Between Stardom and Secrets

Chapter 1

“And the winner of the Best Actress award at the 28th National Film Gala is...”
The host's voice buzzed with excitement, echoing throughout the lavish awards venue. Behind him, the big screen showcased close-ups of the four nominees, each expression brimming with surprise and anticipation.
Laurel Whitmore smiled elegantly at the camera, her demeanor calm and poised, devoid of any signs of anxiety.
This wasn’t her first nomination. In just four short years since launching her career, her rise to stardom had been meteoric. Her debut film had snagged her a prestigious award, and the accolades kept coming. Now, she was a leading figure in Hollywood, known for both her stunning looks and remarkable acting talent, boasting an astonishing 80 million followers on social media.
Tension filled the air as the host grinned, announcing with exuberance, “Laurel Whitmore! Congratulations to Laurel for winning the prestigious Star Award again, three years after her last win. We’d like to thank all the mentors who supported her. Laurel, please come up here to accept your award.”
In an instant, rhythmic music blended with thunderous applause, all eyes fixed on Laurel as she made her way to the stage.
Laurel’s face brightened with surprise. She stood, embraced the two fellow nominees beside her, and humbly bowed towards the audience before gracefully ascending the steps to the podium, her black gown flowing behind her.
“Now, let’s welcome our presenters, Sebastian Harrington, President of Timeless Productions, and Miranda Harrington, Chairperson of the Film Guild, to present the award to our winner, Laurel.”
The host’s voice boomed once more, as a sharply dressed man on the left side of the stage stood, accompanied by a woman whose youthful vibrance belied her years. They walked toward the podium amid the audience's enthusiastic clapping.
Laurel’s smile radiated as she gazed at the tall, handsome man, who possessed an air of quiet intensity. His sharp features framed his piercing dark eyes that seemed to harbor unspoken thoughts. The aura around him was one of both allure and intimidation, making it clear why he commanded such respect.
This man was all too familiar to her.
Familiar enough that her memories lingered on their twinkling, music-filled nights together.
“Congratulations, Laurel. It’s well-deserved,” he said, handing her the trophy.
Coming back to reality, Laurel accepted the award and hugged Miranda tightly. “Thank you, Aunt Miranda. I’ll keep working hard.”
Miranda stepped aside, and Sebastian passed her a certificate. As she feigned an embrace with him, his warm, familiar hand landed on the small of her back, his fingers grazing her skin. She felt him lean in and whisper, “Tonight, I’m coming home.”
Laurel paused, lifting her gaze to meet his inscrutable eyes. She maintained her calm smile, replying with a gentle, “Thanks.” Inside, however, her emotions churned wildly.
He was coming home tonight. What was she supposed to do now?
Though she'd initially felt elated about winning, Sebastian's presence felt like an unwelcome cloud overshadowing her mood.
How disappointing.
After leaving the stage, Laurel approached the microphone to deliver her acceptance speech, thanking everyone, and with a deep bow, she exited the stage.
The event continued, awarding Best Actor and Best Supporting roles, and once the ceremony ended, she faced the media for interviews, effortlessly fielding questions with eloquence and poise.
Afterward, a banquet was held. As one of the star guests, Laurel walked in wearing a stunning black gown that captured everyone’s attention.
She mingled with industry veterans, toasting and exchanging pleasantries before moving among her fellow contemporary artists, her charm illuminating the room.
However, when it became apparent that her glass was being filled too often, Laurel leaned on her agent, Gwenith, for cover and slipped away to the quieter back garden.
The silver moonlight bathed the area in a peaceful glow, blending with the soft lighting that hovered around the garden.
In her high heels, Laurel meandered aimlessly until she noticed a figure under the gazebo lit by moonlight, causing her to loosen her grip on her skirt.
Hearing her approach, he turned slightly, the smoldering tip of his cigarette extinguished as he stepped closer to her.
“When did you get back?” she asked.
“Yesterday,” Sebastian replied, his gaze simultaneously cool and intense, the subtle chill that followed him whispering of unshared secrets.
“Why are you here to present an award?” she shot back, her voice steady.
