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

It was funny to Winnie that someone like Van, who wasn't lacking in women, still needed to go on blind dates. Was it because choosing a girlfriend or mistress only required mutual attraction, but selecting a wife was something to be carefully considered and taken seriously?


Wendy actually didn't want to share this, but Yulia had seen it when they were all hanging out together.


Van was wearing a white shirt and black trousers. Maybe because it wasn't a formal date, he hadn't worn a tie, or perhaps it was the good weather that day, so he had rolled up his sleeves, revealing a strong, sexy arm with prominent veins. He even wore glasses, with silver frames, and was looking down at his phone. On the table in front of him was a coffee cup and saucer.


Yulia gasped, "Wow, Mr. Marlowe! How do you have Mr. Marlowe on your Instagram?!"


The caption of the photo was quite blunt: Out on a blind date, ladies, are you in? If you're in, comment '1', if not, comment '2'.


Chapter 46