Reborn As The Billionaire's Wife：The Despised Wife Shines On Live TV

A sharp, grating laugh echoed across the dirt square.

Hayleigh clutched her stomach, pointing a manicured finger at Cecile. "House 5! The mud shack! Oh my god, the universe really does punish bad people."

On the live stream, the chat moved so fast it was a blur.

Karma!

She's going to freeze to death tonight.

I give her two hours before she quits.

Abbey's eyes gleamed with triumph, but she quickly smoothed her features into a mask of deep, agonizing pity. She took a step toward Cecile, clasping her hands together in front of her chest.

"Octavia," Abbey called out, making sure she was facing the main camera. "This isn't right. That shack is exposed to the elements. It's not safe for a child."

She turned her tragic gaze to Cecile. "Cecile, please. Put your pride aside. Let Damien come stay in House 3 with me and Brayan. He can have the heated guest room."

The other celebrities murmured in agreement. It was the perfect trap. If Cecile said no, she was a monster denying her child warmth. If she said yes, she admitted she was an unfit mother and handed Abbey the ultimate victory.

Hayleigh crossed her arms. "Yeah, Cecile. If you have a shred of decency left in your cold heart, give the kid up. Don't make him suffer for your failures."

Damien stood beside Cecile. His stomach churned. He knew exactly what House 3 was. It was a house rigged with cameras in every corner, ruled by a woman who pinched Brayan's arms where the lenses couldn't see. He opened his mouth to refuse.

Suddenly, the world went silent.

Cecile had dropped to her knees. She brought both of her hands up and clamped them firmly over Damien's ears.

Her palms were warm. The pressure was solid, completely blocking out Hayleigh's screeching and Abbey's fake sympathy.

Damien looked through the gap between her fingers. He felt the tension in her hands, a fierce, protective pressure that blocked out the ugly noise of the world. Through the small gap between her fingers, he caught a brief glimpse of the tight, furious line of her jaw before she gently pulled him closer. She wasn't looking at him; he could feel the rigid posture of her body as she glared down the women trying to tear them apart.

Cecile stood up slowly, keeping her hands over Damien's ears for a second longer before letting them drop. She stepped forward, closing the distance between herself and the group.

She stopped in front of Hayleigh. Her eyes were like shards of broken glass.

"You care so much about children?" Cecile asked, her voice dangerously quiet. "Why don't you care about the fact that your son spat his chewed gum onto the carpet of a private jet three times, and you pretended not to see it?"

Hayleigh's jaw dropped. Her face flushed a violent, mottled red. She looked frantically at the cameras, opening her mouth to deny it, but the footage already existed.

Cecile didn't wait for a response. She turned her head, locking her sights on Abbey.

Abbey's fake smile faltered.

"And you, Mrs. White," Cecile said, taking a slow step forward. "My son is not a prop for your maternal performance. Keep your repulsive acting to yourself."

The words hit like a physical slap. Abbey gasped, taking a step back. Tears instantly welled in her eyes. "I... I was only trying to help," she whimpered, playing the victim perfectly.

Cecile ignored the tears. She turned her terrifying gaze to Director Octavia.

"Section four, paragraph two of our contracts," Cecile recited, her voice echoing across the silent square. "No production member or cast member may forcefully separate a parent-child unit during the survival phase. Attempting to do so is a breach of contract, resulting in immediate termination of the broadcast."

Octavia's face went pale. She hadn't expected Cecile to actually read the legal documents, let alone weaponize them. The director quickly grabbed her walkie-talkie. "Move it along," she hissed to the host.

The host cleared his throat loudly. "Alright! Guides, please take the families to their respective homes!"

Cecile turned around. She reached down and took Damien's hand. Without looking back at the stunned crowd, she followed Cody, the guide, toward the dirt path leading into the woods.

Abbey stood frozen in the square. She watched Cecile's retreating back. The tears vanished from her eyes, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated venom. Beside her, Brayan saw the shift in his stepmother's face and shrank back, terrified.

The walk to House 5 took thirty minutes. The path was steep, choked with rocks and thick mud. Cecile was wearing thin, flat designer shoes. Every step was a battle. Mud splattered up her calves, ruining her leggings.

Damien looked down at her ruined shoes. Without a word, he quickened his pace, his small hand gripping hers tighter, trying to pull his own weight so she wouldn't have to drag him.

They crested a small hill.

House 5 stood in a clearing. It wasn't a house. It was a rotting wooden shed. The door hung off one hinge. Half the roof was missing, exposing the interior to the darkening sky.

Cody stopped. He looked at the shack, then at Cecile, a flash of genuine pity in his eyes.

"Listen," Cody muttered, stepping away from the cameraman. "If you look into the lens and say you can't do it, production is legally required to give you a weatherproof tent. Just say the word."

Cecile looked at the camera lens. She knew exactly what Octavia wanted. A clip of her begging.

"No," Cecile said flatly. "I can handle it."

She pushed past Cody, pushed open the screeching, rotting door, and stepped into the freezing, damp darkness of the mud shack.