“Why shouldn’t I be?” he replied, a hint of challenge lacing his tone.
She offered him a sidelong glance, managing silence.
Of course, he was more than qualified to be here as the founder of Timeless Productions, a major player in the entertainment industry. He also helmed Harrington Enterprises, a diverse conglomerate involved in everything from real estate to hospitality, tourism to finance.
His influence was undeniable; everyone knew who he was. The script for her very first film had come from him, kickstarting her rise to fame. As he had put it, that was his wedding gift to her, promising there would be no special favors afterward.
True to his word, Sebastian hadn’t offered her a single hand-up in the years since. Every role she had earned post-debut was a testament to her talent.
In the four years of their unconventional marriage, they had grown accustomed to being strangers living under one roof, meeting only a few days a month for their forced “couple time.”
To put it plainly, they led the lives of a façade marriage.
“It’s the sixteenth today; I thought we still had more time,” Laurel reminded him bluntly, recalling what he had stated on stage earlier.
“Last month’s four encounters,” Sebastian responded, producing a cigarette pack from his pocket. He lit one and exhaled slowly, forming perfect rings of smoke. “Besides, no need for urgent discussions.”
Laurel recoiled, waving the smoke from her face with a disapproving glare. “I don’t recall agreeing to any record-keeping on that.”
The next moment, she mentally cursed his stubbornness.
“It’s non-negotiable, even now,” he countered, extinguishing the cigarette again and adding, “The overseas branch is stable.”
At his words, Laurel’s expression tightened. This was decidedly unwelcome news.
Two years prior, Sebastian had relocated abroad to solidify the business, returning home only once a month, leading them to amend the existing agreement they had on their marriage.
If the overseas operations were stabilizing, it meant one thing—he would be back to stay.
“Weekly appointments were not part of the original plan," he stated coolly.
As expected, inwardly, she felt a storm brewing. Suppressed anger bubbled beneath her calm exterior. “Did I agree to this? I do not consent.”
“This is part of our pre-marital agreement. Your consent isn’t required.”
He casually shoved his hands into his pockets and glanced at the approaching guests, offering his curt reminder, “If you can’t handle your drinks, just head back early. Don’t push it.”
With that, he walked past her.
His high-handed manner only intensified her irritation, igniting a rebellious spark within her.
She resolved to fight against this and drink a few more.

Chapter 2

Even in the late summer night, the warmth lingered, and the atmosphere at The Grand Feast buzzed with excitement.
Laurel Whitmore had just returned from The Back Garden when several senior colleagues and her boss approached her, introducing the new employees from their Brand Studio with an array of flattering comments. She had to once again don her gracious smile and respond graciously to the compliments thrown her way.
By the time the banquet concluded, Laurel felt pleasantly buzzed, and with the help of Assistant Victor, she slid into the back of The Black Carriage, resting her head against the seat with closed eyes.
“Miss Whitmore, are we headed to The Golden Grove?” the driver’s assistant turned to ask.
“Yeah.”
Having given a vague response, her mind suddenly conjured up the frigid face of the man who resembled an iceberg—emotionless and unyielding—stirring up remnants of rebelliousness she thought had vanished.
Maybe it was residual anger or the drinks, but she decidedly refused to do things his way.
A few seconds later, she replied coolly, "Take me to Willowvale Manor."
The assistant paused, surprised and eager to inquire about her decision, but upon noticing Laurel’s demeanor, he decided against probing. Instead, he raised the divider and started the car, merging into the flow of traffic.
Upon arriving at Willowvale Manor, Laurel gazed up at the villa with a melancholic expression.
This house was a birthday gift from her parents when she turned eighteen, but after spending years abroad studying, tragedy struck her family—her parents died unexpectedly, and Celestial Entertainment fell into her uncle’s hands.
By the time she returned home, the once pampered heiress had transformed into a lonely, helpless girl.
Her so-called uncle wore a false face of piety and had his eyes set on the shares she held. In her time of isolation, the Harrington family came in with a marriage proposal, forcing her to acquiesce and hastily marry Sebastian Harrington, moving into their new home, The Golden Grove.
