Chapter 3: The Bet That Changes Everything

The next morning, there are trout in our spring—no need to worry about food. We roast a couple for breakfast and stroll to the beach. Just as I expected, the cabin the crew set up for Marissa is gone. Not a single plank left—it’s all been blown into the sea. Marissa and her crew look miserable, hair soaked, dark circles under their eyes, sneezing nonstop. She sits nearby, clutching a cup of black coffee, while her three simps try and fail to build a new shelter. Every time the wind blows, their work collapses.

It’s like a scene from a slapstick comedy. I can’t help but let out a little snort.

I can’t help but laugh. Brandon glares at me: “Are you gloating?”

He looks like he wants to throw his coffee at me, but he’s too cold to move.

I wave it off: “No, I just thought of a saying: ‘Love without a foundation is like a house of cards—one gust of wind and it’s gone.’”

I deliver the line with a straight face, but inside I’m cackling.

Brandon sneers: “Don’t bother explaining. You’re clearly laughing at us. Just wait, we’ll build a solid house soon.”

He stomps off, but the mud sucks at his boots. He nearly falls, and I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing harder.

I shrug, ready to watch the show.

I settle back, arms crossed, waiting for the next disaster. This is better than cable.

Soon enough, Brandon surprises me. He pulls out a hammer and nails and starts pounding away, channeling all his anger into the task. But he misses and smashes Jordan’s hand instead. Jordan, usually the cool, aloof music genius, grabs Brandon by the collar and snaps: “Are you out of your mind?!”

The look on Jordan’s face is priceless—he’s one step from launching Brandon into the ocean.

Brandon panics at the sight of blood. He drops the hammer in his rush—and it lands squarely on Carter’s foot.

Carter yelps: “Brandon, are you doing this on purpose?!”

He hops around, clutching his foot, swearing under his breath. The whole scene is pure chaos.

“No, I’m just clumsy.”

He tries to laugh it off, but nobody’s buying it.

What should’ve been a feel-good montage turns into slapstick, thanks to Brandon.

The tension between them is thick enough to cut. I half-expect someone to throw a punch.

Brandon backs away: “No way, you’ll just use the hammer to get back at me.”

He holds his hands up, backing away like Carter’s wielding a chainsaw.

Carter retorts, “Don’t worry. If I hit you, it’ll be an accident—just like you.”

The tension between the three guys is palpable—all because of Marissa. Jordan and Carter think Brandon is targeting them as romantic rivals.

I watch the drama unfold, sipping my coconut water. Who needs Netflix?

Aside from Riley, no one here really gets along with me. I’m just here for the drama, hoping they’ll come to blows. Too bad Marissa still has some sense and rushes to break it up: “We’re teammates. We should help each other, not let the audience laugh at us.”

She’s got that leader voice on, but the guys barely listen. I can tell she’s clinging to her last shred of control.

The guys, reminded that this is a 24/7 live show, realize their real personalities have been exposed. Their faces darken.

There’s a sudden, awkward silence. Even the birds seem to stop chirping.

Sure enough, the viewers are buzzing:

“Wow, I get Brandon’s temper, but what’s up with Jordan and Carter?”

“Wasn’t Jordan supposed to be the untouchable genius? And Carter, the gentle one?”

“It’s all an act. Remember when Carter’s former assistant accused him of making her do his laundry and said he smokes and drinks in private?”

“Ugh, I didn’t believe it before, but now I do.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions. Jordan and Carter are hurt, they’re allowed to be mad.”

“Yeah, our guys are just being real.”

“We’ll see how real they are soon enough.”

The chat is a battleground, and nobody’s coming out unscathed.

To be fair, Marissa is good at handling men. She pulls out a first aid kit and fusses over Jordan and Carter, and their anger melts away. They even comfort her: “Marissa, don’t worry, we’re fine.”

She dabs at their wounds like Florence Nightingale, and the boys practically melt. The show should be called Survivor: Simp Edition.

Marissa smiles through her tears: “That’s good.”

Her eyes shimmer, and the chat swoons. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

But their anger has to go somewhere. They both turn their attention to Riley and me, who are sitting comfortably, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

Riley’s got her feet up, and I’m pretending to file my nails. We look like we’re at a spa, not a survival camp.

“Why are you two just sitting there doing nothing?”

Riley snaps, “We’re not on your team. Mind your own business.”

She doesn’t even look up. I stifle a laugh.

Brandon is stumped, unable to retort. Jordan narrows his eyes: “You two just hanging around here, hoping we’ll build you a house too?”

He’s trying to sound tough, but his voice wobbles.

