The Ice-Cold A-Lister Forgot His Burner Account

My phone was blowing up. A hideous photo of me had just hit the #1 trending spot.

An army of haters was throwing a massive party in the comments, branding me a botched plastic hag.

A second later, a single reply nuked the entire thread.

I grew up with her. Whoever dares to hide behind a screen and spread rumors about her, I'll have my legal team sue you into bankruptcy. Try me.

The verified account: Weston. The entertainment industry's most untouchable A-lister, famous for freezing everyone out.

My fingers trembled as I hit his contact. The aggressive, rapid-fire clacking of a mechanical keyboard blasted through the speaker.

"You forgot to switch to your burner." I gripped the edge of the table. "Delete it. Right now."

"I didn't forget." A dark, dangerous scoff scraped through the line. "I'm going to bury every last one of these trolls."

Chapter 1

I was the entertainment industry's current "it" girl. My popularity skyrocketed after landing a string of incredibly likable roles.

The agency smelled money, capitalizing on my commercial value by burying me in high-fashion campaigns overnight. Naturally, I slaughtered every red carpet, armed with my striking face and flawless styling.

The raw, unedited photos dropped, instantly dominating the trending charts. Masses of people were practically worshipping my visuals. My celebrity influence index surged at a terrifying speed.

My agent couldn't stop grinning, and I was running on zero sleep.

But recently, a massive headache dropped into my lap.

Someone leaked a hideous old middle school photo of me right after I got my wisdom teeth pulled. Thanks to the horrific camera angle, my face looked like a swollen balloon with puffy eyesa far cry from how I looked now. What followed was a massive wave of ugly photos of strangers I didn't even recognize. Anyone with features remotely resembling mine had my name slapped onto them.

Consequently, rumors about me getting extensive plastic surgery went viral.

[ I knew she looked too good to be true! Turns out she's entirely manufactured! ]

[ I could totally tell her face was stiff during that red carpet. Full of fillers and Botox, guaranteed. ]

[ I only stanned her for her looks. Seeing the before and after this is literal fraud. ]

[ I'm so done. Just another plastic monster. Cancel her! ]

While public opinion was hitting its boiling point, I was trapped in a studio shooting a new fashion magazine cover.

Shelby, a fellow actress on set, slammed her phone down hard onto the vanity. She rolled her eyes so hard they nearly stuck there, letting out a cold scoff. "Pumping yourself full of Botox will never cover up how cheap you actually are, you plastic doll."

She had been gunning for the cover, but thanks to my skyrocketing popularity, the magazine relegated her to the centerfold. Her bitterness was entirely predictable.

I barely cared. I simply shut my eyes, letting the makeup artist work, pretending her pathetic jab didn't even reach my ears.

But a few minutes later, my assistant rushed over, her face pale with stress. "P-Piper, this is bad. You need to look at Twitter right now!"

My stomach dropped. The recent backlash was all just people trashing me for plastic surgery, which we both knew about. Her extreme reaction meant something way worse had just dropped.

I gripped my phone, my pulse spiking as I unlocked the screen.

I fully expected to be dragged. I expected to lose followers.

But I never in a million years expected my elusive childhood friendthe untouchable A-list actorto be actively brawling with haters online because of me.

Eight minutes ago, Weston posted a tweet.

[ She's looked exactly like this since she was eight. What the hell would she even need to fix? ]

Even though he didn't name-drop me, one glance at the trending list made it obvious who "she" was.

His massive fanbase lost their minds.

[ Bro, how the hell do you know that? ]

[ You post once every six months and it's to defend a woman? I'm sobbing. Literal tears. ]

[ This isn't him, right? His assistant got hacked, right?! ]

Weston ignored the chaotic meltdown happening in his mentions.

Except for one specific type of comment.

[ Acting like he actually knows her. He's probably just a highly paid PR bot hired by Plastic Piper. Pathetic. ]

Chapter 2

Weston went feral over those specific comments. He morphed into an elite keyboard warrior, gunning down the trolls with zero mercy.

[ I grew up with her. You think you know her better than I do? ]

[ Keep spreading baseless rumors, and I'll personally see to it that my lawyers rip you to shreds. Try me. ]

His combat power was so lethal it would put seasoned internet trolls to shame.

I stared at my screen, scrolling through the thread in disbelief.

The WestonPiper hashtag was dominating the number one trending spot, with a red "Exploding" icon flashing next to it.

My makeup artist had gone into full spectator mode, her brush strokes slowing down to a crawl as she eavesdropped. Beside me, Shelbys face twisted into a knot of bitter jealousy and confusion. The photographer fiddled with his camera, whispering frantically to the lighting tech. Even the editor-in-chief swiped at his phone, his features pinched in tight.

My assistant finally broke the heavy silence, her voice trembling. "Piper is Weston going to lose massive followers over this?"

That snapped me back to reality. My stomach dropped as the full weight of the fallout hit me. I aggressively dialed Westons number, spam-calling him.

To the public, we had zero connection. We hadn't even worked on a project together. If he nuked his career defending me, what the hell was the internet going to think?

The second the call connected, the aggressive clack-clack-clack of a mechanical keyboard assaulted my ear. He was still deep in the trenches of the comment section.

