Chapter 1
**Title: Top-Tier Star** **Author: Beiqing** Eleanor Bright had a unique take on the world of entertainment: to her, it was nothing more than a playground to toy with at her leisure. Meanwhile, Edmund Blackwood defined that very same world through a different lens, solely focused on whether Eleanor would choose to play or retreat from its whims. Edmund was the sovereign of this domain, and Eleanor, the enchanting temptress, a siren of unparalleled allure. Night after night, she drew him deeper into the intoxication of their shared indulgences. With a masterful grip on the rise and fall of fame, he could lead anyone to stardom overnight. Six years may have slipped away like a breeze, yet Eleanor had emerged as a luminary, outshining all competitors. He could flip the script with the ease of a magician, but even a man as astute as he found himself ensnared by her irresistible charm. --- In the bustling heart of Aldenburg, at Blackwood Enterprises, the air buzzed with the relentless pace of the entertainment industry. Reporters swarmed, their cameras flashing like lightning, eager to capture the next great story in the ever-evolving tale of stardom. Inside the sleek, modern office adorned with bold artwork and plush furnishings, Edmund sat with a scowl. Today, he faced an unusual dilemma: the scandal surrounding Eleanor had taken on a life of its own. Brilliant yet reckless, her every move was scrutinized, and the stakes had never been higher. “Edmund,” a voice interrupted his thoughts. It was Mira Fairchild, his steadfast publicist and the linchpin of his public image. “We need to address the rumors about Eleanor and Victor Somerset. The media is going wild.” Edmund leaned back in his chair, his demeanor cool as ice. “Let them speculate. Eleanor is my top-tier star; we’ll ride this wave until it breaks.” Mira gave a slight nod, knowing well that Edmund’s loyalty to Eleanor was both a strength and a vulnerability. “Just remember, the tabloids love chaos. We need a counter-narrative—something that puts her back in control.” Before Edmund could respond, his phone buzzed. It was a message from George, his trusted confidante. “You need to see this. Eleanor’s trending on social media. Fans are rallying; they want her back in the spotlight.” A smirk crept onto Edmund's lips. “Then let’s give them a show.” Meanwhile, at Bright Manor, Eleanor stood before her full-length mirror, the weight of expectation pressing down on her. The glitz and glam of her lifestyle offered little comfort amidst swirling rumors of her entanglement with Victor. As she touched up her makeup, she felt the churning emotions within: excitement intertwined with vulnerability. “Annie, how do I look?” Her assistant, Selena Prescott, entered, clipboard in hand. Eleanor turned to face her, confident yet unsure. “Does it matter?” Selena smiled encouragingly. “You’re not just a pretty face, Eleanor. You’re a force of nature. Just remember who you are.” Eleanor’s heart raced. She had fought tooth and nail to be recognized as more than a pretty face, but the path to maintaining her throne was littered with pitfalls. Still, the thought of facing Edmund, of reclaiming her narrative, invigorated her. Later that evening, as twilight descended, Aldenburg alive with neon lights and vibrant chatter, Eleanor met Edmund at the Seaside Inn. The allure of the venue couldn't overshadow the tension thickening the air. “Care for a drink?” Edmund’s eyes sparkled with cunning as he poured them both glasses of high-end whiskey. Eleanor grasped her glass, a small smile playing on her lips. “Let’s talk strategy.” “Strategy? Or are you here to flounder in self-pity?” he countered, raising an eyebrow. “I refuse to be a victim of the narrative,” she retorted, her fiery spirit igniting. “I own my story, and I will forge my destiny.” Edmund leaned closer, intrigue flickering in his gaze. “That’s the spirit I admire. Together, we can turn this chaos into opportunity.” Eleanor’s heart swelled as she realized the bond between them was far deeper than that of an artist and her protector. It was a partnership, a dance of power and vulnerability. In the madness of fame, they were the dynamic duo rising within the chaos of the industry. As the city thrummed with life outside, they made a pact, not just for survival but for something greater—a shared journey through the wild and unpredictable landscape of stardom.
