I'm Serena Grey, born into a quiet countryside life where fame was nothing more than a story in magazines. I'd never seen a celebrity in person—until now. At nineteen, I found myself bound by a six-year contract marriage to Adrian Levine, the nation's most talked-about actor. The same Adrian who had been embroiled in a scandalous harassment case—later dismissed under murky circumstances. The same Adrian who was dating a famous actress before our contract began, the same man whose heart did not belong to me. The same Adrian rumored to be the son of a mafia. And yet, here I was, bound to him by ink and law, stepping into a life more dangerous and twisted than I could have ever imagined.
*1 week earlier*
"Eh… what's happening here?" I murmur, squinting against the harsh sun. The quiet countryside I know so well is unusually loud this afternoon—the gentle sway of dry grass, the distant rustle of leaves—gone, replaced by the rumble of trucks, the glare of bright lights, and the chaotic movement of crew members in headsets. I pedal my bicycle up the sun-scorched slope, the tires crunching against brittle earth, and gradually slow to a stop.
My phone rings, cutting through the noise.
"Oi! Don't you see it? A movie crew's here! Look to your left—I'm here!" Lina's voice is high-pitched, urgent, almost vibrating with excitement.
"It's not every day you see a film crew out here… I don't think anyone around here has ever seen one! They're about to shoot a stunt! Come quickly!" she squeals.
"A stunt?" I ask, dismounting and propping my bike against a twisted old tree. "Since when did they come?"
We hang up once our eyes meet. Lina practically vibrates with excitement beside me.
"Just a little while ago. Look to your right. See that guy in the leather jacket?"
I follow her gaze, and my chest freezes.
It's Adrian. He's never had a flop. He entered the industry eight years ago and went viral with his very first movie. He's even taller than I expected, blonde hair tousled as if each strand were placed by some careful hand, and his profile is sharp against the sky. Even in casual clothes, he looks unreal—like someone carved from imagination rather than flesh and bone. His honey-colored eyes catch the sunlight, glinting dangerously.
"THAT'S HIM! Adrian! He's going to do a stunt!" Lina practically screams, unable to contain herself.
Then the director calls, "Action!"
Adrian runs straight toward the abandoned truck, boots kicking up dust. In one motion, he plants a foot on the bumper and vaults over the hood, twisting mid-air before landing in a crouch. The precision is unreal—too sharp, too practiced, like his body already knows the choreography before the director even speaks.
A wave of gasps ripples through the crowd the moment Adrian lands.
People clutch their phones tighter, some even forgetting to record as their jaws drop.
A few kids shout, "Did you see that?!" while older villagers murmur in disbelief.
Whispers scatter everywhere: "Is that really him?"
"He did that without wires!"
"Actors these days… insane."
Even the crew can't hide their awe—camera operators exchange impressed looks, grips clap quietly, and someone whistles under their breath.
But then the stunt chief waves his arms.
"That's it. No more. The explosion shot is next—stunt double only."
Adrian wipes sweat from his brow, flashing that careless grin. "Worth a try."
Among the chaos, my reaction is the loudest—at least inside myself. My heart jumps, my breath stumbles, and I can't tear my eyes away from him. He looks annoyingly perfect, the dust settling around him like it's part of the scene he choreographed.
Who does something like that without a hint of fear?
I can't look away. And then—god—it feels like he senses it. His golden eyes lift, and if I'm not completely delusional, they're meeting mine.
Panic surges through me. An actor—the actor—is actually looking at me. My heart hammers painfully, my ears burn, and my stomach twists into knots. Why did he look at me? Did I stare too long? My whole body freezes.
Then suddenly—"Lina! Come have some juice—it's hot today!" a staff member calls.
Lina leans in conspiratorially, tugging at my arm. "The assistant director is cute. Let's go?"
I blink, dazed. "Wait… when did you get close with him?"
She winks and drags me away from Adrian's magnetic presence.
---
Night falls, draping the hills in dark velvet. The bonfire crackles, scattering sparks into the air. Crew members laugh, share take-out, and gossip about tomorrow's dangerous stunts. I sink onto a crate near the edge of the firelight, trying to calm my pulse.
Adrian moves through the crowd, keeping a measured distance, his posture relaxed yet commanding.
"He's not joining?" I whisper to Lina.
"No," Jake, the assistant director, replies, overhearing. "He rarely participates. Very professional."
Even so, across the firelight, Adrian's eyes find mine again—that same piercing gaze. My hand trembles around my cup, and I snap my stare to the flames. Why does he keep catching me looking at him? My pulse races, stomach twisting.
"Do you need an autograph? Lina already got one while you were at school. I can arrange for you to meet him too," Jake says.
Before I can even say yes, the world suddenly tilts. My head sways, nausea slamming into me.
"Hey… are you okay?" Lina asks, her voice distant through the buzzing noise.
