Behind the Glitz and Shadows

Chapter 1

A rising star with a tender heart, Evelyn Rowan, finds herself entwined with the enigmatic Lancelot Fairbairn, the youngest double-award winning actress in Hollywood. As they navigate the treacherous waters of fame and hidden love, their paths intertwine in ways that neither could have anticipated.
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At seventeen, Evelyn Rowan’s life shattered in a tragic fire that consumed her family manor, leaving her orphaned and destitute. With debts piling up and her mother facing an unexpected health crisis, she made the desperate decision to leave school and pursue a career as a low-tier idol.
With no other options, Evelyn reluctantly turned to her father's old comrade for help. When she knocked on the door, Lancelot Fairbairn answered—radiating sophistication with her striking features, fair skin, and an otherworldly grace. She was the youngest starlet in Hollywood, a double award-winning icon known for her allure and the chills of her cold elegance.
On the red carpet, as Lancelot’s gown seemed to wrinkle at her feet, a girl dashed forward to smooth it out. The media buzzed, “What a desperate attempt for attention from that no-name idol!” They mocked Evelyn as just an unknown figure hoping to bask in Lancelot’s glow, unaware of the reality that lay behind the glitz.
That night, Lancelot and Evelyn were in the Fairbairn Suite, wrapped in each other's warmth. Lancelot’s slender fingers intertwined with Evelyn’s hair as she whispered, “Darling, this hidden marriage is a burden on you.”
“I don’t mind at all,” Evelyn replied, blissfully accepting Lancelot’s chilly demeanor as part of their unique bond.
But life soon delivered a gut-wrenching blow. One night, while passing by the studio's lounge, Evelyn overheard Sister Agnes arguing with Lancelot. “Leaving you was my mistake, but marrying that little girl was revenge," Agnes hissed. Evelyn realized she was merely a pawn in a vendetta against her sister. The truth crushed her spirit.
Days passed with Evelyn in despair, prompting Lancelot to finally reach out. But Evelyn remained silent, sliding a document across the table—a divorce agreement, the cold words sealing what she felt inside.
At the gala, eyes were drawn to Lancelot, and in the crowd, Evelyn found herself with someone else, a painful reminder of what could have been. For Lancelot, standing on the red carpet, longing flickered in her eyes as she watched the girl who once filled her world with warmth slip away.
The Grand Gala of Fashion pulsed with excitement, a sea of fans braving the winter chill, their signs raised high as if to summon their goddess from the glamor of Hollywood.
“Lancelot!”
“Goddess!”
Flashes erupted like a storm, capturing Lancelot—a vision in a silver, plunging gown, with flowing curls and bold red lips. She bore the elegance of a porcelain figure, a striking presence that commanded attention not just with beauty, but an aura of regal detachment.
As others walked the red carpet, the press buzzed with gossip. The latest the headlines touted was Lancelot’s collaboration with Clara Whittaker, a rising star who had recently replaced her in the spotlight. A wave of tension rippled through the onlookers.
“Why does Clara seem so unfriendly?” one reporter remarked, noticing the icy exchange.
Unbeknownst to them, the unveiling was about more than just another film collaboration. In an earlier promotional poster, Lancelot had proudly held the center position until the premiere, where Clara unexpectedly took her place—hence the frost that now lingered between the two.
Amid the event, an unexpected face darted into view—a girl with long black hair in a modest but chic outfit, whose hands clasped the edge of Lancelot’s gown tenderly. Lancelot’s subtle nod melted the hearts of those who caught the moment—the elegance, the beauty, now immortalized in photos filling social media.
As the chaos of flashing cameras swirled around them, Clara and Lancelot's fans were quick to pounce on the incident, ripping apart the unknown girl’s presence. “Who is she? Does she work for Lancelot?” They asked, speculating wildly.
“The Sweet Serenade’s Evelyn Rowan,” one fan reported.
“Aren't they claiming she’s trying to ride on Lancelot's coattails?”
In a matter of moments, Evelyn—just a fledgling artist with only four thousand followers—was painted in a harsh light, overshadowing her meager attempts to break into the industry.
Yet beneath the critical eye of the cameras and the crowd, the tumult of emotions swirled within the hearts of two women who wished nothing more than to redefine their paths amidst an unforgiving world of fame.
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**End of Chapter**

