"Tyler please stop!" Francis called out from behind me but it only made me speed up. My hands curled up into a fist when I thought back on Bella's words. Furious would be an understatement. I was prepared to bring the house, or in this case, the hotel down.

Ignoring Francis's advancing steps, I stopped before the elevator shafts and pressed the buttons in succession.

"Tyler is a good friend of mine and she is being bullied by her schoolmates..."

I scoffed. Bullied? What the hell was she trying to say? Everything had already died down since my sophomore year and this would simply aggravate the issue more. I didn't need the focus of entire school on me or worse, get sympathy pats from my teachers. They did nothing in the first place why bother now.

With one floor left for the elevator to reach mine, I sighed when Francis caught up to me. Even in my hurry I wasn't stupid enough to take the stairs and tire myself out. You had to be consistent if you were not working out.

"Mon Dieu!" Francis gripped my arm, and tried to turn me towards him.

"Mon Dien? Mon Dieu, will you stop it?" I hissed, irritated at his consistent use of French. I pulled my arm back, and to my relief no one witnessed my snappy mood. Francis huffed out and swept his hair away from his face in disbelief. When he realized that it won't work, he tried on with a pleading look.

"Tyler it won't do you any good. Please believe me," Francis said, and I mirrored his initial expression of disbelief.

"Francis it's of no use. I can't let this slide. They are practically spreading malicious rumors on the national television! What if they aired that Roger and you were a couple, huh? Would you stay still? You won't."

"That is something different Tyler. You don't--" Francis stopped as the elevator opened, and I quickly took a step away from him. To my displeasure, Stephanie, the infamous mastermind behind the casting stood behind the sliding doors.

I watched as she absent-mindedly stared at both of us from her crooked glasses. She arched her eyebrows at my state. I knew those damn tears would have left horrible trails with bloodshot eyes, and not to mention my pyjamas. You had think one would wear some fancy stuff in a foreign country. Not me.

"Tyler Anderson," she stated in recognition, "Francis."

Francis looked a little flustered, not recognizing her. But I saw this as my chance to get information out of her and boldly stepped inside the elevator. Francis gave me a disappointed look but followed me in without a word. He grabbed my arm to drag me to a corner as the elevator closed and began moving.

"Listen Tyler, I have only made problems for you all this time and I admit it. But believe me, you'll be helpless down there. You don't know how scary they are." I thought back on how helpful the crew was back at the party, and I couldn't imagine them as the scary people Francis was talking about.

"I don't know Francis. Either way--"

"Is something wrong?" Stephanie interrupted us, and Francis stepped back, giving me the eye to not tell her anything. I did the opposite.

"Yes. Something is really wrong with the production crew." I deadpan, and her eyebrows shot through the roof at my admittance. The look on her face and the way she avoided my eyes, hinted me that she knew what was going on.

"Come with me," she whispered, and ushered me out of the elevator as it opened a few floors above ours. I was surprised at her offer and tried to ward away some of my anger, and followed her.

"Tell me, Tyler. I'll help you." Her words somewhat comforted me as she patted my slumped back. She led me away from the dumbstruck Francis and from the elevator towards her room. Why I followed her wasn't a mystery, because right then, it seemed that she really would solve everything for me.

"Come sit." She offered me a cup of sweet Yogurt and directed towards the cushioned couch. Her room was almost similar to mine, though much bigger in size. It was fully speck free and not a thing was out of place. Sitting opposite to me, she motioned me to speak up.

"Have you watched the new episode?" I asked, circling the spoon around the edge of the Yogurt.

"Yes, I came up after watching most of it." She watched me circle the spoon a few more times, waiting for me to continue.

"Don't you have to say anything?" This time I couldn't stop myself from grinding my teeth.

"Say something? Why?" she hesitated, not meeting my eyes. It was clear from then on that she was in the loop with whatever had happened.

"Don't play dumb with me," I said and though it felt awkward for me to talk to someone who was older than me like that, I couldn't help it. Not this time.

