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

Winnie felt a tension rise within her as her mind wandered to Van's grueling schedule over the past few days. She realized he had probably been getting less than four hours of sleep a night. She opened the door and caught a faint glimmer of weariness in his dark, deep eyes. His expression was silent, as if sheer willpower and the cigarette between his fingers were the only things keeping him upright.


'I'm sorry," he said quietly. 'I should've acted like a gentleman and told you I'd sleep on the couch, but…" He raised his hand slightly, the one holding the cigarette, and his fingers gently brushed against Winnie's cheek. 'I'm just too tired. Can you forgive me for tonight?"


Van paused for a moment, then leaned in and kissed her gently. It was a soft, quiet kiss, one that seemed to freeze time. Though it wasn't passionate, it was deeply immersive, drawing them both in.


Chapter 85