the pack. Her eyes lit up. "Give me one."

She put the cigarette between her lips. Reached for a light. Stopped.

No lighter.

"Fuck!"

Bryce kicked a tree. Hard. Wood cracked. "What kind of hellhole is this? Where the fuck did those bastards go?"

He was raging. Wasting energy. A child throwing a tantrum because his toys were taken away.

I glanced at Julian.

He stood a few feet away. Perfectly still. He didn't look at his phone. He didn't kick a tree. He just watched them.

He had a lighter in his pocket. He knew they needed it.

He said nothing.

He was letting the hierarchy establish itself before the game even started.

Smart man.

"Sun's going down," Sam muttered, looking at the darkening sky.

Bryce kept screaming, taking his anger out on the vegetation. None of them noticed the bush to their left.

None of them saw the faint, rhythmic blink of a red light.

The hidden camera was rolling.

Chapter 3

The livestream feed was dominated by Bryces twisted, furious face.

Since the broadcast started two hours ago, Ten Days in the Wild had rocketed to the top of the video charts.

Ten million viewers.

This was the shows true selling point. Hidden cameras. No staff. No script. Just the raw, ugly reality of celebrities in the wild.

The confidentiality was watertight. Even the agencies were in the dark.

The comment section was a scrolling blur of text.

"Oh my god"

"Look at Amber holding that cigarette. That is not her first rodeo. Shes a chain smoker."

"Amber is an adult, okay? Let her live."

"Wow, Bryce has a mouth on him. That language is foul."

"Think about it. If you were dumped in the middle of nowhere, you'd be cursing too."

"Exactly. Bryce is just keeping it real. No fake persona here."

"Daddy Bryce looks so hot with a cigarette in his mouth."

"Wait is anyone watching Jade? Why is she so calm?"

"I was thinking the same thing. She's the only one who hasn't cracked. Wait, what is she doing?"

Chapter 4

I sized up a massive fallen tree trunk. I measured the dimensions with my eyes. Then I opened the Swiss Army knife.

I started carving.

Amber watched me, her lip curled in disgust. "What are you doing?"

"Making a bed."

Bryce walked over. His smile was greasy. Predatory. "Need a hand? You don't look like you have the strength for that."

"Get lost."

Bryce let out a cold laugh. "Still holding a grudge about last year? It was just a touch. Are you serious right now? Let's be real, I've had girls with way better bodies than you"

He didn't finish the sentence.

I brought the knife down.

Crack.

The blade bit into the wood. The log split with a violent snap.

I flipped the knife in my hand. Steel blurred.

The motion stopped instantly.

The tip of the blade hovered one inch from the center of his nose.

Bryce froze.

His Adam's apple bobbed. A hard, convulsive swallow.

He didn't say another word.

Chapter 5

The comment section detonated.

"Did did Bryce just admit to that?"

"You guys remember the headlines last year? 'Jade Bullies Rookie'?"

"So it wasn't bullying. It was Sexual Harassment. I'm actually gonna puke."

"Where are the Bryce stans? Where is your 'innocent boy' now?"

"Career suicide. Live in 4K."

"Disgusting."

"Stop reaching! The mic quality is trash. He probably said something else."

"The copium in this chat is lethal."

"If I was Jade, I wouldn't have stopped at the nose."

"Jade took the fall for a predator. For a whole year."

"Wait. Hold on. When did Jade carve out an entire shelter?"

"Does anyone remember that faceless YouTuber 'Jade'? This is literally her signature move."

"Where is Julian?"

Chapter 6

I stripped bark from a palm tree and lined the hollow log. I curled inside.

Tight, but functional.

I looked up. Julian was perched on a high branch. Hed woven vines into a makeshift hammock.

He looked down. Our eyes locked.

"Impressive," I said. "But did you factor in the rain?"

The sky opened up.

It didn't just rain. It poured.

Cold water hammered the jungle. I couldn't sleep. The dampness seeped into everything.

I didn't know where Amber or the others had scurried off to.

I peeked out.

Julian had climbed down. He was standing under the canopy of my tree, shoulders hunched, soaked to the bone.

The image triggered a memory.

The Award Gala, one year ago.

My agency forced me into a dress that was barely there. A wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen.

Julian had walked past me. Without a word, he tossed his suit jacket over my shoulders. Then he walked onto the stage to accept his trophy, looking like a god in shirtsleeves.

I looked at him now. Shivering in the mud.

"Want to come in?"

The words left my mouth before I checked them.

He hesitated. Rain dripped from his eyelashes.

He ducked and crawled in.

"Thanks." His voice was rough.

The log was built for one petite woman. Not one woman plus a broad-shouldered man.

We were jammed together. My neck was cranked at a painful angle against the wood.

"Sorry."

His breath hit the back of my neck. Low. Vibrating through my skin.

