The tension on set was palpable, thick as the fog machine’s artificial mist. The scene had been blocked, the lighting adjusted, but something—someone—was delaying the shoot. Again.

Sophia Hartley, star of Crown & Daggers, emerged from her trailer, a vision in silk and sequins. Her honey-blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, every strand meticulously arranged. She looked like royalty, which was exactly how she carried herself.

“Are we ready, or am I waiting all day?” she asked, her tone coated with saccharine civility.

The crew exchanged glances. No one dared answer. Sophia’s reputation preceded her—charming in interviews, adored by fans, but behind the scenes? A storm waiting to happen.

The assistant director, Jake, cleared his throat. “We’re ready, Miss Hartley. Just waiting on you.”

Her smile was a weapon. “Well, you’re welcome, then.”

The cameras rolled, and for a brief moment, Sophia was magic. Her voice carried the dialogue like music, her expressions a masterclass in subtlety. When the director yelled “Cut!” the set buzzed with awe.

But the illusion shattered as soon as the cameras stopped.

“Who touched my water bottle?” Sophia barked, glaring at a trembling PA. “I specifically said no sparkling water. Do I have to do everything myself?”

The PA mumbled an apology, eyes cast downward.

Sophia didn’t notice—or didn’t care. She turned to her makeup artist, Naomi, snapping her fingers. “I’m shiny. Fix it. Now.”

Naomi hesitated. It was subtle, just a fraction of a second, but Sophia caught it. Her eyes narrowed.

“What? Something you want to say?”

Naomi smiled tightly, brushing powder over Sophia’s cheeks. “Not at all, Sophia.”

The rest of the day dragged on, the crew walking on eggshells around their star. No one dared speak above a whisper. By the time they wrapped, exhaustion hung in the air like smoke.

That night, a post appeared on an anonymous industry gossip forum:

“The Queen of Mean: Behind the Scenes of Crown & Daggers
You think Sophia Hartley is America’s sweetheart? Think again. On set, she’s a tyrant—berating crew, demanding ridiculous perks, and treating everyone like peasants. Guess that crown’s gone to her head…”**

The post went viral within hours. Fans were shocked, some rushing to defend Sophia, others demanding accountability. The press swarmed the set the next morning, cameras flashing and microphones thrust forward as Sophia arrived.

“Do you have anything to say about the allegations, Miss Hartley?”
“Is it true you screamed at your crew?”
“Do you think you owe your team an apology?”

Sophia’s smile was flawless as always. “No comment,” she said, her voice smooth, but her eyes flickered with something darker.

Inside, the set buzzed with quiet speculation. Who had leaked it? Everyone had their theories. The PA swore it wasn’t him. Jake avoided eye contact. Even Naomi, loyal Naomi, seemed unusually quiet.

When the cameras rolled again, Sophia delivered her lines with icy precision, her performance sharper than ever. But beneath the polished exterior, cracks were forming.

And somewhere in the shadows, the traitor watched, waiting for the next move.