Chapter 2

Evelyn Rowan had indeed crossed paths with the famed actress Lancelot Fairbairn.
A month prior, after recording an episode of "The Thousand Faced Actor," an enthusiastic fan had pursued Lancelot's car for an autograph, only for it to turn out to be Evelyn herself.
At that moment, Lancelot's fans intended to chase after Evelyn to criticize her, but all they could muster were insults about her lack of talent.
【What a nobody who can’t even land a role in a web series; it’s hard to know how to insult her!】
Once back inside the venue, Evelyn made her way to the corner designated for her by the organizers.
Her teammate, Seraphine Starling, spotted her and pulled her over excitedly.
“I know Lancelot is your idol, but I honestly didn’t expect you, of all people, to charge up to her like that. What were you thinking?”
Evelyn felt slightly embarrassed for making her friend worry, managing a sheepish smile. “I just felt compelled to.”
“Lancelot is someone we can only dream of meeting,” Seraphine poked her gently on the forehead, “We should keep our distance and admire her from afar.”
“Got it, I won’t do that again.”
“Just as well. With this stunt today, the Oscar winner probably hasn’t even memorized your name, yet you’re getting dragged through the mud online.”
Having debuted only six months earlier, Evelyn had already learned to cope with negative comments; they weren’t wrong: she was indeed struggling to gain traction.
She picked up her phone, took a selfie, and captioned it with a humorous expression: 【Just trying to ride the wave of attention; I also want to be close to the gorgeous big sister @Lancelot】.
That self-deprecating tweet earned her quite a bit of attention.
Of course, Lancelot was unlikely to reply to her.
Director Leif Windrider was anxiously working on a web series, facing continuous budget cuts and having trouble finding suitable actors. Suddenly, he saw Evelyn’s adorable and lively selfie, and without hesitation, he made a decision: he instructed his Assistant Maid to contact Evelyn’s agent.
Later that evening, Seraphine returned to their shared space at the Guild but found it empty; no traces of Evelyn in the dorm or rehearsal studio.
Knowing Evelyn’s background, Seraphine felt a twinge of worry and decided to call her.
“Hey, Evelyn, where are you?”
On the other end of the line, Evelyn’s voice was low, as though she were trying not to disturb anyone: “I’m not coming back tonight; I took a day off with Sister Summer.”
“You usually practice late into the night; are you taking a break from your grind today?” Seraphine teased.
“Family stuff,” Evelyn answered softly.
“Alright, just be safe, okay?” Seraphine reminded her, always concerned for Evelyn who, with her innocent and charming appearance, seemed too sheltered.
After hanging up, Evelyn gently nudged the woman resting against her shoulder.
“Lancelot, wake up.”
“Hmm.” The woman nestled closer, seeking more of Evelyn's warmth. “So soon.”
Evelyn’s cheeks flushed slightly, warmth radiating from her ears. “Lancelot, we’re home.”
Lancelot leaned her head against Evelyn, her long lashes casting soft shadows over her face, yet her clear gaze was undeniable. Though her features were sharp and defined, she exuded an aura of gentle elegance.
