Chapter 3

Leading the young man back into the event caused quite a stir.

Attention shifted toward us from every direction, but I ignored it. The young man also seemed focused only on me, paying everyone else no mind.

Emil glared from his seat as he furiously fired off texts.

Emil: [What the fuck are you doing?!]

Emil: [You think you can get under my skin just by bringing some random NPC with you?!]

Emil: [Do you still want me to marry you or not?! Because you're shooting your fucking self in the foot!]

A faint smirk tugged at my lips for a brief moment. He caught my eye and froze before his expression darkened even further.

"Miss Colbert, a little bird told us you came here to celebrate our Best Actor's achievements this year. He seems to be taking home quite a few awards tonight! Is there anything you'd like to say about that? Perhaps a word of congratulations?" the emcee asked.

I smiled. "Oh, then I guess the little bird got it wrong. I came here for this young man beside me. Not him."

The crowd gasped.

Everyone in the industry knew I was the deep pocket bankrolling Emil's career. His achievements were only possible because of my money. That meant we had some kind of "special connection."

The fact that I was dressed even more lavishly than several actresses, despite not being one myself, only reinforced the assumption that I was here to celebrate Emil's success.

I gestured toward the young man beside me.

He accepted the attention with poise and grace. "Good evening, everyone. My name is Ashe Olivier. I'm very honored to be here."

"Ashe is a very promising artist, I can tell you that. If any writer or director has an interesting project and is looking for fresh talent, give him a chance. I'm sure you'll be very surprised," I said.

The gossip grew louder as people darted their eyes between me and Emil.

"Is she kicking Emil to the curb?!"

"I mean, Emil and Bette are supposed to be practically engaged. But he didn't mention her in his acceptance speech at all. Then he hugged the actress he's rumored to be dating!"

"This new guy looks like the next internet dreamboat, y'all. Next Best Actor, anyone?"

"Bette really knows how to pick the right men, huh?"

"Uh-oh. Someone's suffering the consequences of being an idiot. If I were him, I'd have done everything I could to treasure Bette."

"Some people think they've got it all made just because they won an award. Pfft. Let's see how long he stays afloat without her."

Fans might be willfully ignorant, fiercely loyal to their chosen idols, and ready to wage a holy war for them, but people in the industry were far more pragmatic.

In Hollywood, connections were everything. Knowing the right person opened more doors than popularity ever could. And no one with half a brain and any ambition would piss off their financier.

Emil had it too good. I cultivated the connections for him, so he never had to humble himself or endure the humiliating grind of chasing roles. Eventually, he started believing his success came entirely from his own "effort."

Why was he the Best Actor at all? Hollywood was saturated with actors, many of whom were genuinely more talented than he was. Many worked harder. Plenty were even more physically attractive.

His fame and adoring fans had deluded him. He believed the fantasy they built around him. He had lost sight of reality.

"Aren't you a close friend, let's call it that for now, of Mr. Brando?" the emcee followed up, clearly hoping to stir up more drama. "Surely a friend would have prepared a congratulatory speech, right?"

The camera panned to Emil and his glowering face.

I grinned. "I'm the producer behind many of Mr. Brando's projects over the years, so yes. Of course I'm happy he made it this far. Congratulations! I hope he keeps winning awards like these every year so he can relive this moment again and again!"

Emil stared at me. Something about this felt off to him. I had arrived with a complete unknown, introduced him to the entire audience before acknowledging Emil, and only then offered my congratulations. It came across as more than a little passive-aggressive.