“Spotted: Camila Cho playing a dangerous game of hide-and-seek. While we were all busy drying our eyes over her ‘missing’ boyfriend, it seems Camila was busy ordering lattes for two.
A mysterious masked man was caught cozying up to our grieving starlet at a café near the studio this morning—and those eyes? An eerie match for the ‘missing’ man himself.
My little birds overheard a frantic whisper: ‘You have to be careful… if they see you, you’re in danger.’ Is this a true-crime thriller, or just a desperate bid for the spotlight? If those eyes belong to Hector Tin, then this ‘disappearance’ is officially the scam of the season. Word is they’re planning a masked rendezvous at tomorrow’s Sweet Night Gala at the Dressrious Salon. Pack your binoculars, C’s fans; we’re done with the lies and demanding the truth.
You know you love me, XOXO, Gossip News”
The post dropped like a digital grenade, accompanied by a candid, slightly grainy photo of Camila huddled with the masked man. The comment section became a battlefield. One comment, however, cut through the noise: “I knew it. She’s a liar. She stole my role, and now she’s manipulating the world. She’s evil.”
The comment came from none other than Karen Lawrence. Trevor hadn’t asked her to do this, but she was the first to fall for the bait.
The plan, though, had veered a little from Trevor’s original idea after Camila spoke to him. She’d suggested they set up a meeting with the ‘fake’ Hector rather than a mysterious girlfriend.
“If Hector were truly kidnapped—or whatever,” Camila said, her voice tinged with fear of the worst, “I’m the first person he’d risk everything to see. He’d need to tell me what happened. That’s what would make it more believable.”
The ‘fake Hector’ was, in fact, Spion in disguise. With a build matching Hector’s, Spion sat in the café, careful not to reveal his height. Camila had called in a favor from her closest friend Mika, a makeup artist whose skills bordered on the miraculous. Using a wig and prosthetic adjustments to Spion’s eyes and nose, she crafted a startling likeness. The jawline proved more stubborn, requiring a face mask reinforced with silicone padding to mimic Hector’s broader structure.
Trevor snapped the now-infamous photo. Since it was a candid shot, the resolution didn’t have to be perfect, and a slightly blurry image added to the mystery.
This stunt, however, did nothing but damage Camila’s reputation. Her phone blew up with messages after the expose, but she denied everything, saying, “No, that’s not true. He’s still missing. That photo is fake.” In some ways, she wasn’t lying. But what could be more effective at spreading rumors than persistent denial and endless hype?
By afternoon, the news had spread far beyond Gossip News. It went viral, with multiple versions of the story circulating:
Camila and Hector were trying to pull off an insurance scam; Hector had been involved in Connor Franco’s case; Hector had been kidnapped by gangsters, escaped, and was now under witness protection; Hector was dead, and the man in the photo was a restless ghost seeking vengeance… One paparazzo even claimed to have seen a shadowy figure near Camila’s apartment late at night. The figure was said to resemble Hector.
The team also contributed several rumors. Lady News and Report Man even helped accelerate the spread of these stories among celebrities in the Old World. Who knew if any of these rumors were true? Each one chipped away at the truth, making everyone—including the mastermind—uneasy.
And yet the night before the gala wasn’t easy for Camila. Trevor had set up a security camera in her apartment, just in case someone tried to break in. Camila decided to stay at Mika’s place instead, keeping an eye on her apartment through the live camera stream. Thankfully, nothing happened that night.
When the night of the gala finally arrived, Camila was still on edge. She forced a smile for the cameras as she stepped out of the limousine with Jack Goblinez.
Goblinez couldn’t have cared less about the rumors surrounding Hector’s return. His only requirement was that Camila carry a Rawawa doll on her cream handbag, so the photographers could capture the perfect moment.
And so, she did. Camila wore a dark brown satin halter gown and clutched her handbag with the smiling, pink ballet-dressed Rawawa doll dangling from it. Meanwhile, Goblinez was dressed in a classic tuxedo rather than a fancy one. He had made his priorities clear: the night was about the ladies, the chocolate, and, above all, his toys.
As for Trevor and Spion, they had no desire to be spotted, nor did they ride in a limousine. Shunning the flash of the press, they slipped into the building through the rear entrance, where they were greeted by Lex, the robot doorman.
“Good evening, gentlemen. Do you have invitations? Please hold your tickets over the screen for scanning,” Lex said, his voice a smooth, synthesized baritone. A digital smile flickered across the top of his monitor.
Trevor and Spion waved their golden invitations over the sensor, allowing Lex to scan them.
“Welcome, Mr. Edson and Mr. Frank. I hope you have a Sweet Night,” Lex intoned as they stepped inside.
The lobby was alive with the sweet aroma of milk and chocolate. The party hall was guarded by two towering Nutcracker soldiers who stood like sentinels, offering hors d’oeuvres.
Spion couldn’t resist. He leaned toward Lex and teased, “Hey, Lex, I see two of your kind here too. They look a lot more professional than you do.”
Lex groaned audibly. “You mean those two dummy nutcrackers? Don’t even get me started. I asked them if there was a robot union in JackToy or how long they’d strike for better pay. They just said, ‘Sorry, I can’t provide that information.’ Useless piles of scrap.”
Trevor chuckled, pulling Spion away into the party hall, which had been transformed into a whimsical toy kingdom. The ceilings and walls were adorned with colorful candies and electric animals, and two extravagant champagne fountains flowed with chocolate champagne. More nutcracker soldiers circulated, offering guests treats and drinks. Influencers in neon silks and outlandish headpieces posed for live streams, turning the place into a carnival.
Trevor snapped dozens of photos and sent them off to Alisa. Finally, he and Spion reached their table, which was surrounded by desserts and snacks. At the center of the table sat a circus-themed music box, its delicate chime harmonizing with the live band’s performance of Tchaikovsky’s The Nutcracker.
Soon, two ladies in luxurious dark silk gowns, adorned with gold bracelets and silver necklaces, approached the table. One wore her black hair in multiple braids, while the other let her shorter hair fall naturally, held in place by a gold headband. They exchanged words in a language Trevor didn’t recognize, though the rich scent of oud and musk suggested they were from Alexandria.
“We shall dance with them later,” Spion whispered to Trevor, winking at the two ladies as they took their seats.
The lights dimmed as Goblinez took the stage for a brief, self-indulgent speech. The dinner was beginning, and the trap was officially set.