C18 He Is too Weak to Fight Me

A woman stood before her, phone in hand, her expression icy. "Why has the big star stopped? I was counting on selling these photos to the entertainment weeklies for a pretty penny."

Aimee narrowed her eyes, recognition dawning on who this woman was. She had always been the epitome of sunny and healthy, but now she had transformed into a vision of fashion and beauty, and Aimee had failed to recognize her at first glance.

With her porcelain skin and rosy lips, she exuded both innocence and allure. She was the rising star, Sheila.

"It's you! Always sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."

Sheila paid her no mind, her fingers dancing across her phone until, with a smile, she turned the screen to show Aimee. "How about I increase your exposure by posting this video of you assaulting and threatening someone on Twitter? You'll definitely trend. It might even eclipse the fame of marrying Mr. Simmons."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"What makes you think I wouldn't?" Sheila's expression turned steely. "Go ahead, test me—see if I dare. But the real question is, do you?"

Aimee's face drained of color, a ghostly pallor taking hold. She lunged for Sheila's phone, but Hilda subtly extended her foot. Unaware, Aimee tripped and tumbled to the ground, sprawled before Sheila and Hilda.

"Look at the big star, tsk, what a mess." Sheila commented, snapping photo after photo of Aimee's disheveled state.

"Hand it over!" Aimee reached for the phone.

"Oops!" Sheila sidestepped, slipping the phone into her bag. She then rose gracefully, gazing down at Aimee with an air of superiority. "If you don't want this getting out, fine. Hilda won't be returning to that rundown house with you. Whether you deceive or conceal, the bottom line is, if Ken dares to bother Hilda again, I'll release everything!"

With that, Sheila took Hilda by the hand, had her open the door, and then slammed it shut in Aimee's face.

"Thank you, Sheila," Hilda said, moved.

"Why the formality between us?" Sheila dismissed with a wave of her hand, finding her way to the sofa and settling in before Hilda could even flip on the lights.

Hilda flicked on the light and approached, only to notice something off about Sheila's expression.

"What's the matter?"

With a furrowed brow, Sheila seized Hilda's hand. "What's this? Why are you covered in injuries?"

"It's nothing."

"Nothing? Do you have to be on death's door before you consider it serious?"

Despite the harshness in her voice, Hilda understood that Sheila was just showing concern.

Hilda glanced down at the bruise on her wrist, a souvenir from Kimball earlier that day. She was at a loss for how to explain her situation with Kimball to Sheila.

After a moment's hesitation, Hilda reluctantly shared the details of the parking lot incident.

To Hilda's surprise, Sheila sprang to her feet, heading for the door.

"Sheila! Where are you going?"

"I'm going to check if that tramp Aimee is still around. I swear, I won't calm down until I've given her a piece of my mind! This is infuriating!"

"Okay, okay, Sheila, I'm alright now," Hilda quickly interjected, attempting to calm her down. She knew Sheila all too well; she was someone who meant what she said.

Seeing Sheila's murderous look, Hilda gently patted her back, soothing her, "You're in the spotlight now. You can't afford to act on impulse. If the paparazzi catch you, it could ruin your career."

"I don't care about that. What's a career compared to friendship?"

"But I do care."