Evelyn found herself lost in those mesmerized eyes, her breath hitching involuntarily.
Lancelot's cool, delicate fingers brushed against Evelyn’s porcelain complexion.
“Child, do you call everyone ‘big sister’?”
Her voice was soft and melodic, yet it held a hint of admonishment.
“Not at all.” Evelyn lowered her head, heart racing as she leaned back slightly, her breath turning erratic.
Lancelot edged closer, drawing nearer.
Evelyn shut her eyes.
Their foreheads touched, noses grazing together.
Sharing breaths, they began to lose themselves.
“Your heart is racing so fast.” Lancelot rested her hand over Evelyn's heart.
Evelyn gazed into the captivating eyes just inches from her own, her mind going blank.
“Are you upset that I didn’t reply to you on Twitter?”
Evelyn shook her head. “I get it, I understand.”
They had agreed from the start to keep their relationship hidden from public view; they couldn’t let anyone know they knew each other, let alone the truth of their connection.
“Actually, I couldn’t help but rush to fix your dress earlier today, Lancelot. Please don’t be mad,” Evelyn said, clutching at the hem of Lancelot's dress, softly pleading for forgiveness.
Seeing her with those wide, earnest eyes, Lancelot couldn't help but think how charming she was—like a little fawn. It was surprising to her how long such a trivial moment had lingered in this young girl’s heart.
Gently, she reached up to caress Evelyn’s earlobe, before leaning in to press a kiss on her cheek.
When she pulled back, she found Evelyn's hands clinging tightly around her neck, refusing to let go.
A playful smile spread across Lancelot's face, her eyes clouded with a dreamy haze.
“What else do you want, little one?”
Evelyn hurriedly released her grip, whispering, “I’m not a little kid anymore.”
She was ready to handle adult matters.
Lancelot chuckled lightly, her haze dissipating. “You’re right; our Evelyn is an adult now.”
Today marked Evelyn’s eighteenth birthday and the day they officially became partners.
“I think my little friend is a bit eager,” Lancelot teased, wrapping an arm around Evelyn's waist.
Heat chased across Evelyn’s cheeks.
“This moment, the first memory between us, can’t happen here,” Lancelot said, releasing Evelyn.
Before getting out of the car, Evelyn pulled out the two red folders again, glancing at them and tracing the embossed seals before carefully placing them inside her handbag.
This was also Evelyn's first time stepping into Lancelot's estate.
Located in the heart of Havenport, the property was immensely valuable, akin to the Upper East Side of New York or Beverly Hills, surrounded by business moguls and film stars.
Strolling through the grounds, Evelyn could hear the soothing sounds of water flowing nearby; even at night, she could admire the scenic waterfall and ornamented rock gardens.
The buildings were crafted from premium granite—elegant yet understated.
“The greenery ratio here is over fifty percent, designed in the French garden style…” Lancelot said, casually linking her arm with Evelyn's as she described the surrounding area.

