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

On both sides stretched vast, seemingly endless fields of vibrant green. They were clearly not tended by the municipality, as their untamed neatness and lushness made every view feel invigorating.


They drove along the asphalt road for five minutes before a white security booth appeared ahead, with a horizontal parking barrier. Next to the booth was a silver metal sign that read: "Private Road, Unauthorized Entry Prohibited."


Winnie turned to ask, "Animal protection base?"


Van curled his lips into a smile. "Don't worry, I won't sell you!"


Winnie pouted in annoyance, muttering softly, "I'm not an animal!"


The security guard in the booth wore a black suit, his tall, upright figure resembling a pine tree. He had an earpiece connected to a walkie-talkie. As the car approached, he bowed slightly and remained in that position until the car passed.


Chapter 64