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 woke with a sudden realization: The bed-sheet was wet!


In her dream, she had tossed and turned, and the only thought lingering in her mind was: The maid will come to change the sheets, and it's going to be so awkward! I have to stop them! Or come up with an excuse!


She sat up abruptly, blurting out in a rush, "We accidentally spilled water on the bed last night—"


Looking down at herself, she noticed her silky, soft pajamas. The sheets were perfectly dry, and the sea breeze drifted in through the slightly open window, gently stirring the white curtains.


This wasn't Van's room but her own guest bedroom. On the nightstand, the jewelry she had carefully arranged the night before still lay quietly in place. Sunlight filtered through the window, casting a glow on the jewels, making them sparkle like scattered candies.


Winnie ran a hand through her hair, her face filled with agony.


Chapter 132