I shifted, trying to find space where there was none.

"Turn around," he murmured.

I flipped.

He pulled me back against him.

The distance between us vanished. His chest became my wall. His thighs aligned with mine.

Big spoon. Little spoon.

There was no negative space.

I could feel the heavy, steady thud of his heart against my spine. His arm draped over my waist. Heavy. Possessive. A steel band locking me in place.

The cold damp of the jungle faded.

He was a furnace.

His body heat radiated through my wet clothes, searing my skin. Every inch of him was imprinted on every inch of me.

It was the most comfortable position in the world.

And the most dangerous.

Damn it.

The chat screen turned into a wall of text.

Chapter 7

"If you aren't shipping this, you're blind."

"OH MY GOD. I am screaming."

"The chemistry! I am obsessed!"

"You guys have low standards. Jade is a total pick-me. Get away from Julian!"

"Jade, back off! Stop trying to seduce him!"

"Honestly? Without her, Julian would be hypothermic right now. Im just a passerby, but even I can see she saved him."

"This show is going to blow up."

"It's 2 AM. Why are there still ten million people watching?"

"Where is Bryce the trash bag? Switch cameras."

"Watch your mouth. It's probably scripted. Don't spread rumors without proof."

"Is it a rumor? Just keep watching."

Chapter 8

Sleep was a joke.

I was up at the first gray light of dawn.

Plan A: Retrace our steps. If the production crew was looking for us, the drop zone was the logical meeting point.

I didn't ask Julian to come.

I didn't have to. He just fell into step beside me, silent and synchronized.

We hiked back to where the helicopter had landed.

Empty.

No people. No tents. No equipment. Just a single sheet of paper, trapped under a rock near the banyan tree.

It was sodden with rain, the ink bleeding, but the message was legible.

Storm damage. Equipment failure. Crew members exhibiting high fever. Suspected contagion. Emergency evacuation.

Translation: We left you. Good luck.

Abandoned.

It was absurd. It was a fact.

I stared up at the sky, a silent string of expletives running through my brain.

Julian followed my gaze. "What are you looking at?"

"The sun came out."

"Mn."

"Even God is speechless at this bullshit."

""

I took a breath. Fine.

If they wanted a survival show, Id give them a survival show. This wasn't a crisis. This was my playground.

My personal record was seventy-eight days solo in a primal forest. I only tapped out because I ran out of salt.

This was just homecoming.

Day One of real survival. Priority: Shelter.

I turned on my heel and headed deeper into the jungle. Julian shadowed me.

I spotted a cluster of wild roots beneath a banyan tree. I knelt, dug them up, and tossed a few to him.

"Starch. Eat."

He caught them. He didn't wipe off the dirt. He didn't hesitate. He popped a root into his mouth.

He chewed, swallowed, then looked at me. "You're calm. You seem to know your way around."

I looked him dead in the eye.

"I watched it on TV," I deadpanned. "Im like, fifty percent sure thats not poison."

He didn't stop chewing. The corner of his mouth hooked up. A dark, amused smirk.

"If you poison me, you'll have to live with the guilt forever," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "You'd be forced to think about me every single day. Honestly? Worth it."

I rolled my eyes.

The man was an actor down to his bones.

Even now, he was selling the scene.

Chapter 9

By 1:00 PM, I followed the topography uphill from our last resting spot. I found a cave.

But it was occupied.

The Three Stooges were already there.

Amber was curled in a corner, hugging her knees. Bryce and Sam were hunched over a pile of dry wood, aggressively rubbing two sticks together.

I almost laughed out loud. It was like watching toddlers try to perform surgery.

I turned to leave.

"Hey!" Sam called out. His eyes locked onto the bulge in my pocket. The wild fruit. "The cave is big enough. You guys should stay."

They hadn't eaten in twenty-four hours. They didn't know what was poison and what wasn't. They were running on fumes.

I calculated the odds. Rain was coming. This was the best shelter.

"Fine."

I walked in. I tossed a handful of fruit to Sam.

Bryce saw the food. Instinct took over. He reached out, his dirty fingers grabbing for my stash.

Wham.

My boot connected with his wrist. Hard. I kicked his hand away like I was clearing trash from the sidewalk.

"Don't touch," I said, my voice flat. "Isn't this garbage a little beneath you, Bryce? Surely Mr. Superstar is used to groping better goods than this?"

"You"

Bryce's face turned purple. He surged forward.

Then he met Julian's eyes.

Julian didn't move. He didn't speak. He just looked at him.

Bryce froze. The fight drained out of him, replaced by pure self-preservation. He sat back down.

Amber hadn't moved. She looked at the fruit with undisguised revulsion.

"Dogs wouldn't eat that garbage," she sneered. "Someone is coming to get us. Soon. Have some backbone, for God's sake."

I looked at her.

