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 the elegantly set dining table adorned with delicate bouquets of fresh flowers, the plates had been cleared away, replaced by fresh, short-stemmed wine glasses. These now held freshly brewed mulled wine, its rich aroma blending cinnamon, cloves, and sweet orange into an intoxicating symphony.


The night was deep, and the wine, smooth and intoxicating.


At some point, Eric knocked softly on the door before entering. He leaned down to whisper a few words to Van, his voice too low for Winnie to catch.


Van nodded slightly and responded briefly, "Understood. Have the car wait at the entrance."


Winnie glanced down at her watch. It was only about 8 p.m., yet the evening felt unusually long. Though it felt long, it hadn't been entirely satisfying. And while it wasn't fully satisfying, it still had to end.


Through the glass, she noticed the night outside was a rich, deep blue, and the breeze carried with it the faint, sweet fragrance of vanilla groves.


Chapter 27