Chapter 10｜Scarlett Went Live By Accident

The flickering neon sign outside cast a sickly glow across the peeling walls of the motel room in East Los Angeles. Ivy Monroe pressed herself against the cracked doorframe, every nerve screaming in a way that had nothing to do with adrenaline and everything to do with heartbreak. She had finally found Scarlett—the girl who should have been the heiress, the daughter who had been hidden, caged, medicated, erased. Scarlett sat on the thin, lumpy mattress, her hair in tangled knots, eyes wide and uncomprehending, the phone clutched in her hands like a lifeline. Ivy could see it trembling, the screen glowing as it teetered on the edge of accidental catastrophe. “I… I don’t know how to—” Scarlett whispered, voice cracking, as she tapped a few buttons she didn’t understand. Ivy’s stomach tightened. “Scarlett, wait! Don’t touch that!” she hissed, rushing forward, but it was too late. The phone had flipped into live mode. A notification blinked: “You are now live. 1 viewer.” Scarlett froze, panic flaring across her face. Her lips trembled, forming words she couldn’t yet control. And then, like a dam breaking, the story poured out of her. “I—I’ve been locked up. They made me take pills every day. They told me I was bad. I—I wasn’t supposed to exist. My name is Scarlett Monroe. I’m… I’m the real daughter. Not Ivy. Not anyone else. They… they…” Her voice faltered, but she couldn’t stop. The words came too fast, too raw, too honest. Ivy’s heart hammered in her chest, both with horror and awe. Every detail Scarlett spilled—the medications, the cages, the manipulation, the deliberate erasure—was a dagger straight into the carefully curated Monroe image. And it was all raw. Untouched. Real. The view count began to climb, numbers flickering in real time at the corner of the screen. 10 viewers… 100… 1,000… 10,000… 50,000… Ivy swallowed, her throat dry. She hadn’t expected the reach to be instantaneous. It was as though the truth had a gravity of its own, pulling millions in its orbit within moments. “Scarlett, breathe,” Ivy whispered softly, stepping closer, trying to guide her trembling sister. But Scarlett didn’t pause. She was lost in the rush of revelation, and Ivy realized that the adrenaline of truth was intoxicating, even if terrifying. “They—they said I’m a failure. That I wasn’t worth the cameras. That I’m… I’m nothing. But I’m here! I’m alive!” Scarlett’s voice cracked but held fire. “And they can’t hide it anymore!” The numbers surged past hundreds of thousands. Comments streamed in at a dizzying pace: “Oh my god…” “I can’t believe this is real.” “Who is she?” “Monroe family exposed.” Ivy’s chest ached. She wanted to hold Scarlett, to shield her from the crushing weight of exposure she herself knew too well. But there was also something intoxicating about this moment. The sanitized lies, the manipulated headlines, the airbrushed smiles—none of that could compete with the raw, unfiltered reality of Scarlett’s words. Truth, it seemed, was a weapon sharper than any contract, more contagious than any PR stunt. “You’re safe now,” Ivy murmured, though it wasn’t entirely true. The world was watching, hungry and relentless. “I’ve got you.” Scarlett glanced at her sister, tears streaming down her face, trembling, exhausted, but still defiant. “They… they told me if I spoke, I’d disappear. That no one would believe me. But… it’s out. It’s finally out.” Ivy pressed a hand to Scarlett’s shoulder, feeling the tremor run through her. “They can’t take this back. Not this time. You’ve already spoken. Millions are watching. The truth… it’s stronger than they ever were.” The numbers kept climbing—millions now, a tidal wave of viewers catching every word. Ivy felt a surge of hope, mingled with fear. Hope because Scarlett’s voice, her existence, could no longer be erased. Fear because the Monroe empire was powerful, and they wouldn’t go down quietly. Scarlett’s voice softened, almost a whisper now, “Ivy… I’m sorry I didn’t know… I didn’t know how to survive. I—I was scared.” Ivy pulled her into a shaky hug, holding her tight against the thin mattress, the peeling walls, the buzzing neon. “You survived. That’s enough for now. We’ll handle the rest.” Outside, the city moved on, oblivious to the truth spilling from a cheap motel room. Inside, Ivy and Scarlett clung to each other, broken, raw, yet alive. And on the screen, the world saw what mattered more than image, more than legacy, more than PR: reality. In that instant, Ivy understood something she hadn’t before. No filter, no lie, no airbrushed image could ever compete with the violence and beauty of truth. And Scarlett, fragile and terrified, had wielded it like a sword. Millions of eyes were watching. And the Monroes’ empire, built on perfection and illusion, was trembling. Ivy squeezed Scarlett’s shoulder, whispering, “The world just saw the truth. And the truth… is unstoppable.” Scarlett leaned into her, exhausted but fierce, realizing that finally, she was no longer invisible. The live stream kept going. The view count soared. And somewhere in the chaos, Ivy felt a flicker of something she hadn’t felt in years: power.