I'm pursued by superstar after betrayed

A group of us were carpooling into the city, and Leighton kept her cool, trying to calm the rest of us down. "At least the guy’s got money, anyway. All men are just weird like that sometimes."

Violeta suddenly snorted a laugh. "Quincy’s still here, y’know."

Leighton sped up, swiped her keycard, and stepped through the building lobby door. "Quincy doesn’t count. He’s a good kid, two years younger than us—marriage stuff totally flies over his head."

At twenty-seven, Leighton had married young. She jabbed the elevator call button and kept chatting with Violeta. "Once men get a little money, they can’t keep it in their pants, right? My husband might be the exception… but I bet Quincy’s got girls throwing themselves at him nonstop, huh?"

Violeta cleared her throat softy. "Leighton, can we drop this?"

Even if Quincy was like a little brother to them, he was still a guy. It wasn’t smart to go spouting off about cheating men when he was right there, especially with his career just taking off.

Leighton shut her mouth and hailed a cab when we got off the elevator. The 700-square-foot apartment was spotless—rent didn’t come cheap in a city like New York.

Violeta had been a full-time housewife for two years, and she’d gotten used to keeping everything perfect. She sat down on the couch and patted the cushion next to her, inviting Quincy to join her.

He hesitated a couple seconds before lowering himself slowly onto the seat.

Leighton brought out mugs of coffee for both of them, and her eyes lit up. "Wait, you’re going back into the industry? The studio was electric when we first started out—directors were shoving our names all over social media back then."

Violeta looked back on those old days with a faint ache in her chest, and downed her coffee in one go. "Quincy’s got real talent. It’d be such a waste to let it go to rot. I just… I feel terrible I haven’t done more to help him."

Quincy had on a baseball cap, his black hair tucked neatly under the brim. His brows and eyes were dark, unreadable.

Violeta knew Leighton didn’t regret her choice to step back—Leighton always babbled about making it big in Hollywood, but she’d drop the topic the second marriage came up.

Violeta took a deep breath and leaned forward to top off Leighton’s mug. She wasn’t used to the height of this coffee table, and she almost fumbled the whole glass carafe.

A hand shot out, wrapping firm around her wrist to steady it.

She looked up, stunned.

Quincy flicked a quick glance up at her, something unreadable flickering in his eyes before he pulled his hand back fast. "Sorry."

She shook her head and finished filling the mug. "No, it’s fine. I’m here to restart my career anyway. I’ve got enough savings saved up, and I’m reaching back out to old director contacts. Pretty soon we should be able to sign some new talent."

"Sign new talent? What about Quincy? Violeta, I’ve counted on him these past two years. We can’t just cut him loose, can we? He stayed when our studio was on the brink of collapsing."

"I’m going to back him."

Quincy tensed just a little, and turned his head toward them.

Violeta smiled softy. "We’re keeping him on, obviously."

Leighton nearly bounced out of her seat with excitement. "You know way more people in this industry than I do! And doesn’t your husband own that big entertainment company? What’s the harm in slipping Quincy a few good connections?"

Violeta huffed a dry laugh, running her fingertip slowly around the rim of her mug. "No. I need to build this on my own, so when I divorce Raiden I don’t have to rely on him for anything. I’m gonna take back everything I lost these past two years."

"Violeta… you’re actually going through with the divorce?"

Leighton darted a quick glance at Quincy before repeating herself. "You really aren’t gonna forgive him, are you? Dude cheating on you? That’s just nasty, right?"

Violeta’s fingers trembled against the ceramic. Leighton’s words were blunt, but they were true.

Lying next to Raiden last night had felt wrong, like sleeping next to a stranger.

She leaned back against the couch cushions and took a deep breath. "I can’t keep stuck in a broken marriage forever. The business ties between the Reynolds and Evans families are messy— I can’t just file tomorrow and be done with it. But for right now? I’m building my own thing."

So I don’t end up with nothing, out on the street when it’s all over.

Leighton jumped up and darted to the fridge, yanking out a handful of cold beers. "Hell yeah! Let’s get Quincy to A-list status, and let’s get you that divorce! Cheers, girl!"

Violeta rarely drank.

Her old-money family had drilled into her that a proper lady was always graceful and in control—things like alcohol that clouded your judgment were off limits.

Leighton was on a roll now. "C’mon, isn’t living by all those stuffy rules exhausting? I never bought into that whole family honor crap. What’s the point, anyway?"

The words stung, but Violeta picked up her bottle anyway—only for another hand to reach out first.

"Let me."

Quincy popped the cap off easy, one hand twisting it open without effort.

Violeta looked at his sharp profile, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Quincy’s still got that fresh, baby-faced glow, doesn’t he? Just a kid."

As he poured the beer into glasses, his long lashes lowered. "Forever young."

Violeta didn’t answer right away. There was a soft, warm hush to the moment, but underneath it everything felt fragile, bruised.

If you spent your whole life following stuffy rules, you never got to actually be young. How could you stay forever young, when your soul was already worn out?

No one kept track of how many beers they had. Eventually, Violeta slumped forward against the table, out like a light.

Leighton was already tipsy, yawning as she stumbled to her feet. "Quincy… can you help me? I’m dizzy as hell. I need to lay down on the other couch."

That left him alone with Violeta. He hesitated for a beat, then gently scooped her into his arms and carried her to the main sofa.

He grabbed a throw blanket from the armchair and draped it softy over her.

Quincy didn’t take the empty spot next to her. He lowered himself to the rug right by the couch, stared at her face for a long quiet minute, then dropped his head, sitting still in the dim glow of the room’s lamp.