"Are you worried about Brandon?" She suggested but I knew she knew that the problem wasn't him right now.

I stared at her, expressing just that. Small beads of sweat formed on her forehead even in the air-conditioned room, making me thoroughly suspicious that something had indeed went on behind the scenes.

Looks like someone's was regretting talking to me.

"Stephanie, please. You know what I am talking about. Just tell me. Why? Why did they do this?"

"You can't tell this to anyone," she whispered, leaning forward and checking to make sure that no wall had suddenly sprouted ears.

"Go on," I said, relieved that she was telling me and not really amused at her gestures. But if this was one of her games with me, I swear to God she would regret it even more.

"Don't tell anyone. But we had an anonymous sponsor this season."

"Which from the way you are saying is really not-so-anonymous is it?"

"No..." She grimaced, "We didn't know that Bella would be this big of a bitch."

"What?" I choked, surprised at Stephanie for using such honesty. I mean she really is a bitch.

"Oh stop with that. I know you think we all are your enemies or something. But believe me, everyone in the production room is planning on some voodoo magic to have Bella gone."

Despite myself, I leaned forward to hear her anecdotes. According to her, Bella had been giving everyone in the production team a hard time. From having her stylists at stand by, demanding a penthouse to stay in and all sorts of arrangements which had the team running everywhere instead of doing anything fruitful.

Just how big that donation was for them to agree to everything?

"A million dollars maybe?" Stephanie suggested and my eyes almost fell out of my sockets.

"But this is ridiculous! Didn't she just bought the whole damn show? What's the point?!"

"The point is that the judges don't know this. So the game is fair."

I snorted. "So did she or did she not order them to edit the episode in a way to make me look weak? And what the hell was that interview? Why wasn't I interviewed in that case?"

"I don't know what she has against you. But it was either agreeing to her or not airing the episode. Don't worry, I made them add the airport scene as a compensation!" She brightened up, proud of herself, and I rolled my eyes.

How could that be a compensation at all? Here I had been texting every friend to look out for an amazing speech but gotten a wailing little scene with a bad mouthing bitch instead.

"Your phone is ringing."

"Huh?"

"Your phone!" Stephanie pointed to my pocket and I realized the constant buzzing was my phone. Hurriedly taking it out, I checked the caller ID to see it was Brandon.

"Excuse me." I got up to answer the call but she shooed me back down. Shrugging, I plopped back on the couch.

"Hey," I said in the phone and glanced towards Stephanie to ensure she wasn't creepily watching me like she did.

"That fucking bitch!" Brandon screamed and instantly a warmth spread in my stomach. There was nothing better than hearing the voice of someone you like bitching about someone you don't like. Though it sounded awkward coming from his mouth, but he too had had his share of her evil.

"Yup." I tried to sound cheery but it only came out as a sigh.

"Excuse my language but--" My ears turned red as I heard an array of colorful words better suited in a pirate movie.

"Brandon?" I hesitated, shocked at the expanse of his curse dictionary. Stephanie smirked from across me at hearing that name, and I twisted a little away from her, lowering my voice.

"Are you okay? What the hell was that?" he asked and I melted. Not trying to give away my expression, I cleared my throat and got up. She watched me as I motioned that I am going out.

"Yeah, I am okay. Apparently Bella has sponsored a million dollars and turned them into puppets." I closed the door behind me and took the elevator to my room. The reception was surprisingly good.

"Damn. A million?"

"Yup. Did mom watch it?"

"You won't believe it but she started crying at our, um, little airport scene. Seth actually got the goosebumps and Leo is making vulgar jokes since it aired." As much weird it was, I had no doubt that that was exactly what had happened.

"Oh and Liam?"

"Why are you asking about him?"

"Because you didn't mention him."

"Umm... He didn't say anything?"

We talked for a minute or two more and I had a sixth sense that my mom was definitely eavesdropping on the other side. As soon as I finished the call, I saw that they were about twenty messages from Rebecca alone and about a hundred others from the people in my school.