Chapter 3

Lancelot Fairbairn had graduated from architecture school, and when the topic came up, his eyes sparkled with enthusiasm.
Evelyn Rowan listened carefully, admiring the passion he exuded.
Lancelot lived in a spacious, airy apartment that boasted over four hundred square feet. As she stepped through the door, Evelyn was in awe of the soaring ceilings and the expansive layout that seemed to go on forever.
The decor within was understated yet unique, each corner reflecting the owner's impeccable taste.
At the entrance, she noticed eighteen neatly wrapped gifts adorned with colorful paper.
"What are these...?" Evelyn gasped in surprise.
"Unfortunately, I met you too late; these are for every birthday I couldn't spend with you," he revealed.
Evelyn was taken aback by Lancelot's thoughtfulness. Ever since her father tragically perished in a fire, she hadn't felt such care and affection from anyone.
"I think if I hadn't spent those birthdays with you, it would be seventeen gifts..." Just as she began to speak, Lancelot silenced her with a kiss.
His kiss swept Evelyn away, her back pressed against the cool wall. Clothes lay scattered across the floor. In that moment, she felt like an ice cube, the perfect companion for Lancelot's rising heat.
Suddenly shy, she pulled away and looked at him seriously. "We should shower first..."
“Are you scared?” he teased, his fingers brushing lightly over her soft lips.
In the misty warmth of the room, Evelyn sat in the bathtub, her cheeks flushed as she replayed their heated exchange, heart racing.
The door creaked open unexpectedly.
Startled, she looked up.
Lancelot had pulled the wooden hairpin from his hair, letting his long tresses cascade down his back like a waterfall.
A nude silk robe clung to her curves, the delicate straps accentuating her graceful figure.
Her porcelain skin glowed softly, a hint of blush accentuating her beauty.
The robe slipped off the floor as she stepped into the tub.
"Sister..." Evelyn gazed at Lancelot’s lips.
Those lips tasted of longing.
Lancelot's fingers were long and elegant, delicate yet captivating, making Evelyn feel both entranced and a bit pained.
Evelyn looked up at Lancelot, anticipation and shyness mingling in her heart, longing for something deeper.
"When I see you, my little friend can't help it either," Lancelot said, taking a turn in the conversation. "But not tonight."
Evelyn felt a flicker of disappointment.
"I don’t want you to get hurt," Lancelot murmured softly in her ear. "We have all the time in the world."
He gently pressed her down to sit, taking his time drying her hair, each stroke serene and tender.
Evelyn studied her delicate collarbone in the mirror, suddenly overwhelmed by the memory of her earlier vulnerability, letting out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.
Lancelot’s scent clung to her heart.
Her Sister was so fresh and graceful, exuding a cool elegance that made being near her easy.
“What’s on your mind?” Lancelot noticed Evelyn lost in thought and smiled gently.
A single, shimmering tear slipped down Evelyn's cheek.
Lancelot paused, brushing her hand softly. “What’s wrong?”
“I feel so happy.”
Evelyn’s words fluttered between sweet and surreal, like living a dream. She was afraid this moment would shatter like beautiful glass on impact.
“No one has treated me this kindly since my father's passing.”
“What a silly girl you are,” Lancelot replied.
Turning towards her, with red-rimmed eyes, Evelyn asked, “Sister, I've always wanted to know—why me?”
With so many exceptional, beautiful, and affluent individuals around, why did the affection fall on her?
Lancelot took a moment, casting her a searching look before returning her gaze.
"Do we need a reason to love someone?"
Evelyn nodded, feeling convinced.
Exhausted, they laid down together on the pristine white carpet of the living room.
As the lights gradually dimmed, the world around them turned pitch black.
Evelyn nestled in Lancelot's embrace.
Suddenly, the ceiling projected a cosmos filled with stars.
An infinite river of stars sprawled across their ceiling, the nebula swirling mesmerizingly, breathtaking them.
Evelyn felt as though they were two souls curled up together, drifting in a frozen pod through the galaxy, post-earth explosion.
"I have a sister who loves the stars too," Evelyn said quietly.

