Chapter 8
Rowan's chat was a disaster zone. Her own haters were flooding the screen, demanding she fulfill the penalty.
Rowan bit her lip so hard it turned white. Tears of genuine humiliation welled up in her eyes. She slowly stood up. Her trembling hands reached for the zipper on the side of her tight red dress.
Just as she started to pull it down, Chelsi leaned close to her microphone.
"Wait!" Chelsi yelled, her voice echoing sharply.
Everyone froze. Even Kamron, sitting in his penthouse, stopped glaring at the screen. The chat paused for a fraction of a second.
Chelsi looked at the terrified, shaking girl on the other side of the screen. She let out a soft, heavy sigh.
"I won the PK," Chelsi said firmly. "That means I get to set the penalty. Right?"
Rowan stared at her, her eyes wide with suspicion. She gave a stiff, jerky nod, bracing herself for something even more degrading.
Chelsi offered a gentle, warm smile. "My penalty is... I want you to sincerely apologize to your viewers and mine for trying to pressure me into something I wasn't comfortable with."
Dead silence fell over the combined streams.
Rowan's jaw dropped. She stuttered, "T-that's it? Are you... are you pitying me?"
Chelsi shook her head. Her eyes were completely sincere. "Streaming is hard enough for all of us. We don't need to tear each other down. Just apologize, and we can move on."
Rowan's face flushed a deep crimson. She looked down at her lap, the weight of Chelsi's grace hitting her harder than any humiliating dance ever could. She took a deep breath, her voice shaking slightly.
"I'm sorry," Rowan said to the camera, bowing her head deeply. "I shouldn't have tried to force that penalty. I apologize to Chelsi and to everyone watching."
When it was over, Rowan looked back up, a complex mix of shame and gratitude in her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered, before instantly disconnecting from the battle.
Chelsi's chat exploded. But this time, it wasn't about the money.
Literal angel.
She spared her. I'm crying.
I am officially a die-hard fan for life.
In his penthouse, Kamron stared at the screen. His heart skipped a beat. He had been furious that she let her enemy go, but seeing the pure, unfiltered kindness in her eyes completely extinguished his rage.
His chest felt tight. He swallowed hard.
Millet: You are a hopeless idiot.
Kamron typed the insult, but immediately followed it by dropping a $50 Starlight Rocket.
Chelsi saw the comment and the rocket. A bright, musical laugh escaped her lips. Her eyes curved into beautiful crescents.
"Thank you for the rocket, you big tsundere," Chelsi teased the camera.
Hearing her call him a tsundere, Kamron's ears burned bright red. He physically flinched, tossing the iPad to the opposite end of his expensive leather sofa like it was on fire.
With her popularity secured, Chelsi smiled at the camera. "Goodnight, everyone. Thank you for everything."
She ended the stream.
She slumped back in her chair, her muscles aching from the adrenaline crash. She opened her creator dashboard to check her messages.
Her inbox was flooded, but one message stood out. It had a gold official verification badge.
Sender: Synergy Talent Official Recruitment.
Synergy Talent was the biggest, most ruthless MCN agency on the East Coast.
Chelsi clicked the message. The offer was incredibly aggressive. They praised her explosive growth and offered her a contract with a massive base salary, a dedicated PR team, professional lighting gear, and a luxury apartment in Manhattan as her housing allowance.
Chelsi stared at the words luxury apartment and base salary. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She looked around her damp, moldy basement room.
Her fingers trembled as she copied the official business email address they provided.
Just as she was about to open her email app, a cold wave of caution washed over her. She had heard whispers in the streaming community—horror stories of creators who signed away their freedom to ruthless agencies, only to be chewed up and discarded.
Chelsi's thumb hovered over the screen. Her stomach twisted into a tight knot. She was desperate for the money, but she had no idea if she was stepping onto a golden staircase or walking straight into a trap.
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