

Badass gang boss transmigrates into a simp doormat wife!She plays nice for 3 years to go home, but the system glitches right when time's up, stranding her. She drops the act, claps back at every bully at the banquet, and gets a Clapback Reward System. Now she humiliates every jerk and gets prizes for it.

In Part Two of GoodChat, Alexa Reddy and Fulop Budavari turn up the fun with games that test their quick wit and sense of humor: from decoding movie titles using only three emojis to a hilarious round of “Kiss, Marry, Kill” featuring Alexa’s former co-stars. The laughs soon give way to reflection as Alexa opens up about her passion for acting, the lessons she’s learned, and the heartfelt advice she’d give her younger self.

It’s getting hot… and spooky… on this special Halloween edition of GoodChat! Actor Fulop Budavari sits down with Paint Me Yours Miss Bad Kisser star Alexa Reddy for a fiery, fun conversation filled with behind-the-scenes tea and hauntingly good laughs. From her favorite on-set moments to braving hot wings & hot spooky questions challenge, Alexa proves she’s just as bold off-screen as she is on.

On their third anniversary, Finley had all their friends over to celebrate. Claire walked in to find him on one knee, proposing to his childhood friend, Renee. "What is going on?" she asked. He shrugged like it was nothing. "It's just a game of truth or dare." But it wasn't until he shoved her down the stairs, causing her to miscarry, that she finally woke up. She'd given him five chances. Now? She was done. "Finley, it's over. Let's get divorced."

At the party for our first wedding anniversary, I hit the floor—face-first on a red carpet, gasping like a fish out of water. Carlo Pipino, my husband, had his arm draped around Gianna Verde, his childhood flame, sipping champagne and laughing. Gianna knew I was allergic to nuts. So, obviously, she bathed everything in hazelnut dressing. One bite and boom—my throat locked, my lungs lit up, and hives popped like confetti. I reached for my allergy meds—came up with a fistful of melted M&Ms instead. Gianna laughed when she saw my face. "Surprise! Carlo swapped your meds. Seriously, Siena, one nut? Dramatic much?" I slid off my chair, wheezing, while the crowd placed bets on how long my "performance" would last. "Carlo... my meds..." I croaked. "Please. I'm gonna die." He sighed, annoyed. "God, you're so dramatic. Why do women always play dead for attention? You know I love you. Just stop this show already." Right then, my heart shattered faster than my lungs could. I stopped begging. Hit the distress signal. Called my real family.

At the party for our first wedding anniversary, I hit the floor—face-first on a red carpet, gasping like a fish out of water. Carlo Pipino, my husband, had his arm draped around Gianna Verde, his childhood flame, sipping champagne and laughing. Gianna knew I was allergic to nuts. So, obviously, she bathed everything in hazelnut dressing. One bite and boom—my throat locked, my lungs lit up, and hives popped like confetti. I reached for my allergy meds—came up with a fistful of melted M&Ms instead. Gianna laughed when she saw my face. "Surprise! Carlo swapped your meds. Seriously, Siena, one nut? Dramatic much?" I slid off my chair, wheezing, while the crowd placed bets on how long my "performance" would last. "Carlo... my meds..." I croaked. "Please. I'm gonna die." He sighed, annoyed. "God, you're so dramatic. Why do women always play dead for attention? You know I love you. Just stop this show already." Right then, my heart shattered faster than my lungs could. I stopped begging. Hit the distress signal. Called my real family.