To avoid unwanted scrutiny after entering the entertainment industry—and given Sebastian's status—she agreed to a secret marriage contract.
“Welcome back, Miss Whitmore.” The housekeeper, Aunt Hazel, rushed out to greet her upon hearing the car engine, instantly lighting up when she recognized who stood at the door.
“Aunt Hazel!” Laurel snapped back to reality with a smile.
“You just got back from The Awards Hall, right?” Aunt Hazel, noticing Laurel was still in her evening gown, couldn’t help but compliment, “I watched the live broadcast tonight. Congratulations, Miss Whitmore, on winning another award!”
“Thank you.”
“Have you eaten dinner yet?” Aunt Hazel questioned eagerly, pulling her inside. “What do you want? I’ll whip something up for you.”
“Anything you make, I love it.”
Laurel felt warmth spread in her heart, the smile reaching her eyes.
Aunt Hazel had been the Whitmore family’s trusted housekeeper for as long as Laurel could remember, but when her uncle took control of Whitmore House, Aunt Hazel was let go.
Laurel couldn’t bear to lose her warmth, the kind that reminded her of her parents, so she brought her to Willowvale Manor to manage the household.
Inside the house, Aunt Hazel handed her a pair of slippers, gazing at her with love, as if she were her own daughter. “Alright, I’ll start cooking now. You go up and freshen up. You must be exhausted after today. Change into something comfortable before dinner.”
Laurel nodded and turned to Assistant Victor, “You can head back now. Drive safely.”
The assistant handed her bag back, smiling, “Sure, Miss Whitmore. Get some rest. You worked hard today.”
As Laurel climbed the stairs and entered her room, she noted how well-kept and bright the entire villa was, despite her rarely staying there. Her room was well-stocked with toiletries and clothes.
After pausing for a moment, her phone buzzed in her bag, alerting her to an almost dead battery. She pulled it out to find several missed calls and numerous WeChat messages congratulating her on her award.
Unlocking her phone, she scrolled past the congratulatory messages and noticed a particularly jarring contact at the top with a pig emoji as the profile picture.
The latest message was simple: “When are you coming back?”
With a swift motion, Laurel typed back, “Not coming back. Goodnight.” She added a cheeky, boastful meme for effect.
Just as she hit send, her phone buzzed and promptly powered off.
Laurel rolled her eyes, feeling frustrated; she wanted to see how Sebastian would react to her response.
However, exhaustion overtook her. She didn’t have the energy to seek out her charger; all she desired was to wash off her makeup, slip out of the oppressive gown, enjoy a warm shower, and indulge in some comforting rice.
After finally refreshing herself, she stepped out of the bathroom in a sleek black silk robe, it had been more than an hour since she had started.
The Dining Room wafted with delicious scents as the aroma pulled her downstairs, where she spotted a familiar figure sitting stiffly at the dining table. Dressed smartly in a black shirt with rolled sleeves, revealing toned wrists, Sebastian Harrington's piercing gaze felt colder than usual.
She stared at him in disbelief, “What are you doing here?”
Seeing her reaction, a hint of relaxation surfaced in Sebastian's expression as he adjusted his tie, swallowing hard with restrained control.
“What do you think,” he replied coolly.
Of course, he was here to collect a debt.
There was no escaping from this.
Laurel felt tongue-tied by his ambiguous demeanor and plopped down across from him, crossing her arms defiantly, her gaze frosty. “Who told you I was here?”
“Besides this place, you have nowhere else to go.”
“…”
While his remark held a hint of arrogance, it wasn't entirely untrue.
Aside from The Golden Grove, the only place she could go was Willowvale Manor. Hotels were not her preference.
Reflecting back, when she was eighteen and learned her parents planned to gift her a villa, she had initially scoffed at it. In hindsight, her parents’ choice appeared quite wise; she had been too shortsighted.
When Aunt Hazel noticed Sebastian’s presence, she hurried to cook additional dishes but sensed the tension brimming between the couple. She figured they must have been arguing, otherwise, Laurel wouldn’t have returned to Willowvale Manor suddenly.
Her heart ached for Laurel as she placed the dishes on the table.