Chapter 2
After a long flight, the plane descended through the clouds and touched down on the runway of The Great Port. Amidst the cacophony of noise, Eleanor Bright removed her eye mask and opened her chic compact mirror, revealing her intricately made-up face. Despite the fatigue of the long journey, there was not a hint of exhaustion on her face. She radiated an invigorating energy, embodying the saying that good fortune brings out the best in people. After one final inspection of her reflection, Eleanor closed the compact with a slight smile, her lips curving up in anticipation of a triumphant return. “Eleanor, are you ready?” A soft voice interrupted her thoughts. She lifted her gaze to see a face drastically different from the one speaking. With a quick flick of her hair, Eleanor nodded confidently, “Of course.” Yet, in that brief moment, she missed the flicker of anxiety that passed across his face. Initially planning to make her entrance through the standard arrivals area, the sight of the crowd waiting for her made her opt instead for the VIP exit, skirting the chaos outside. A sleek car from The Guild was waiting for her as she emerged, and as soon as she stepped inside, she was bombarded with a chorus of congratulations. She smiled and graciously thanked them, a glimmer of joy sparking in her eyes. After six years in the industry, Eleanor Bright had become a global sensation, dominating both film and television. Her name was one of the hottest search terms around the world, and she was on a winning streak, collecting awards predominantly among Asian audiences, basking in both fame and fortune. By the time they reached the press conference venue, it was crawling with reporters. As she entered the room, the flash of a thousand cameras nearly blinded the nearby crew. Eleanor was pleased with the spectacle, anticipating the questions that would come her way; she stepped forward, displaying her flawless smile as she waited for the media to speak. So when a familiar voice rang out from Channel C, laced with an unexpected glint of intrigue, she was caught off guard. “Eleanor Bright, how do you feel about Edmund Blackwood, the president of the Blackwood Consortium, and his impending marriage to Mira Fairchild, heiress of the Fairweather Group?” This news had escaped her until that very moment, catching her entirely by surprise. It felt like she had been struck by something heavy, a dull ache flooding her mind, leaving her momentarily paralyzed, struggling to form coherent thoughts. For an instant, her gaze flickered with confusion, but years spent honing her skills in the entertainment industry kicked in, guiding her instincts. She wrestled down the tide of panic rising within her and gracefully lifted her lips into a warm smile, “Of course, I wish them all the best.” Rumors about Eleanor and Edmund had circulated for quite some time now. The suddenness of the question, however, caught her off guard, as she displayed no hint of disappointment, which amused and disappointed the reporters in equal measure. Since her debut, Eleanor had rarely been linked romantically to anyone aside from Edmund Blackwood. Yet, their relationship seemed to have remained strictly platonic, albeit with an air of ambiguity that left the press with little to grasp onto—intuitive yet unsupported by evidence.
Chapter 3
At that moment, a persistent reporter pressed on, "Are you being sincere? There are whispers that you are actually Blackwood, the president of the Edmund Group." Eleanor Bright let out a cold laugh. "Isn't it obvious? If I, Eleanor Bright, wanted something, there’s nothing I can't have. Edmund Blackwood and I are just good friends—nothing more." Her demeanor was confident and poised, leaving no room for speculation. Especially when she was trying to mask her true feelings, no one could resist the aura she exuded, let alone decipher the fog of confusion veiling her thoughts. The camera focused in on her triumphant face, still smiling, with her full lips arched perfectly. The brief moment of vulnerability had vanished from her bright, summer-flower-like eyes. Even now, with reporters increasingly throwing outrageous theories and questions at her, it didn’t stir even a ripple of concern within her. Only when the relentless questioning began to wear her down did she steel her lips and calmly say, "Could you please shift your focus from irrelevant people and matters to the purpose of today’s press conference? I have no comment on these questions." Once the press conference concluded, she sank into the comfortable backseat of her car, the mask slipping off her face. "You okay?" George of Lancaster asked, thoughtfully offering her a bottle of mineral water. She accepted it, the cool sensation traveling from her fingertips to her brain, making her shudder momentarily. Edmund Blackwood had always favored mineral water; he never touched other drinks. Over time, she had grown accustomed to it, and the car's little fridge was filled with sparkling water. Seeing Eleanor Bright with her head down and silent, George of Lancaster could no longer hold back and raised his voice slightly, "Bright, are you all right?" At his words, she lifted her head. "What could possibly be wrong with me?" she retorted. George of Lancaster relaxed a little upon seeing her face was pale but still clear in thought. "Let’s get you home to rest, then." Thinking about who she might run into at home, Eleanor Bright shook her head. "No, just take me straight to the set." George hesitated for a moment. "But there’s your celebration party tonight. Are you sure you don’t need to rest?" Eleanor Bright was growing increasingly