Backbone?

Cute.

In the wild, "backbone" is just calories you burn before you die. Hunger and cold don't care about your dignity.

She would learn. The hard way.

Night fell.

Bryce had been drilling wood for an hour. His palms were covered in blisters. No smoke. No spark. Just sweat and failure.

Julian sat against the wall, watching him.

Slowly, deliberately, Julian reached into his pocket.

Click.

A flame danced from the silver lighter.

Bryce stared at the fire. Then he exploded. "You have a fucking lighter? Why didn't you say something?!"

Julian looked at him. Bored.

"You didn't ask."

He paused. The flame reflected in his dark eyes.

"And even if you had asked," he added softly, "I wouldn't have told you."

I snorted.

Chapter 10

Early morning. I grabbed my knife. Hunting time.

Julian and Sam volunteered to join me. I taught them how to weave fish traps and we set them in the river.

By afternoon, they went to check the land snares. I went to the river alone.

Big mistake. Or maybe, exactly the opportunity I needed.

Bryce followed me.

He didn't make a sound until he hit me.

Impact.

He tackled me from behind. Momentum carried us down.

My back slammed into the riverbank. Sharp gravel bit through my shirt, slicing into skin. Pain flared. White-hot. Immediate.

Bryce pinned me. His weight was heavy, suffocating. He was already tearing at my clothes, his breath reeking of rot and desperation.

"You think you're so tough?" he hissed, spittle flying onto my face."You think you can act like a queen in this shithole? You think Julian can save you?"

He pressed his forearm against my throat. Air cut off.

"I'm going to fuck you right here. Then I'm going to hold your head under that water until you stop kicking. No one will find you. Scared yet? Beg me, bitch."

"Scared? My ass."

My hand scrambled in the mud.

Cold. Hard. Jagged.

Rock.

I gripped it. I swung.

Crack.

Stone met temple. The sound was wet. Sickening.

Bryces eyes rolled back. His grip slackened.

Adrenaline hijacked my system. Pain vanished. Time slowed.

I didn't push him off. I used his dead weight against him.

I grabbed his collar. Twisted my hips. Leveraged.

Heave.

He went over. Splash.

I didn't let him float. I grabbed a handful of his hair and shoved his face into the riverbed.

"Scum like you making money in this industry?" I snarled, forcing his head down as he thrashed. "The people who paid for your lifestyle must have shit for brains."

Chapter 11

The chat, which had been scrolling at light speed with insults towards Bryce, froze for a microsecond.

Then it detonated.

"Stop scaring him! The poor baby knows he's wrong now! Boohoo."

"I spent a grand voting for him on that idol show. I should have bought dog food. At least a dog wags its tail."

"Don't insult dogs."

"My brain really was full of shit. Jade is the GOAT. I am on my knees."

"From this day forward, my wallet belongs to Jade."

"Kill him! Kill the beast! I am literally shaking with rage right now!"

Chapter 12

When Bryce woke up, he was hog-tied in the back of the cave.

The gang was back.

I didn't explain the bruises. I didn't explain the rope.

I just cooked.

I cleaned the fish. I roasted the crabs. I baked the cassava roots in the coals.

The smell of savory fat and sweet starch filled the damp air.

I dragged Bryce into the firelight.

"I caught the fish. I trapped the crabs. I dug the roots." I looked around the circle. "I distribute the food. Any objections?"

Julian smiled. A dark, amused thing. He shrugged.

Sam shook his head vigorously.

I picked up a piece of steaming cassava. Golden. Fluffy.

I crouched in front of Bryce.

"Hungry?"

He and Amber hadn't eaten in forty-eight hours. Their bodies were in starvation mode. The smell was driving them insane.

Bryce stared at the food, his throat working convulsively.

Amber broke first.

She crawled over on her hands and knees. Dirt smeared her face. "I want it. Please."

I didn't look at her. "Wait. Not your turn."

I kept my eyes on Bryce. "Well?"

He nodded. Frantic. Desperate.

"Then talk," I said. My voice was low. Soft. Terrifying. "Start from the beginning. Every female artist you harassed. Every assistant you cornered. Names. Dates. Locations. Don't leave a single detail out."

He froze.

Then his stomach roared.

He looked at the camera lens he couldn't see, and then at the food. He broke.

"March 2019. Dressing room. I touched my assistant."

I nodded. "More than once. She quit. Severe depression."

"January 2019. Company elevator." His head hung low, chin touching his chest. "I touched you."

"Keep going."

"July 2020. After the concert. I drugged a fan. And then"

I finished the sentence for him.

"Then she killed herself. But there was no evidence. You walked free."

His voice dropped to a whisper.

"Just now. By the river. I harassed you"

I wagged a finger.

"Friendly legal tip, Bryce. That wasn't harassment. That was attempted rape."

Chapter 13