Her son-in-law looked challenging and unyielding, showing no tenderness. If Laurel’s parents were alive, they surely wouldn’t have allowed their daughter to suffer alongside the Harrington family.
Laurel, with her free-spirited, proud nature, seemed inherently incompatible with Sebastian's demeanor.
With that thought, Aunt Hazel’s concern for Laurel deepened as she delivered the sweet and sour ribs, purposely placing them in front of Laurel. “You haven't been here in quite some time; you must try this sweet and sour ribs.”
“Thank you, Aunt Hazel. You’re the best,” Laurel replied with a warm smile, dropping her defenses against the man across from her, focusing instead on filling her stomach so she could muster the energy to argue back.
She was genuinely hungry; having spent the whole day on styling and makeup before attending the awards ceremony, she hadn’t eaten a thing apart from drinks.
After devouring two bowls of steaming white rice, Laurel finally felt rejuvenated. She wiped her mouth, glancing across at the man still eating leisurely. “I think I’ll head to bed soon. You can go back after you finish up.”
Sebastian raised an eyebrow casually, “You’re kicking me out?”
Laurel shot him a pointed look full of “What else did you expect?”
Sebastian set his chopsticks down, took a sip of water, and replied with a calm, authoritative tone wrapped in a firmness that brooked no dissent, “I’m staying, and you’re coming back with me. You choose.”

Chapter 3

The living room fell silent as Laurel Whitmore gazed at Sebastian Harrington's serious expression, and couldn't help but laugh.
Sebastian was undeniably one of the most handsome men in the elite circles of Kingston. With his noble demeanor and cold personality, coupled with rumors of his disinterest in women, he was a figure of intrigue.
Although he ran a major film production company, he had never been involved in any scandals. Even his assistant was a group of men, fueling the gossip that he might be gay, a point often overlooked by those who didn't know he was married.
But only Laurel knew the truth—that beneath that charming surface lay a heart hungry like a wolf, especially when it came to her.
Every time they shared an intimate moment, when she felt utterly spent, she wished she could silence those spreading rumors about Sebastian’s disinterest in women.
Finally breaking the silence, Laurel said, “I’m tired. I don’t feel like moving.”
This was her way of making a choice.
Sebastian glanced at her, nodded lightly, and stood up. “I’ll take a shower.”
With that, he headed upstairs.
They had been married for four years, and he had stayed over a few times, so there were sets of his clothing and toiletries on hand.
Laurel sulked for a while; after finishing another bowl of soup, she slowly climbed the stairs. After brushing her teeth, she rummaged through her drawer for her phone, plugged it in to charge, and flopped onto her bed to scroll through her social media.
The top trending topics on Weibo were all about tonight’s award ceremony, and four of them featured her name.
#Laurel Whitmore Best Actress for “Through the Storm”#
#Laurel Whitmore’s Outfit#
#Laurel Whitmore’s New Drama#
#Laurel Whitmore’s Golden Star Awards Presence#
She clicked on the trending topics, most comments were positive and complimentary, though a few harshly criticized her for being undeserving of the award, a sentiment she had already grown accustomed to tuning out.
Once she exited Weibo, she noticed so many congratulatory messages that she decided to take a few selfies without makeup and posted one captioned:
【Ding ding ding! Thank you for the blessings (kiss emoji), goodnight! ~zzz】
Just after posting, the bathroom door swung open, revealing an unexpectedly stunning sight—Sebastian emerging from the shower.
Laurel froze for a moment, raising an eyebrow as she put down her phone to feast her eyes on his muscular chest.
Hmm, suddenly she felt there was no reason to hide from this kind of view.
Regardless of his irritable nature, he was undeniably attractive, making it worth the indulgence. Her rebellious streak stemmed entirely from his authoritarian demeanor and his tendency to issue orders.
Sebastian came over, casually turned off the main light, then slipped under the silk sheets beside her.
The dim, warm light illuminated her porcelain-like skin.
Sebastian caught her gaze and saw her eyes lingering on him, her natural beauty spilling over, and her soft, full lips glinted with a gentle pink hue, inviting him to linger.
“You have a schedule tomorrow,” he murmured.