Marissa puts on a troubled face: “Autumn, Riley, I know it’s hard for you girls to build a shelter. But Jordan and Carter are injured and need to rest. They really can’t help you.”

She says it with just the right amount of pity. If she had a violin, she’d be playing it.

Riley scoffs: “You’re overthinking it. We already found a place—way better than this. We wouldn’t touch your dump.”

She flips her hair, and I have to bite my cheek to keep from grinning.

Marissa, knowing the crew’s setup, sneers: “Riley, stop pretending. I bet you two had a rough night.”

She tries to look sympathetic, but the corners of her mouth twitch.

Riley wants to argue, but I squeeze her hand, signaling her to stay calm. I smile: “Riley’s right—we did find a place. Looks like your house isn’t coming along, and Jordan and Carter are hurt. Why not move in with us?”

I say it like I’m offering them a golden ticket. The look on Marissa’s face is priceless.

As expected, Brandon isn’t having it: “You two found a better place? Please.”

He rolls his eyes so hard, I’m surprised they don’t get stuck.

Carter politely declines: “We appreciate it, but we’d rather build something ourselves.”

He tries to sound gracious, but I can see the regret in his eyes.

Marissa nods: “Carter’s right.”

She tries to sound decisive, but I catch the uncertainty in her voice.

“Alright, good luck then.”

I wave as we leave, enjoying every second of their stubborn pride.

That’s exactly what I wanted—to keep them from trying to move in later when they realize how nice our place is.

I wink at Riley, and we head back to our cave, feeling like queens.

The comments are loving it:

“Tsk, Marissa and her crew sure are stubborn.”

“Watch them beg to move in with Autumn later.”

“They’re not like that!”

“Who knows…”

The drama is thick, and the viewers can’t get enough.

By noon, the sun is blazing. We return to the cave and find a crockpot bubbling in the back, surrounded by fresh steak, sausage, fried chicken, fish fillets, tofu, and all kinds of vegetables—not to mention dipping sauces.

The smell is intoxicating. My stomach growls so loud, Riley bursts out laughing.

Riley’s eyes light up. Since we arrived, we’ve only had grilled trout. As good as it is, we’re getting sick of it.

She circles the crockpot, practically drooling. “If this is a dream, don’t wake me up.”

She gasps: “Isn’t this supposed to be a survival show? How do we have all this?”

She pokes the steak with a fork, half-expecting it to vanish.

“Maybe there’s a magic conch hiding in the cave.”

I wink at her, but we both know who’s behind this feast.

No need to guess—this is my boyfriend’s surprise.

He always did have a flair for the dramatic.

Riley hesitates: “What if this is a test from the crew? If we eat it, are we breaking the show’s rules?”

She glances nervously at the cave entrance, as if expecting a producer to burst in.

“No worries. Not eating would just make us look stupid.”

I wave her concerns away, already piling my plate.

“Should we invite Marissa and her group?” She’s not being sentimental—just worried about being called selfish.

Her voice is hesitant, but I know she’s just covering all the bases.

I wave it off: “The crew definitely set them up with food too. Let’s just enjoy it.”

I flash her a reassuring smile. No way am I sharing this feast with people who called me dead weight.

“Okay!”

She digs in, and soon we’re both elbow-deep in food, laughing and licking our fingers.

We dig in. Fresh food, secret sauces—it’s pure bliss. I feel more like I’m on vacation than a survival show.

I lean back, stuffed, and sigh. “If this is hardship, I hope it never ends.”

Since this is a 24/7 live broadcast, and the cave has no cameras, we decide to head out after lunch to check on Marissa’s progress.

I toss on a pair of sunglasses and stride out like I own the place. Time to check on the competition.

When we arrive, we find they’ve given up on building a house and set up four tents instead. Marissa sees us and tries to hide her smugness: “Autumn, Riley, we got lucky and found four tents.”

She holds up a tent pole like it’s the Olympic torch. The boys look exhausted, but Marissa’s smile is as bright as ever.

No doubt, the crew tipped her off again.

I reply coolly: “Congrats.”

I make sure my tone is flat, giving nothing away.

“Too bad there are only four tents. If we had more, we’d share. You should keep looking—there must be more on the island.”

She says it so sweetly, but I see the calculation in her eyes. She’s baiting us, waiting for us to beg.

Not far off, Brandon shouts, “Marissa, bring a bucket—we caught a big fish!”

His voice cracks with excitement, but I can tell he’s desperate for a win.

I look over and see Brandon, Jordan, and Carter holding brand new fishing rods.

They wave them around like they just invented fishing. I can’t help but roll my eyes.

Marissa explains: “We found these on the island too. Our luck’s really good.”

