NewEraCulture

A high-society romance where pretense turned into reality.
 
Van, the heir to a top-tier fortune and a regular on the front page of the Wall Street Journal, had been mocked for being perpetually single, with even rumors swirling about his "dysfunction."
 
Winnie, a Hollywood superstar desperate to escape her constant barrage of scandals, encountered this billionaire worth tens of billions. To her surprise, Van presented her with an unexpected proposal:
 
"Pretend to date me for a year. You won't have to do anything else. I'll pay you $100 million after taxes."
 
She planned to laugh it off but couldn't ignore the man's chiseled features—the way his shadowed face was lit up as he casually raised an eyebrow and lit a cigarette in the glow of firelight, his voice steady and laced with danger.
 
She remembered their first meeting in a torrential downpour—the man reclining in a silver Maybach, eyes half-closed, exuding charm yet utterly unattainable. She also remembered later, when everyone had believed him to be unshakable and untouchable, he had appeared alone, worn and weary, at her remote desert film set, quietly asking:
 
"Do you really have to shoot this kiss scene?"
 
Behind this contract lay something far deeper than money—a fixation, a love that had turned real, or perhaps an irresistible force neither of them had recognized.
 
$100 million had set the stage for a high-stakes battle of love and hate that would ultimately unravel.

A Love Confession from Las Vegas

Yulia understood this well. She quickly went, jogging there and back, thinking Winnie wanted to wear it for Van to see.


Winnie took it and handed it to Van. "Last time you forgot, so I dared to wear it for a few days. Now it's returned to its owner."


Van looked at her and didn't say a word. As he left, he casually tossed it into the mailbox by the door. There was a soft thud—whatever "queen" or "princess" it represented, it would probably never see the light of day again.


Once in the car, Eric repeatedly seemed on the verge of saying something but hesitated. Van gave the order, "Tomorrow, have Wendy give you Miss Loxley's account, transfer 1 million to her."


Eric was stunned, even unconsciously tapping the brake. He steadied the steering wheel, unsure whether he should be shocked that they actually kissed, or mock the absurdity of a million-dollar kiss, which was probably more expensive than a scam.


Chapter 52