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 stood in front of the mirror, carefully examining her look, then picked up her phone and took a selfie to send to Van.


Van responded quickly, his tone flat: It's okay.


Winnie bit her lip, unable to resist asking: Mr. Marlowe, will you watch me on the red carpet?


Van's reply was still brief and direct: No time.


Elva's assistants were busy packing up, and half an hour later, they left with bags and packages. Elva breathed a sigh of relief, stood at the door to say a reluctant goodbye to Winnie, and even took a video call with the editor-in-chief of Vibe to discuss if her red carpet look was appropriate.


Once Elva left, the remaining four women collapsed onto the sofa. Anne stared at the now-empty room, her gaze hollow. 'To be honest, it's really impressive how she managed to pull so many couture pieces together in such a short time."


Chapter 90