I'm pursued by superstar after betrayed

Director Darius didn’t bother with small talk. He just knocked back one bottle after another, completely unfazed, until finally he set his glass down.

"Let’s cut to the chase. The supporting role’s yours," he said coolly, reaching for his briefcase. "I’ll send someone over to get the contract signed tomorrow."

With that, he shoved the door open, leaned against the wall to steady himself, and stumbled out. His stomach was churning, but he never once lost his composure.

Right outside the door, Violeta Reynolds ran straight into Lenora Kelly. Lenora didn’t even notice her. Her cheek was still faintly swollen under all that foundation as she gossiped to a friend:

"Raiden’s been spoiling me more and more lately. I was supposed to grab coffee with the director today, but Raiden stopped me—he even made that woman apologize to me in person."

"But you know how these directors and producers are, they’re always crossing lines. Sometimes they get grabby, and you can’t exactly push them away hard. Raiden actually cares about me, though… I keep wondering when he’ll finally leave her. It feels so close now."

"Yeah, seriously, it’s right around the corner. Last night when he marked me, he said his own wife won’t even let him go that far. I’ll never get why some women act all high and mighty when they can’t even keep their own man."

"Lenora, c’mon, you know Raiden’s wife has a powerful family. Be careful not to stir up too much trouble."

Lenora just rolled her eyes and brushed off the warning. She was dead set on making that stuck-up wife pay—already planning to set her up with some sleazy directors to humiliate her.

Standing right there listening, Violeta felt another wave of nausea roll over her. She shoved open the bathroom door fast and bolted for the sink to empty her stomach.

Her reflection in the mirror looked drained, her eyes ringed red. It was heartbreaking to see. She splashed cold water on her face, desperate to cool the burn, but the fire in her stomach wouldn’t fade. After three rounds of heaving, she finally felt a little better.

Violeta never had much of a tolerance for alcohol. Raised right since she was little to keep herself restrained, she never was one to overindulge. But with all that hard liquor she’d knocked back, the burn crawling from her throat down to her stomach was unbearable. Her clothes reeked of booze—there was no way she could go home like this.

As she lowered her lashes and pressed a hand to her churning stomach, she caught a familiar face in the mirror’s reflection. She pulled her hand away fast, splashed her face one more time with cold water, and turned to face him, her expression already steady.

"I got the supporting role," she said simply.

Quincy Lawrence stood by the door, a cap pulled low over his head. His hand had already lifted, almost reaching for her, before he stopped short. He always hated unnecessary physical contact.

He lowered his eyes, his voice rough and gravelly: "You didn’t have to go that far."

The bathroom’s fluorescent light was harsh, but it made Violeta look almost painfully striking, her eyes glistening faintly from the steam of the sink.

"Listen. I brought you here, Quincy. This is your big break. We both have the talent—together, we’re going to make it."

He swallowed hard. After a second of hesitation, he finally wrapped his hand around her arm to steady her.

Violeta had always kept a careful distance from men, never letting herself lean on any of them. But the alcohol had turned her brain to mush, and she stumbled as they walked out of the karaoke bar.

The karaoke bar was attached to a fancy high-end hotel. Adonis Howell’s car was parked right out front—he’d just finished wrapping up a meeting with a client.

He looked up and spotted a tall man helping a stumbling woman out of the bar. He recognized Violeta instantly. Everyone knew her.

He frowned at the sight and dialed Raiden Evans.

"Raiden, I just saw Violeta with another guy. They looked pretty damn close."

Back at his office, Raiden froze mid-type. "You must have misseen."

Adonis got it. The Reynolds family had such strict standards, Violeta would never act inappropriate with another man. In all the years of their marriage, even when she picked up clients from the airport, she kept a polite distance from every male staff member. He’d joked before that Violeta was so unwaveringly faithful, she was practically untouchable.

Adonis laughed. "Maybe I’m wrong. But a woman like Violeta… she’d never put up with this, not when he’s out cheating left and right anyway."

Raiden hung up, his mind wandering, his brow knitting deeper by the second.

Violeta’s stomach and head were both throbbing. When she climbed into the car, she stumbled, and her nose slammed straight into Quincy’s chest, a dull ache spreading out from the impact.

Quincy settled her into the passenger seat and adjusted the back for her. Her cheeks were flushed pink as she reminded him: "Don’t forget to sign the contract with Darius tomorrow."

"Yeah, but first we’re getting you to the hospital."

Her eyes were closed, sweat beading on her forehead from the stomach pain. "Sorry for the trouble."

At the hospital, after they pumped her stomach, she was ghostly pale. Leaning back against the hospital bed, she looked like all the color had been drained right out of her.

The doctor warned her: "Go easy on the drinking next time. You’re this close to a stomach ulcer—this isn’t something to mess around with."

She pulled on a wobbly smile. "Thank you."

The doctor just sighed, assuming this was just another lovers’ quarrel gone wrong.

Violeta leaned back against the bed, the smell of alcohol still clinging stubbornly to her skin. She discreetly sent money to Leighton Howell, asking her to pick up a fresh set of clothes for her.

She couldn’t go home reeking of liquor. Raiden might not care, but the household staff would gossip like crazy. Coming home smelling of booze two days in a row would get the Reynolds family all up in arms, and she’d end up having to explain herself at the next family dinner before she knew it.

Leighton showed up with fresh clothes, took one look at Violeta’s pale face, and immediately guessed what had gone down.

"Raiden is the absolute worst, isn’t he? He hands his mistress everything on a silver platter, and makes his own wife fight tooth and nail for a lousy supporting role, almost drinking herself to death over it! Fifteen years, Violeta. We’ve been friends for fifteen years. How can he be so damn indifferent to you?"

Violeta remembered Quincy hated messy drama, so she coughed softly to interrupt: "Leighton."

Leighton took a deep breath and bit her tongue. "Fine. I’m done making excuses for Raiden. I’m cutting him off—I swear. After everything you’ve done for him, all the support, handling every single thing he needed… if he had any conscience at all, he’d never let this happen."

Violeta rubbed her throbbing temples. "Just let it go."