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

Van rarely broke his word, but at that moment, he opened his eyes, and the normally calm depths of his gaze rippled with dark intensity.


He saw Winnie kneeling on the console, her slender waist wrapped in the fabric of her skirt, her body gracefully straight as she casually tied his ivy-patterned tie over her eyes.


Winnie didn't notice his change. It wasn't until she had finished tying the tie and sat back in the passenger seat that she said, "All done."


She sat up straight, her delicate back pressed against the seat, her face turned toward the windshield. The hands that had been playfully at work on him earlier were now neatly clasped, resting on her lap. Her slightly lowered neck formed a graceful curve beneath her one-shoulder dress, glowing with a porcelain white light in the night. She looked like a swan, head bowed in quiet contemplation.


Van calmly and deliberately looked away.


Chapter 33