She flashes a grin, but I know the crew handed her a map. No one’s that lucky.

The crew told her where everything was. Unless she’s an idiot, there’s no way she wouldn’t find them.

Riley says, “Autumn, let’s look for supplies too.”

She’s playing along, but I know she’s as fed up as I am.

“No need.” I know Marissa too well. The crew wants us to be her contrast—they’re not giving us anything extra.

I glance at the sky, pretending to ponder, but really, I’m just savoring the moment.

Brandon, overhearing, scowls: “You two want to mooch off our catch, don’t you?”

He puffs up his chest, trying to look intimidating.

Jordan frowns: “This is a survival show, Autumn, Riley. You’re supposed to work for your food, not freeload.”

He wags a finger at us, like he’s our dad.

Riley rolls her eyes: “Did we say we wanted your food?”

She says it slow and clear, as if talking to a child.

Carter glances at me: “Especially you, Autumn, sitting under a sun umbrella. Anyone would think you’re here on vacation.”

He tries to sound superior, but I can hear the envy.

I arch an eyebrow, smiling: “Brandon, want to bet I can catch ten times as much food as you in half an hour?”

I lean forward, daring him to take the bait.

Brandon snorts: “Ha! You don’t even have any tools. If you out-fish me, I’ll bow down and call you Queen.”

He smirks, but I see the nervous twitch in his jaw.

“I don’t need a son your age.”

I shoot back, and Riley snickers beside me.

“Still so stubborn? Tell you what—if you win, I’ll give you the lead role in my dad’s company’s next film, ‘After the Breakup.’”

Now I’m interested. I’d auditioned for that role—the director praised me, said I brought the character to life. I thought I had it in the bag, but two days later, the director regretfully told me I didn’t get it. Turns out, Brandon’s father, the investor, preferred Marissa for the role.

The memory stings, but I hide it behind a smile. Maybe this is my shot at revenge.

I smile. If I can win it back this way, why not?

I sit up straighter, eyes locked on Brandon. “You’re on.”

Worried he’ll back out, I say, “Deal.”

I extend my hand, and he shakes it—sweaty palm and all.

Marissa looks anxious: “Brandon, isn’t betting a role a little reckless?”

She’s biting her lip, eyes darting between us. For once, she doesn’t have all the answers.

He’s confident: “Don’t worry, Marissa. Autumn doesn’t even have a fishing rod. She thinks she’s some fishing master? Let’s see her try.”

He laughs, but it sounds forced.

Marissa relaxes: “Good luck.”

She gives me a little wave, but I see the worry in her eyes.

Brandon adds: “If you lose, you do whatever I say.”

He leans in, trying to intimidate me.

“No problem.”

I grin, knowing he has no idea what he’s up against.

He’s clueless—this whole ocean belongs to my boyfriend. I don’t even need to look for food; it comes to me.

I cross my legs, settling in under my umbrella. This is going to be fun.

Right then, Jordan and Carter chime in: “We want to bet too.”

They jump in like sharks smelling blood. I smirk—bring it on.

I’m thrilled—two more suckers.

“What do you want to bet?”

I cock my head, waiting for their terms.

Jordan says, “If you win, I’ll write you a song. If you lose, you can’t appear in any show or drama with Marissa.”

He glances at Marissa, who lowers her head, blushing. Showing off in front of me? Wait till you crash and burn.

I agree: “Deal!”

I shake his hand, locking in the bet.

The comments are buzzing:

“Wow, Jordan’s songs are priceless—Autumn’s getting a steal.”

“Not that she’ll win—Jordan’s just being sweet to Marissa.”

“Isn’t Jordan kind of mean for a guy?”

“So what? Autumn agreed to the bet.”

“I don’t think Autumn will lose.”

“Ha, her fans are as stubborn as she is.”

I scroll through the chat, grinning at the chaos.

Carter says, “If you win, I’ll cook for you on the island. If you lose, you have to stop acting for three years—work on your skills.”

He’s ruthless. I may not have the best reputation lately, but I’ve got the looks and the acting chops. One hit show and I could turn things around. Three years off would ruin my career. The industry moves fast—no one would remember me after that.

He meets my eyes, daring me to back down. But I’m not giving him the satisfaction.

Riley, knowing what’s at stake, tries to talk me out of it: “Autumn, maybe don’t…”

She tugs at my sleeve, voice shaky. But I shake my head, determination burning in my chest.

No way! I want to see their faces when they lose.

I reply crisply: “I’m in.”

I cross my arms, signaling the end of discussion.

Brandon, Jordan, and Carter get serious about fishing. I just sit under my umbrella, doing nothing.

They hustle, casting lines and muttering to themselves. I close my eyes, basking in the sun.