annoyed by his insistence. With a sigh, she met his gaze and said slowly, "Are you telling me you'd have to inform me at the first possible moment about such matters?" After saying that, she felt her tone had been too harsh and raised a hand to press lightly against her forehead. "I’m sorry." She had always believed that a man like Edmund Blackwood would never consider marriage; even if he did, she would be the first to know. Yet, unexpectedly, the whole world seemed to know, while she found out through others and was forced to congratulate him indirectly. Mira Fairchild. She had heard of her, though. When she arrived at the set, the sky had dimmed slightly, and a light drizzle began to fall. When the crew members saw Eleanor Bright stepping out of the van, they were shocked. Squire quickly rushed over with an umbrella. "Bright, what are you doing here? There’s a celebration party tonight—why aren’t you taking a break?" George of Lancaster stood by, looking exasperated. He finally addressed Eleanor, "Let her stay here for a while, Squire. Bright will return to the troupe tomorrow; let her refresh her memory with the script."
Chapter 4
Squire witnessed the agent’s remarks and had no objections. “Alright, Eleanor, you can take a break for now. Just call me if you need anything,” he said. Eleanor Bright nodded, reaching for the script that lay on the nearby shelf. Yet, she found no interest in reading it. Edmund Blackwood knew she had returned today, but so far, he hadn’t called. She checked her phone and realized it was completely dead. Outside, rain drummed softly against the pavement. Despite being the celebrated Best Actress, Eleanor felt no thrill in her homecoming. Instead, a tempest of emotions churned within her, making her head pound. Just then, the door swung open, revealing a young woman, likely in her twenties, holding a prop. She stood frozen in surprise, clearly startled to have barged into the wrong room. Seeing Eleanor disturbed by the intrusion, George of Lancaster cursed under his breath, rising to shoo the girl away. Eleanor glanced at the young woman and smiled gently, “It’s alright, George.” Her soft voice instantly quelled the agitated man, who returned to his seat quietly. “Sorry, I think I’m in the wrong place,” the girl blurted in a flustered apology. As she turned to leave, she collided with Victor Somerset, who was just about to enter, and she hurriedly retreated, flustered. Victor frowned in annoyance. “Who’s bringing all these newbies in here? They’re so careless.” Eleanor brushed off his concern, “Everyone makes mistakes.” “Hmm,” Victor huffed indifferently, a hint of arrogance lacing his words. “You don’t seem to mind, though.” “It’s not like it interrupted anything important for me. Why should I?” She shot back. Victor Somerset was a rising star, fresh onto the scene with a slew of projects. His paychecks ballooned, quickly elevating him to A-list status, matching Eleanor’s own renown. Rumor had it that the Fairweather family was well-off, though the extent of their wealth remained a mystery. With good looks and undeniable talent, landing an award was only a matter of time. However, his temperament was less than pleasant—brash and self-important. Noticing Eleanor’s apparent moodiness, Victor, recalling something he had seen earlier in the lounge, positioned himself casually beside her. “Edmund Blackwood is getting married…and it’s not to you. I wonder how you feel about that, Eleanor?” Eleanor lowered her eyelids, flipping through the script without looking up. “I wonder what Mr. Mira thinks about switching out models every two days.” George, lounging on the sofa as if invisible, burst out laughing. “Haha, I’ll go get Eleanor some water. You two keep chatting.” Victor merely chuckled as he settled into a chair beside her. “Congratulations, Best Actress.” Eleanor blinked, surprised. The script slipped from her fingers, snagging against her skin and drawing a fine line of blood. She coolly reached for a napkin to dab at the tiny wound. “Thank you,” she murmured, her tone lacking any genuine excitement. The rain intensified outside. Eleanor opened her umbrella, stepping out of the car. The cold wind hit her face as she emerged. She kept the celebration modest, inviting only a few close friends from the industry. Unbeknownst to her, word had spread, and a circle of reporters had gathered, cameras at the ready. Turning back to see George of Lancaster wearing a bewildered expression, she found her own feelings mirrored in his visage. As she stepped further inside, she was caught off guard when the reporters' interest shifted away from her. Their focus was on a man stepping out of a sleek vehicle—a clear headliner. Edmund Blackwood exited in a sharply tailored suit, his deep-set jaw enhancing his stern expression. Standing beside him with a radiant smile, her hand intertwined with his, was none other than Mira Fairchild. As Eleanor squinted, an unfamiliar surge of competitiveness welled up within her. Spying Victor Somerset's car pulling up, Eleanor took an abrupt turn, making her way toward him without any pretense. The crowd watched in anticipation, lenses focusing on the two figures, bright flashes illuminating the dimming light. Eleanor had long grown accustomed to life in the limelight, maintaining a perfect smile as she walked closer to Edmund Blackwood. George followed closely behind her, drenched in sweat, unsure of what this new move entailed. But just as everyone thought they would witness a dramatic confrontation, Eleanor remained entirely cool, not sparing Edmund a single glance as she breezed past him to approach Victor Somerset.