"What?" he snapped, his tone distracted. "Make it quick. I'm busy."

I bit down on my tongue to stop myself from screaming. "Did you forget to log into your burner account?"

"Hmm?" The relentless typing paused.

I exhaled a sharp breath. I knew it. The idiot had used his verified main account by mistake. What a complete

Before I could rip into him, Westons dark, adrenaline-fueled voice cut through the line.

"No." A low, dangerous scoff vibrated through the speaker. "I'm using my main on purpose. I'm going to bury these trolls alive."

My blood pressure spiked dangerously. But before I could yell at him, my assistant shoved her phone under my nose, her hand trembling.

I snapped my head down.

The original hashtag of our names had vanished. A brand-new trending topic had overthrown it:

[ Weston & Piper Living Together ]

A massive, crimson [ BREAKING ] tag flashed right beside it. Every muscle in my body locked up.

Clicking the hashtag led straight to a notorious paparazzi account. They had compiled high-definition paparazzi shots of Weston and me entering the exact same luxury apartment complex on multiple separate occasions. They even pulled up our rare, old selfies side-by-side. The interior backgrounds matched perfectly.

The nail in the coffin was a screenshot from one of Weston's rare home livestreams. A bright red circle highlighted an unassuming piece of clothing tossed carelessly onto the corner of his couch.

It was an exact match to a custom jacket I was photographed wearing at the airport that same week. A jacket Weston had never been seen wearing.

The internet's verdict: Weston and I were secretly living together.

The comment section was a literal war zone.

[ Wait, since when were they a thing?! Have they even been in the same room together? I have zero memory of this! ]

[ This girl is a master manipulator. She just barely got famous, and now shes leaching off an A-listers clout? Her engagement is going to skyrocket. ]

[ Holy shit! The comment above just cracked the code! ]

[ Now that I think about it, our Weston is always so polite and low-key. When has he EVER spoken like that online? Omg what if Piper stole his phone and posted those tweets herself to manufacture drama? ]

Chapter 3

[ Exactly! I felt like Weston was possessed today. But if Plastic Piper stole his phone, it makes perfect sense! ]

[ Im so done with her. She doesnt even have the guts to clear her name on her own account? And intentionally posting misleading shit like that? What a manipulative bitch. ]

[ Weston, wake up! Are you blind? Can we please get a different girl for him? Im literally going to unfollow if this is real ]

[ Get this fake, calculating snake out of the industry! ]

I scrolled through the toxic thread until a violent curse exploded through my phone speaker. "Fuck! These brain-dead trolls! Are they clinically insane?!"

Weston had seen the new trending hashtag.

The furious clicking of his keyboard revved up again. My pulse hammered against my temples. I gripped the phone, raising my voice to cut through his adrenaline.

"Weston, snap out of it!" I snapped, my voice sharper than I'd ever used with him.

"Go delete every single post with a swear word in it. Right now. Do it!"

The line went dead silent. The commanding tone clearly caught him off guard. After a long, heavy beat, a low, subdued grumble vibrated through the speaker. "Fine."

I hung up, rushed through the rest of the shoot, and bolted straight to my manager, Pamela.

The situation had spiraled out of control. An avalanche of hate comments and hit pieces crushed down on me.

Pamela snatched my phone the second I walked into her office. "No more screen time. I'm holding onto this."

Honestly, my breathing remained steady. The day I signed my first contract, I built a thick skin. You don't survive in this industry without taking a few hits.

Pamela crossed her arms, her gaze narrowing. "But seriously are you two actually living together?"

I rubbed the back of my neck. "Eleanor told me to keep a close eye on him"

It was the absolute truth. Weston's mom, Eleanor, had been overwhelmingly persuasive, and I literally couldn't say no. But honestly, when I moved in, I was heavily eyeing Weston's massive luxury mansion. A rooftop garden, an infinity pool it screamed pure, filthy wealth.

Pamela shot me a withering glare. "You are both high-profile public figures now. The second you slip up, ten paparazzi will be breathing down your neck."

I swallowed hard, remembering Weston aggressively bragging about how impenetrable his neighborhood's security was. He swore no paparazzi could even get a lens through the gate. Clearly, he was full of shit.

By the end of the day, Weston had bled a million followers overnight. I fared a bit better, strictly because my follower count wasn't astronomical to begin with.

Pamela rubbed her temples, exhausted. "Your public image is on life support. We have no choice. We're throwing you into a reality dating show to salvage this mess."

Before I could process it, Weston and I were shoved onto the cast list of a live-broadcast dating show.

Right before I left, Pamela gripped my shoulders. "This is your only shot to clear your name."

"It's live. Raw. Authentic. Do not screw this up."

I gave her a firm nod. "Don't worry. Weston and I will crush this."

Thanks to the nonstop hit pieces, I was the most debated cast member in the live chat before the cameras even started rolling. My engagement was higher than Weston's.

Naturally, every single comment was demanding my head on a spike.

Chapter 4

They accused me of using every dirty trick in the book to manufacture hype, saying I had zero shame left. I watched the engagement metrics explode on my screen. Being hated to death was still a form of fame, I guessed.