"I… I need some air," I whisper, stepping toward the cooler, shadowed side of the hill. I quickly find a secluded spot to vomit, but minutes pass without anything coming up. I straighten when my dizziness eases, the breeze cooling my overheated skin.
Heavy, uneven footsteps approach.
"Hey… you're alone?" a slurred voice asks. A hot hand grabs my arm.
"I—don't need your help! Let go!" I struggle, pulling away.
"Come on, don't be scared—" his fingers twist along my arm.
Fear propels me forward. My foot catches on uneven ground, and I fall, rolling across the brittle grass. Pain shoots through my leg.
The man lunges again—but suddenly, force meets force. A hand shoves him back with lethal precision.
"What the hell are you doing?" a sharp voice snaps.
I blink through nausea and spot him. Golden hair, piercing eyes, calm authority—Adrian.
The man recoils, muttering threats, and disappears into the shadows. Adrian kneels beside me, gaze intense, controlled.
"Are you hurt? Can you stand?"
"I… I—" nausea erupts again, and I vomit, messy and humiliating.
Adrian sighs softly, more understanding than disgusted. "It's okay. Don't force yourself."
The edges of my vision darken. He catches me before I hit the ground.
"She's burning up… probably dehydrated," he mutters.
Cold, damp fabric clings to me. He hesitates only a moment before removing my soiled dress. Vulnerable and exposed, I freeze. He drapes his coat around me and lifts me effortlessly into his arms.
His assistant rushes over the moment Adrian steps into the small after-shoot party with her in his arms, panic written across his face. "Sir—what happened?!"
"Long story," Adrian replies calmly. "Where are her friends?"
"Lina just left… we thought she went home because of her health," Jake explains. "Call her."
"She isn't answering," Jake mutters.
"Alright, I'll take her to my cabin."
---
Morning comes quietly. I awaken on a bed soft enough to swallow me whole. My eyes flutter open—and freeze.
Adrian sits a few feet away, arms crossed, watching me with unnerving stillness.
"W-where am I?!" I sit up, the blanket slipping to reveal only a tank top and leggings. My hair is a messy dark halo around my flushed face.
"What happened? Stay away! Where am I? What did you do to me?!"
He sighs, calm and unshakable. "Relax. Nothing happened."
"Are you telling the truth?"
"You vomited on your dress," he says bluntly. "I removed it. Your friend wasn't there because she thought you left without telling anyone. I brought you here. That's all."
Humiliation crashes over me. "Oh god… I'm so sorry."
"No need to apologize. Are you feeling better?"
I nod quickly, snatching my frock from where it hangs on the windowsill.
"Can you go by yourself?" he asks, his voice teasing, almost mocking.
I slip into my frock, now dry, and say, "Yeah. I can. Once again… thank you, Adrian."
Once I'm fully dressed, I rush from the room, heart hammering with a mix of relief and mortification. Adrian watches me leave, a faint, knowing smile tugging at his lips, as if he anticipated the storm about to follow.
---
At school, everything seems distorted. My phone vibrates incessantly, frantic. Students stare at me, whispers crackling like electricity along the corridors.
Anyway… Mom actually believed I slept at a friend's house—thanks to Maria lying for me. But Dad… he's still angry that I was drunk. I just hope he forgives me soon.I feel like the universe has singled me out for a cosmic joke. I… I am truly the unlucky one.Yesterday,Lina got home terribly late, and her father's ensuing anger led to the confiscation of her phone, locked securely in his drawer. She fell asleep right away, completely forgetting to turn off silent mode—which is precisely why she failed to pick up any of Jake's calls.And not only that... I actually spoke to Adrian face-to-face,but in a bizarrely unconventional way that.. I couldn't even ask for an autograph. The crushing urge to weep is almost unbearable. Yet, confined by the rigid walls of the classroom, I force the rising tide of grief back down my throat, crying only in the silent, burning cavity of my chest.
"Check the news! CHECK IT NOW!" Lina's scream pierces through my ear.
I open the link. My blood runs cold.
The headline dominates every gossip site:
"Unknown Girl Spends Night With Adrian—Caught Leaving His Cabin!
Are They Secretly Dating or Is This Just a One-Night Thing?"
Two images accompany it:
1. Me, utterly vulnerable, being carried in his arms, wrapped only in a tank top and leggings, covered with his coat.
2. Me, leaving his cabin at dawn, head down, guilt personified.
"…I'm dead," I whisper. My stomach drops into a hollow void.
Back in his cabin:
Adrian stares at the same headline on his tablet. The cigarette in his hand remains still as he studies the news, golden eyes flashing with calculated intensity.
"Sir, this is going viral! What do we do?" his assistant panics.
Adrian's jaw tightens.
"First," he says, voice low and commanding, "find that girl."