Yay, for being so famous.

The strategy was clear to me now. I could not go on complaining about the unfairness to everyone. The only way to beat Bella in her game was to play as dirty as her.

"Welcome to the Senior Baking Competition, Bake It Down! We are live from the Orchard Road of Singapore with the round two of the competition."

Florence went on with her usual chirpy chattering as all of us literally baked in the afternoon sun. Every team was dressed in similar color clothing, exclusively sponsored by some sport brand. We had to keep saying how comfortable the sneakers and t-shirts were, when in reality the sneakers were already giving me a shoe bite and my t-shirt stunk of the cheap fabric.

But all well because it looked good on the screen.

The fun part was watching Bella cringe at the sight of the cheap clothes. But since the judges had graciously asked to promote it, even she had been helpless. Though she had done good by having it turned into a crop top with a mini skirt.

I looked around at the stalls absent-mindedly, already having the idea what our task was going to be today. Hoards of people swarmed the area, the security border for the shoot thick with them. Unlike us they were out on one fine day enjoying shopping in the most famous district of Singapore.

"The competition is simple! You have to bake two baked goods for a Bake Sale!" Tony had to shout over the noise so we could hear him. I straightened up and called Bea to attention, getting ready for the competition once again.

"You will have two hours to come up with twenty five servings of each dish. The choice of dish is upon you. Your judges would be the audience here. Your time starts now!" The whistle sounded and I started thinking about what I was going to bake.

"Bea do you have any signature dishes?"

"I make Tarts quite well... " Bea trailed off and I got to thinking.

"Great! How about Raspberry Mascarpone Tart? And I can bake something more summery..."

"You mean I have to bake it alone?!" She looked panicked at that decision and I relented.

"No we'll do it together. How about I do something with lemons?" I asked and she nodded.

"Lemon pound cake?"

"That's too basic."

"We are taking too much time. I am going to go grab the ingredients," she muttered and ran over to the pantry, bundled up in the middle with every thing imaginable.

"Okay... " I ran after her to the pantry. Skimming over the goods, my eyes landed on the heap of nuts and almonds. Almonds.

"Bea let's make a traditional Italian Lemon Almond Cake!" I said to her as I grabbed almonds and almond flour and put them in the basket.

She nodded furiously and collected the raspberries from the nearby heap before moving on to get dozen of eggs.

I went to one of the twenty or so stalls and behind the counter. The stalls were divided into two parts such that you had another team on your back, practically sharing the kitchen with them. Not that it mattered much.

Dumping all the ingredients on the nearest stall and with twenty-five whooping servings to serve, it was time to get started.

"Tyler I am here!" Bea shouted from the stall up at the front and I scowled. We just had to go in opposite directions huh?

I saw that she had already arranged most of the stuff and had started on the base. I shouted, "Coming!" and grabbed the basket to run over to her stall.

My shoulder bumped into the metal rod holding the tents up, shooting acute pain up my arm. The rod seemed to vibrate with the impact and I looked up to see that the tent shifted dangerously close towards the left. For a moment my heart constricted, thinking that it was going to tilt and fall, but it stayed. A member of the production team ran towards me, and I released my breath when he assured me that he'll handle the situation.

Ten minutes were down and I was already sweating like a pig. After the close brush with an accident like that, I was very careful with whatever I touched. Quickly washing my hands, and ignoring the amused stares, I laid bare the ingredients from my basket.

What was interesting with Lemon Almond Cake was that it had a soft crunch inside, which made it all the more surprising and fun to eat. So I knew it would definitely be a winner in the crowd with its unique taste. Happy with my choice, I started with grating the lemon to get the zest while Bea worked on the tart.

I looked to my right to see that the other nine stalls had been occupied as well, with the preparations full in force. Looking back on to who I was sharing my stall with, I choked when Bella and Giulia met my eyes.

"Tyler, what are you doing? That's enough lemon zest for fifty cakes!" Bea shouted, making Bella look at me. She gave me a smirk and a look that clearly expressed who was going to win today.