“I don’t.”
At this, Laurel paused, puzzled. She frowned, thinking, Is he planning to "stay up late"?
“When are we heading back to the Golden Grove?”
“In a couple of days. I just won an award yesterday; the paparazzi will definitely try to catch me for some gossip. It's quieter here, harder for them to find me.”
In reality, the Golden Grove was quite secluded, being a high-end villa with tight security that kept nosy photographers at bay.
While her little villa wasn’t as extravagant as the Golden Grove, it was still fairly luxurious and elegant, and more importantly, it felt like home.
A moment of silence hung in the air as she contemplated whether Sebastian really intended to stay. Suddenly, a large hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer through the thin silk of her nightgown before his lips descended upon hers, stealing her breath away.
Laurel instinctively brought her legs around his waist, feeling weak and surprised at the sudden escalation. However, just as quickly as he had kissed her, he pulled back, his dark eyes flickering with desire as they met hers.
For what felt like eternity, he settled onto his side, his arm draping casually around her shoulders.
Laurel was taken aback by his pause, sensing something was off. What’s happening here?
“Sebastian,” she attempted to speak.
“Hmm.”
“Are we not continuing?”
Another silence stretched between them. Laurel shot him a hard look—he had practically chased her here only to stop at a kiss.
Is there something wrong with him? Just not into it?
Seeing he had no intention of speaking, Laurel felt irked. She forcefully pulled away from his grasp before yanking the covers, shoving her way to the edge and putting as much distance between them as possible.
Hmph. If that's it, fine by her. She was exhausted from the day anyway and just wanted to sleep.
***
The next morning, she woke up to an empty bed, the sheets neatly tucked as if no one had ever been there.
Laurel frowned, discontent. After tossing off the covers, she headed to the bathroom to freshen up.
Downstairs, she found an elegant breakfast spread waiting for her, putting a good dent in her foul mood.
“Good morning, Miss Whitmore,” Aunt Hazel smiled as she brought out a bowl of sweet soup from the kitchen.
“Morning, Aunt Hazel,” Laurel replied, grinning slightly as she pulled out a chair. After taking a sip of soup, she casually asked, “Where’s Sebastian?”
“The master left about half an hour ago.”
Laurel nodded, a lump forming in her throat but said nothing more.
Once breakfast was over, Laurel went to the backyard to water her succulents. It felt quite hot, and after hydrating only half of them, she retreated indoors.
With some rare free time, Laurel sank into the sofa to browse her phone. Her recent WeChat post was buzzing with likes and comments, and she was glued to it until a voice message popped up from Elias Whitmore.
She frowned but clicked on it anyway, hearing the fake-sweet tones of her middle-aged uncle.
“Madam Eliza, I tried calling you yesterday and knew you were busy. Congrats on your award! I heard from Agent Gwenith that you’re off today. I initially wanted to invite you back tonight, but I’m still at Yonder Edge and won’t be back until this evening.”
“I see you have something scheduled for tomorrow afternoon but have some free time in the morning. Why not swing by the company? We have a few promising scripts, and as the Whitmore heiress and a living brand, you should get first picks. Let’s have lunch together.”
Laurel’s frown deepened. She thought for a long moment before typing back, “Understood.”
Since marrying Sebastian, Elias hadn’t shown any interest in her shares. On the contrary, he had fawned over her, sometimes even treated her more favorably than his biological daughter, Rose.
But she knew it didn’t come from a genuine place.
What he truly valued was her current celebrity status, which was profitable for the company, and, most importantly, the thirty-five percent stake she held in Celestial Entertainment, along with her connection to the Harrington family.
From his business perspective, both were critical to him.
Even if she and Sebastian were in a hidden marriage, it still brought him considerable benefits.
For instance, the new catering company he established last year now had five or six chain restaurants, which he largely owed to the Harrington family's support.
Throwing her phone aside, her mood plummeted. She instead grabbed her tablet to check out the latest fashion and accessory collections trending in the market.
She swiped through them using Sebastian's card.

Chapter 4

All the fashion brands knew her size. Every piece she desired had a representative who would deliver clothes, jewelry, and watches directly to her office, only for her assistant to take them home afterward.