Chapter 4

Lancelot Fairbairn's body trembled slightly as he stared up at the starry sky.
“This night sky is really beautiful, but I don’t know much about it,” Evelyn Rowan said, her fingers gently twisting Lancelot’s curly hair. “If Sister Agnes were here, you two would definitely get along.”
Lancelot remained silent for a long moment before sitting up abruptly. “You should get some rest.”
“Yeah, it’s getting late.”
“I’ll take this room,” Lancelot said, pointing to a nearby door.
Evelyn fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. “It’s our first day as a married couple. Shouldn’t we sleep together?” she asked, her voice wavering slightly.
“Be good,” Lancelot said, ruffling her hair. “I don’t sleep well; I’m just not used to it.”
“Okay.” Evelyn felt a twinge of disappointment, but Lancelot's comfort and gentle smile eased her sadness.
“Choose a room, and if you need anything, call for me,” Lancelot added. “But not in that one.”
He referred to the room next to hers.
“Under no circumstances can you go in there.”
“Got it, goodnight,” Evelyn replied.
Lancelot stepped inside to rest.
Evelyn was reluctant to open the gifts she had saved for moments of sorrow. However, with the happiness she felt at this moment, perhaps she wouldn’t need to unwrap them at all.
Despite Lancelot's insistence on keeping her away from that particular room, curiosity gnawed at Evelyn.
What could possibly be in there?
Standing at the door, she carefully examined the entrance, noticing a layer of dust building on the doorknob.
This house was usually spotless, tended by servants year-round, yet this area was untouched. It seemed like a space not meant to be disturbed.
She raised her hand to touch it but hesitated, finally deciding to return to her guest room instead.
Maybe it was the excitement that kept her tossing and turning all night.
Eventually, she retrieved her phone. As soon as she opened The Town Crier app, it crashed, and after several attempts, it finally logged in. A shocking headline caught her eye.
**"Lancelot Fairbairn Spotted Late Night with Mystery Woman; Wedding Bells on the Horizon?"**
Evelyn's heart sank. Did someone capture her and Lancelot together tonight?
If it was seen, would it jeopardize Lancelot’s career? This thought gnawed at her.
Clicking through the discussion, she opened a video, quickly realizing that it was merely a clip of the cast having dinner, misrepresented as a romantic rendezvous.
In the video, the woman standing beside Lancelot, although dressed modestly with sunglasses and a hat, was easily recognized by sharp-eyed fans.
**"Isn’t that Clara Whittaker?"**
**"Lady Fairbairn is leaning on her; one must be very trustworthy to allow that."**
That’s not it; Lady Fairbairn just had a little too much to drink.
Fan accounts had already begun to rally under the banner of “Fairbairn-Whittaker” relationships. **"I told you so. Only a goddess deserves another goddess."**
**"So sweet, such an equal match, a powerful pair."**
**"Two stars, what a divine romance; I’m here for it!"**
Compilers jumped on the buzz, mixing clips for a delightful montage of the two, one exuding a cool elegance, the other a striking confidence.
Seeing those two tall women together, who wouldn't think they were a perfect match?
Being part of the industry, Evelyn recognized this as a promotional tactic for the film, perhaps even a stealthy move by Clara Whittaker's team to create buzz.
Still, a sense of melancholy settled over her, feeling overshadowed by Lancelot’s brilliance as if she was nothing more than dust beneath him, so far out of reach.
If one day she became strong enough, would she be able to stand boldly beside Lancelot?
Evelyn pulled out their marriage certificates, gazing at the photograph where Lancelot’s smile was utterly enchanting.
Being with him felt so right.
In the main bedroom, Lancelot tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
Staring at the empty pillow beside her, her gaze began to droop.
The memories from sixteen years ago became increasingly vivid.
Maybe it wasn't that she couldn't get used to someone else sleeping next to her.
A headache seeped in, and she couldn’t allow herself to think of that person.
Lancelot got up and went to the wine cabinet, pouring herself a glass of red wine.
Just as the crimson liquid was about to touch her lips, she heard a startled cry coming from Evelyn's room.
Hurrying to her friend's room, Lancelot turned on the warm, dim lamp.
As she settled onto the bed, Evelyn suddenly burrowed into her embrace like a frightened kitten.
Hearing her tiny whimpers, Lancelot gently stroked her back with her long fingers. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
“There’s a fire! It’s burning…” Evelyn murmured, trapped in a nightmare, trembling uncontrollably.
“It's okay, it’s over. It was just a dream.” Lancelot held her tight, but it wasn’t enough; Evelyn remained entwined in her restless slumber, whimpering and curling up.
“Don’t be scared, I’m here.” Lancelot softly caressed her smooth back, humming a lullaby.
Gradually, Evelyn began to settle, clutching tightly to Lancelot’s arms, falling back into a deep sleep.
As sunlight streamed into the room, warmth permeated the air.
Evelyn stirred awake abruptly, feeling the emptiness beside her. Panic tightened in her chest.
Sitting up, her back twinged painfully.
She noticed an indentation on the pillow.
Last night hadn’t been a dream.
Lancelot actually held her through the night.
“Hey, I made you breakfast; remember to eat,” read a note left on the bedside table.
The handwriting was elegant yet sharp, the thicker paper suggesting a deliberate touch.
Evelyn could picture Lancelot's long fingers, gripping the pen with precision.
Lancelot was always busy.
Evelyn headed to freshen up.
Her heart raced like that of a first-time lover.
Looking in the mirror, she noticed a delicate bloom had blossomed on her neck, strikingly vibrant against her pale skin.
After finishing up, she suddenly remembered something crucial—what should she wear?
Last night’s outfit was no longer appropriate.

