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

Winnie quickly moved to the other side and got into the car.


Eric didn't lower the partition, but the atmosphere in the backseat between the two was completely different from before. The air felt as if it had frozen.


Winnie didn't know where Van was taking her or how far the journey would be. The window on her side wasn't covered by a curtain, and the street scenes shifted and changed. The late autumn afternoon sunlight filtered through the blue glass buildings, sometimes disappearing, sometimes glaring.


Her emotions from last night and today had been like a rollercoaster, going up and down. After half an hour of pretending at the event, she was now blinded by the sunlight, and all she could feel was drowsiness. Her eyelids fluttered shut, and she quickly fell asleep.


Everything in the Maybach was silent—driving quietly, lowering the partition quietly, cutting off the sea breeze quietly.


In her peaceful sleep, Winnie faintly heard voices.


Chapter 63