Jordan mocks: “Giving up already?”

He tries to sound cocky, but I see the sweat on his brow.

Carter frowns: “You’re not going to back out, are you?”

He glances at the camera, worried about his image.

Brandon stands up: “Autumn, the whole country is watching. If you back out, the hate will drown you.”

He points at the camera, trying to turn the audience against me.

Riley, worried but loyal: “Enough, just fish. None of you have caught anything yet—who are you to judge?”

She stands by my side, arms crossed. I shoot her a grateful look.

The guys, unable to win an argument with her, sulk and focus on fishing.

They grumble, casting their lines with extra force.

About fifteen minutes in, Brandon catches the first fish. He crows: “See that, Autumn? I caught a big one!”

He holds it up like a trophy, grinning ear to ear.

Riley holds her ground: “Don’t get cocky—there’s still time. Celebrate too soon and you’ll end up embarrassed.”

She winks at me, and I stifle a laugh.

Brandon scoffs: “Look at your buddy—she hasn’t even tried. Are you sure she can beat me? She’s obviously giving up.”

He waves his fish around, trying to rile me up.

Even Riley starts to worry: “Autumn, maybe you should at least try?”

She nudges me, but I just smile.

“No need.” I pat her shoulder. “Just wait and see.”

I wink, confident as ever.

The comments:

“Gotta say, Autumn sure talks tough.”

“Thanos could snap his fingers and end the world, and Autumn would still be talking.”

“She’s obviously given up. Why was I even rooting for her?”

“If she wins, I’ll wash my hair standing on my head.”

“WAIT, WHAT’S THAT???”

“IS THIS REAL???”

“I used to believe in science—now someone explain this to me!”

Suddenly, the calm sea is swarming with king crabs and lobsters, crawling right up to me. Fish and shrimp leap into my bucket. It’s like they’re volunteering to be eaten. In three minutes, I’m surrounded by seafood. Compared to my haul, the guys’ fish look pathetic.

The sand is alive with color—crabs, lobsters, even a couple of fat clams. Riley’s jaw drops, and I just shrug, as if this happens every day.

Their reactions match the viewers’:

Brandon rubs his eyes: “Am I dreaming? Why is all this seafood coming to her?”

He blinks, then pinches his own arm.

He slaps Jordan.

Jordan yelps: “Why hit me?!”

Brandon, satisfied: “Guess this is real!”

Jordan curses: “You’re nuts! If you’re hallucinating, hit yourself—not me!”

Brandon grins: “That hurts more!”

Carter studies me, incredulous: “Autumn, how did you do that?”

He looks at me like I’m some kind of witch. I just smile, mysterious.

“Must be personal charm. You lost—don’t forget our bet.”

I toss a crab in the air and catch it, grinning.

Their faces turn grim, especially Marissa. She was supposed to be the lead in ‘After the Breakup’—now it’s gone. Jordan has to write me a song, and Carter has to cook for me. Major losses all around.

Marissa forces a smile: “Autumn, isn’t this unfair to them? The seafood just came to you. They actually worked for their fish.”

She tries to play the fairness card, but it falls flat.

I reply coolly: “You’ve got it backwards. It’s unfair to me. They had tools—I had nothing, and still got more.”

I say it loud enough for the cameras, making sure the viewers hear.

Riley agrees: “Exactly. When you had fishing rods and Autumn didn’t, why didn’t you say it was unfair then?”

She crosses her arms, daring anyone to argue.

“If you can’t handle losing, don’t play.”

“Especially you three—don’t you dare back out now. I’ll lose all respect.”

“Double standards—so lame!”

Riley’s on a roll, and the guys shrink back.

Brandon, the spoiled rich kid, can’t stand being goaded. Riley practically shouts in his face, and he flushes. “It’s just a movie role. Whatever. I’ll have my dad’s company sign you after the show.”

He kicks at the sand, sulking.

Marissa can’t smile anymore. The role she almost had just slipped away. With Brandon conceding, Jordan and Carter have to honor their bets too.

I beam: “Carter, what are you waiting for? Get this seafood ready—we want a feast tonight.”

I clap my hands, and Carter scowls, but he grabs the buckets.

Carter grits his teeth and mutters, “Fine.”

He stomps off, muttering under his breath.

The viewers are still reeling from the king crab parade:

“How did Autumn do that?”

“Rigged, has to be rigged.”

“Marissa’s fans, calm down. This can’t be explained by rigging.”

“I read a study—some people naturally attract animals.”

“Who cares—Autumn is awesome!”

“I thought she was just pretending. Turns out she’s the real deal.”

I scroll through the chat later, cackling at the confusion.