Chapter 5

Evelyn Rowan tentatively stepped into the walk-in closet.
The space was breathtakingly open and luxuriously designed. Steel and colored glass harmonized seamlessly, creating a dreamy atmosphere that felt like a work of art. The garments were displayed like fine exhibits in a museum, a striking fusion of modern Chinese aesthetics and minimalist style.
Evelyn noticed that many of the outfits hanging inside were clearly meant for her, from the chic dresses to the glamorous shoes—all in her size and showcasing the latest seasonal trends. A surge of emotion washed over her; it was hard to imagine anyone treating her with more kindness than Lancelot Fairbairn did.
Sitting at the long dining table beneath the elaborate crystal chandelier that cast colorful reflections, Evelyn savored the delicious porridge Lancelot had prepared, savoring every spoonful, reluctant to finish.
Suddenly, the stillness of the house was interrupted by a ringing sound. It was not coming from Evelyn's phone.
Standing outside the master bedroom, she was certain the noise was originating from inside. She pushed the door open to find the empty room, where an old model phone lay face down on a dresser, buzzing insistently.
The ringtone felt familiar, reminiscent of a once-popular song from years ago. Hesitating, she considered answering it for Lancelot.
Just then, rapid footsteps echoed in the hallway. Evelyn turned to see Lancelot rushing in, not bothering to change out of her shoes. Upon spotting Evelyn at the bedside, her expression darkened unexpectedly.
Evelyn paused in her place, uncertainty creeping in. Lancelot’s demeanor was solemn, lacking the warmth she usually exuded.
“Did you touch my things?” Lancelot's voice carried a note of accusation and disappointment.
Evelyn bit her lip and shook her head. Tears of grievance welled in her eyes, catching her off-guard; Lancelot had never spoken so harshly to her.
The phone continued to ring, its clamor grating against her ears. With a swift movement, Lancelot snatched the phone up and strode toward the hallway, pressing the answer button even before stepping into the bathroom.
On the other end, a woman’s voice was faintly discernible, often drowning out Lancelot’s sporadic affirmations. As the bathroom door closed, Evelyn could hear nothing more.
She felt blinded in more ways than one, the ache of tears flooding down her cheeks. They blurred her vision like rain on a windshield, making the world appear distorted.
Lancelot—her partner, who lovingly called her "Little One"—had just scolded her, and the emotional weight felt suffocating.
Standing awkwardly in the room, it felt like the very air was pushing her away. But soon, she wiped her eyes dry, determined to regain her composure.
Applying an ice pack to her eyes, she worked until the redness subsided, then busied herself clearing the table, washing the dishes in the sink.
Evelyn became entranced by the sound of running water and the clinking of porcelain until she felt a pair of arms wrap around her from behind.
Lancelot tightened her embrace, resting her head against Evelyn’s shoulder. The comforting scent of her partner filled the air—an inviting blend of osmanthus after rain, elegant yet grounded, washing away all her grievances.
“Upset?” Lancelot murmured, her cheek brushing against Evelyn's.
“No,” Evelyn mumbled, continuing to scrub the dishes, her pale fingers turning red from the cold water.
Yet Lancelot recognized the telltale evidence in her soft tone.
“Look at me, Little One,” Lancelot coaxed, loosening her hold to turn Evelyn to face her.
But Evelyn kept her gaze lowered, refusing to meet her eyes.
With an amused chuckle, Lancelot teased, “Still insisting you’re not upset?”
Before Evelyn could respond, Lancelot swept her off her feet and set her atop the marble countertop.
Surprised, Evelyn instinctively clung to Lancelot's shoulders for support, leaning into her partner, wide-eyed and vulnerable.
Lancelot leaned closer, her long, cascading hair shimmering in the sunlight, eyes sparkling and captivating, drawing Evelyn in effortlessly.
As Evelyn fixed her gaze on Lancelot’s tempting cherry-red lips, flashes of their heated moments from the previous night flooded her mind.
It seemed they shared an unspoken connection, as Lancelot pressed a gentle kiss against Evelyn's lips—cool, soft, and infused with sweetness.
For a moment, time stood still. Evelyn felt her breath hitch, closing her eyes, enveloped in Lancelot’s fragrant aura, yearning for more.
“Little One, you were hurt just now,” Lancelot said softly, playing with her newlywed wife’s ear.
Evelyn nestled closer against Lancelot, her small frame seeking comfort against her partner’s warmth. “I’m fine. I understand how tired you are from your filming schedule,” she replied.
“But that’s no excuse to take it out on my wife,” Lancelot interjected seriously. “Whatever you desire, just ask. Consider it my apology.”
Evelyn tightened her grip on Lancelot, burying her head against Lancelot’s heart, listening to the steady beat and entwining her fingers in Lancelot’s soft hair.
“I want you to spend more time with me each day.”
“Okay,” Lancelot agreed.
However, before she could finish her thought, Lancelot’s phone rang again.
With an apologetic look, Lancelot glanced over at Evelyn, who nodded in understanding. It was natural for Lancelot, an international superstar in high demand, to be busy, often handling countless commercial deals behind confidentiality agreements.
Swiftly, Lancelot answered the call, hurrying out of the room.
Evelyn noted the sleek new phone Lancelot now used. Whatever happened to the old one, and who was on the other end of that call that made Lancelot so anxious?
Before she could ponder further, her phone buzzed with a call from her manager, Sister Summer.
“Evelyn, get back to the office immediately! There’s something important!” Sister Summer's voice was laced with excitement.

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