I glared back at her, and stopped with the grating. The zest was really enough to use for more than fifty cakes.

We found our rhythm and within one hour of the competition, we were halfway through both of the dishes. The cakes were baking in the oven with the tarts and we just had to work over the icings and hope that everything turned out perfect.

"Stop everyone!" Cheng said and I froze, thinking that maybe the time was over. It wasn't.

"We have a special guest here. The King Of Fruits... Durian!" A huge pile of brown colored fruits rolled forward in a trolley, stopping besides the pantry.

"Oh my god." The pungent smell of the fruit filled the air and my stomach twisted as to what we would have to do with them.

"You have to use them and make one more dish. Twenty-five more servings it is!" And like that, the doom was on us. Everyone grabbed a tray of the pungent fruit, wheels churning inside the head to make the best use of this gigantic fruit.

I glanced over to my side where Henry was expertly cutting up the fruit with the sharp knife. Taking note on how to do it, I grabbed a knife myself and went on to remove the stem and cut it open vertically.

It took me some time as Bea whispered out ideas on how we could use it. The fruit finally gave away and I found rich, creamy and pungent smelling fruit inside.

"Do you want to taste it?" I asked Bea and she nodded. I popped a piece into her mouth, followed by another in mine. The pungent smell was bearable, and the fruit had a sweet and a bitter taste to it. It was so unique and different that I was at a lost as to what we could do with it.

"How about we go for simple muffins? We just have forty-five minutes left," Bea suggested and I agreed. It was easy and simple, but the safest bet with this foreign food.

"Let's have it as a coconut and durian mix?" I tried to imagine the flavor and it did go pretty well in my head.

"Laisse-moi faire!" Bella snapped behind us and I dropped my knife, startled. Discretely looking back I saw that Bella was rambling orders in French while Giulia just stood in a corner with her arms crossed.

I bent down to pick it up and then tried to hide my smile at their disharmonious teamwork, when Giulia's eyes caught mine. She assessed me exactly how Bella did, and then looked over to our near complete baking. Giving me an ominous smirk, she turned away and made herself busy with something.

Just what went on in their petite little heads? They didn't own the whole world.

"Bea get us some coconut and coconut milk?" I stood up and she snapped her head back to me.

"Sure." She sprinted off and was back in a minute with the both.

"Thanks!" I quickly dropped the fruit in the blender, removing the stringy parts and added the other ingredients as well. "Bea are you doing fine?"

"Huh? Yeah," she said but her face didn't look like that. Her palms were sweating and she kept wiping them off her apron. Continuously looking back and forth between ours and Bella's stall, she bit her lip and continued on making the lemon icing.

"Hey is something bothering you?" I asked her and she shook her head furiously. Yup, something was definitely up.

"Bea come on. We have to stay in the competition a lot longer. You can't keep acting like this," I whispered to her, constantly multitasking between pouring the muffin batter into the cups and checking the oven's temperature.

"It's nothing Tyler..." She whisked the cream, her hands shaking like she was hyperventilating.

"Are you okay?" I grabbed her hand to still it and made her look at me. Her eyes were brimmed with tears and her lower lip was quivering. She turned away and one fat tear dropped down her cheek.

"S-sorry," she croaked, and I looked at her in shock and disbelief. What was happening here?

My mind was blank at this out of blue situation. I knew I was no expert at consoling, but I started patting her back to calm her down from whatever thing that had upset her.

"Hey, shhh. It's okay." Who knew that this only leads to more waterfall? Good or not, but we were not attracting any attention from anyone. Not even the production team who loved these types of emotional drama. I realized that everyone was head into the competition and we had to buck up if we wanted to survive.

"Bea I have no idea what's going on, but please let's start plating up? Can you help? Hey," I touched her arm, and she nodded, wiping away those tears.

Expecting her to pick up that icing and start working, I was in for an another surprise when she took out her apron and folded it over the counter. She stepped forward her eyes downcast and a scared expression on her face.