Besides Weston and me, there were a few other high-profile cast members. The standout was an actress named Clara. She was the textbook definition of a pure, innocent girl-next-door, and her fanbase was massive. When Clara and I shared the same frame on the livestream, the visual contrast was brutal.

[ Oh my god. The plastic monster standing next to our natural angel Clara literally looks like an evil hag. ]

[ I'm dead. She tries WAY too hard. Her face is so botched! LMAO. ]

[ To be fair, Piper just has a sharper, more glamorous style ]

[ Did the person above lose their internet connection? Why are you defending that fake snake? ]

Oblivious to the war in the chat, we kicked off the self-introduction segment. Calling it an "introduction" was a stretch. Everyone here was in the industry; we were just going through the motions. Two C-list actors desperately tried to strike up a conversation with Weston, clearly trying to leech off his clout.

Weston ignored them. He just gave them a polite, empty nod. Most of the time, his focus was entirely on me.

He sprawled casually across the opposite sofa, his long legs crossed. His aggressive, predatory gaze locked dead onto me.

My heart skipped a beat. I shifted my leg and kicked his shin hard under the table.

He took the hit without flinching. When I raised an eyebrow, silently threatening another kick, he casually pulled his phone from his pocket and typed something rapid-fire. A second later, my phone vibrated in my lap. I unlocked the screen.

A text from Weston.

[ My whole persona right now is being obsessed with you. I think I'm nailing it. ]

[ Or do you want me to take it a step further? ]

[ How about I just come over and grab you? ]

What the hell! I slammed my thumb against the power button, killing the screen. My fingers curled into a tight fist. I shot him a lethal glare.

He just smirked back, his dark eyes tracking every shift in my expression until the heat crawled up my neck.

[ Wait, did Weston just text the plastic chick? ]

[ It looks like it. And why did her face turn red right after reading it ]

[ Holy shit! Is this some secret foreplay? Texting each other in front of everyone? ]

[ Cameraman, zoom in! I need to see his screen! ]

[ Oh please, just cheap couples' tricks. But tbh Weston's eyes are so intense right now. Anyone else feel it? I'm kind of shipping them ]

[ The person above is clinically insane. ]

The host flashed a practiced smile. "It seems our cast is already getting along."

After the stiff introductions, it was time for the first round of grouping. The producers separated the men and women into different rooms. The women had to pick a gift from a prop room and send it out anonymously. Whoever picked our gift would become our partner for the day.

Weston and I locked eyes right before they split us up. Panic flashed in his pupils, mirroring my own.

I thought this would be a standard free-choice format, where we could just pick each other and coast. I didn't expect the producers to pull this blind-box garbage. If we ended up with different partners, our damage-control plan would be wrecked.

[ They're separating for literally five seconds. Why are they staring at each other like they're being torn apart? ]

Chapter 5

[ It had to be Plastic Piper making the first move, right? Tell me I'm right! ]

[ Bullshit. Weston is definitely the initiator. When Piper walked in, he literally stared at her back for a solid minute. ]

[ Just a casual viewer here, but is this what couples look like? The tension in their eyes is literally pulling strings. Help. ]

The prop room was packed with a dizzying array of items. My eyes darted around, completely overwhelmed.

Clara walked over, a sweet, innocent smile plastered on her face. "Piper, what are you planning to pick?"

My pulse throbbed with anxiety as my fingers hovered over the random assortment of objects. "Uh I'm not sure yet. Just looking."

What the hell could Weston possibly recognize as mine?

After agonizing over it until the timer almost ran out, I hesitantly picked up a plain box of Band-Aids. I grabbed a small bunny sticker and slapped it right on the front of the packaging.

When we were kids, some boy picked on me. Weston got into a massive brawl with him. He was like a provoked, rabid lion, pinning that bastard to the ground and beating the absolute living hell out of him. Weston's own brow bone split open in the process, bleeding down his face.

I gave him a Band-Aid with little bunnies on it.

He complained that it was childish and stupid, but I saw him secretly tuck it into his deepest jacket pocket.

I just didn't know if he still remembered.

Clara held up a delicate, expensive-looking brooch. She glanced at my box, her brow furrowing in polite concern. "Are you sure anyone's actually going to pick that?"

I scratched the back of my neck. "No idea."

Five gifts were lined up on the display table. A diamond brooch, a sleek watch My cheap box of Band-Aids looked out of place. Just like Clara asked, it didn't look like something any sane guy would choose.

Surprisingly, it was the very first target.

Jasper stepped up first. He reached right past the luxury items and picked up my Band-Aids. "Huh. This little bunny is actually pretty cute."

The host smiled smoothly. "Are you hoping to claim this as your desired gift?"

Jasper nodded. "Yeah, I"

Before he could finish his sentence, Weston strode right over. "I'm picking that."

The host froze.

Jasper blinked, clearly thrown off. "I saw it first"

Weston stared down at the box, his voice an absolute, undeniable command. "I saw it long before you did. And the rules never said it's first come, first served."

Seeing the host too intimidated to speak, Weston took the initiative. "Since we both want it, let's compete for it. Fair and square