Chapter 5
**Chapter: The Intrigue Unfolds** Surprises are called surprises for a reason — they're the unexpected occurrences that catch us off guard, shocking us to our core, leaving little room for denial. In a moment everyone anticipated Eleanor Bright would either confront Edmund Blackwood directly, offer him a congratulatory smile, or perhaps even deliver a chilling ultimatum to his fiancée, there came a startling twist. Instead, this bold woman disregarded Edmund entirely and walked straight towards her on-screen love interest, the “villain” of the show. Although reality had clearly shocked the crowd, it didn’t go unnoticed by the sharp-eyed journalists present, who immediately sensed the tension brewing. Victor Somerset took a moment to process the scene, only snapping back to reality when Eleanor Bright pinched him hard at the waist. Quickly, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, shielding her from the eager reporters and hissed through clenched teeth, “Do you think you could give me a heads-up next time before you do something this reckless?” Eleanor raised her gaze to meet his, a knowing smile plastered on her face. "I always thought you were best at thinking on your feet." While the two managed to steal the spotlight, Edmund Blackwood turned to see Eleanor leaning against Victor, brimming with confidence in that little cocktail dress of hers. He arched an eyebrow, the dark intensity in his eyes momentarily flickering. Clearly, his piercing gaze had an effect, as Eleanor felt a chill run through her at the icy demeanor directed her way. Yet, in the face of such blatant provocation, she remained unfazed, lifting the corners of her mouth to feign surprise. "Oh, Edmund! When did you arrive? I didn’t notice at all!" Edmund’s cool blue eyes flicked toward Victor. “Eleanor's world seems to revolve around Mr. Fairchild these days, so naturally, she’d overlook the presence of others.” While Eleanor couldn't decipher his mood, her instincts urged caution. Unfortunately, her thoughts raced faster than her rationality. Just as she prepared to counter his taunt, she caught a glimpse of him grinning down at the woman in his arms, and her retort took a sharp turn. “Edmund does like to joke. Meanwhile, back when I had feelings for you, I didn’t see you so keen on paying attention.” Those words rendered the reporters momentarily speechless. They were ready to hastily scribble down notes but were struck dumb by Eleanor’s fearless presence, which hinted at a brewing storm. Eleanor, satisfied with the sudden tension she had stirred, let out a faint scoff, casting a sideways glance at the aristocratic lady beside her. With a determined stride, she continued alongside Victor deeper into the venue, leaving behind an air of charged anticipation. Standing tall with a poised posture, Eleanor wore an air of nonchalance, though internally her feelings churned. It was evident, she would eventually have her day of reckoning with Edmund Blackwood. Perhaps the rumors about her and Edmund were more than just whispers; they appeared to hold an undeniable truth. After all, who else would dare to challenge Edmund Blackwood in such an audacious manner? After all, who was Edmund Blackwood? His grandfather was a noted general, and his father held a significant position in the government. Young and formidable, he had risen to the rank of major general in the army before a mishap during a covert operation forced him into early retirement. Now he had tossed aside politics for the world of business, where his influence echoed just as loud.
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