The packed auditorium erupted into a frenzy of cheers and applause as Meesha Dasilva stepped onto the sprawling stage, her stilettos clicking confidently on the polished floor. The spotlight danced across her flawless features, illuminating her beautiful face. Cameras scrambled to capture her image, the flashbulbs creating a dazzling display of lights.

But little did the audience know, a sinister plan was already in motion. Vanessa had locked Meesha in the dressing room and had a professional impersonator slip into the event, disguised as Meesha. The impersonator mingled with guests, attempting to blend in seamlessly.

On the "Star Talk" set, the interviewer welcomed the fake Meesha with a warm smile. "Welcome back to 'Star Talk'! Tonight, we have the stunning Meesha Dasilva. Meesha, what's your secret to success?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

The impersonator acted nervously, fumbling for words. "Uh, yeah... my secret is... um... ice cream?" she replied, her voice trembling slightly. The audience chuckled, and the interviewer raised an eyebrow.

"Ice cream? That's... unique. How does ice cream contribute to your success?" he asked, his tone laced with amusement.

The impersonator replied, "Well... it's just... really good... and cold... like me?" 

The audience burst into laughter, and the interviewer's expression turned quizzical.

Meanwhile, Meesha banged her fists on the door, her screams piercing through the silent hallway. "Let me out! Is anyone there?! Let me out!" she yelled, her voice muffled by the door.

On the stage, the interviewer replied, "That's... interesting. What inspires your fashion choices?" 

The impersonator hesitated, her eyes darting around the audience. "Uh... my closet?" she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

The interviewer inquired, "Your closet? Can you elaborate?" 

The impersonator stumbled, "Yeah... I just... look in there... and stuff..." 

The audience's laughter turned into awkward silence.

Meesha watched from backstage, a sneer appearing on her face. 

"Oh no, she's bombing," Kira gasped, her eyes wide with concern. "You have to go out there before she ruins you."

Meesha nodded, knowing she had to intervene. She took a deep breath, smoothed her dress, and stepped onto the stage, her presence commanding attention. "Sorry to interrupt, but I think I can answer that better," she said, her voice confident and clear.

The interviewer, along with the crowd, were taken aback. "Wait, there are two Meeshas?" the interviewer asked, his eyes darting between the two women.

Meesha smiled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Just one genuine Ice Queen, I assure you." 

The impersonator yelled, "No, I'm the real Meesha!"

Meesha laughed, her voice like music, still surprised the impersonator wouldn't give up the act. "Really? Then tell me, what's my favorite ice cream flavor?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

The impersonator hesitated, her eyes darting around the audience. "Uh... rocky road? To nowhere?" she replied, her voice trembling slightly.

Meesha's smile never wavered. "Wrong. It's banana," she said.

The audience roared with laughter, the sound waves crashing against the stage like a tsunami. The interviewer faced the camera, a grin spreading across his face. "Well, it seems we have an impersonator on our hands!" he exclaimed.

Meesha nodded in agreement, her sky-blue hair bobbing up and down. "Any police officers watching the show should come right up to arrest this criminal," she said, her tone sarcastic.

As soon as the impersonator heard the words 'police officer', she scrambled off the seat, her eyes wide with panic. She took to her heels, but was blocked immediately by a group of officers, their uniforms a stark contrast to the glamorous atmosphere of the stage.

The impersonator's eyes widened, her face pale with fear. "No, it's not me. It's Vanessa. That witch! She asked me to impersonate Meesha," she screamed, her voice echoing through the auditorium.

The police officers dragged her away, her struggles futile against their firm grip. As she was pulled off the stage, she spotted Vanessa, her eyes blazing with anger. "Vanessa, you have to help me! You got me into this! Come and help me out!" she shouted, her voice hoarse with desperation.

Vanessa, with her great acting skills, feigned innocence, her expression a perfect mask of surprise. "Me? What are you talking about? I don't even know you," she said, her voice dripping with sweetness.

The impersonator clenched her fists, her nails digging into her skin. "You liar! You asked me to impersonate Meesha, and you promised to pay me a lot of money!" she spat, her voice venomous.

Vanessa turned to the police officers, her eyes wide with innocence. "Officers, I don't know what this woman is talking about," she said, her voice trembling slightly.

The officers nodded politely to Vanessa, their faces impassive. "Yes, Miss Hauls. We believe you," one of them said, his voice firm.

The impersonator was dumbfounded, unable to speak, her eyes wide with shock and anger. 

Vanessa's gaze drifted to the stage, a scowl appearing on her face, her eyes narrowing into slits. She heaved a sigh, realizing her sabotage had once again boosted Meesha's popularity.

*********

Meesha was walking across the bustling backstage area, the sound of chatter and laughter filling the air, when she stumbled upon a disturbing scene. Paulina, Vanessa's new protégée, was berating a young model, her voice dripping with venom. The young girl, trembling with fear, looked like a fragile leaf in the midst of a hurricane.

Paulina, with her perfectly coiffed hair and designer outfit, towered over the girl, her eyes filled with entitlement. "You think you can walk the runway better than me? You're just a pathetic wannabe!"