After more than an hour of shopping, Laurel Whitmore had lost count of how many items she had bought, but she felt significantly lighter in spirit; even the world around her seemed brighter and more vibrant.
She rose and walked over to the kitchen, where Aunt Hazel was rummaging through the refrigerator for ingredients. “Aunt Hazel, for lunch, I’d like shrimp paste with eel, some steamed pork ribs, and asparagus. For dessert, I want milk snow frog,” she asked softly.
“Got it! We have everything in stock. Whatever you want, I’ll make it for you,” Aunt Hazel replied cheerfully.
“Thanks, Aunt Hazel.”
Meanwhile, in the corporate boardroom, Sebastian Harrington was deep in a high-level meeting when his phone rang nonstop, the message alert chiming loudly, interrupting the discussion.
All the executives stared in shock, exchanging glances of confusion, wondering if the president's phone had been hacked.
The executive presenting the data analysis was sweating bullets, afraid to breathe too loudly.
The relentless barrage of message alerts continued for a full minute before finally ceasing. Sebastian frowned, his mood darkening. He pulled out his phone to see a string of notifications about sizable transactions from his account.
If it were anyone else, they might assume their card was being fraudulently used. But Sebastian recognized immediately that this was his wife indulging in retail therapy.
In their four years of marriage, while Laurel had access to his card, she rarely used it. Even when she saw a piece of jewelry or a limited-edition handbag she adored, she would usually opt for her own card first.
This young lady was financially savvy. Not only was she a shareholder in Celestial Entertainment, benefiting from significant yearly dividends, but as a rising star in the entertainment industry, she earned quite a bit herself.
When she did use his card, it was typically a communication of frustration.
The last time it had happened was about a year ago—over some petty quarrel—when the little peacock had a temper and used his card to impulsively buy a painting that cost over a million dollars. He still saw the artwork hanging in her yoga room at Golden Grove.
He calculated it quickly; she had spent a little over three hundred thousand this time, a steep reduction compared to last time.
As his furrowed brows relaxed, his expression turned placid. He pocketed his phone and said coolly, “Continue.”
***
By afternoon, after taking a refreshing nap, Laurel woke to find a portion of her clothing haul already delivered. Her assistant had laid the items out across the table, a dazzling array of luxury.
Laurel raised her brows in delight and hurried upstairs to change into a new dress. After applying some elegant makeup, she used her new cache of fashion as a backdrop to snap several selfies.
Selecting a few favorites, she quickly uploaded them to her social media with the caption “Cloudy to Sunny.”
Before long, her fellow celebrities and socialites flooded her post with likes and playful jabs: “So jealous!”, “Oh no, you’re spending again!”, “Delete this, I’m getting the green-eyed monster!”
Indeed, earning money could be exhausting, but spending it brought such joy—especially when it was his money.
Suddenly, her phone pinged, a notification lighting up with an impassive, familiar profile picture. She paused, opening it immediately.
It was her husband liking her post.
Laurel was flabbergasted—this was the first time in four years of marriage he had liked one of her social media updates.
What did this mean? Was he signaling that he was aware she had tapped into his funds?
After pondering it for a while, she clicked into their chat log. It brought her to last night’s exchange of playful emojis. Scrolling up revealed he’d mentioned being busy at the foreign branch for the month. Her response had been a simple “Oh.”
Their communication was typically straightforward—nothing ever overly complex.
“I went shopping today and used your card,” she texted him impulsively.
Two minutes later, that stoic profile picture flickered back to life, “Okay.”
Laurel stared at the stark and emotionless response, feeling as if she was about to penetrate her phone with a glare. This man was stingy with words—would it kill him to add just one more?
Realizing her efforts were futile, she tossed her phone aside, eyeing the pile of luxury goods, her brow knitting again as her earlier elation dulled.
She couldn’t help but wonder. Had she not spent enough? Was that why his reaction seemed so indifferent?
Maybe she should go for another splurge—charge him a few more hundred thousand.
***
As evening descended, Aunt Hazel approached. “Miss, should I prepare dinner for your husband too?”
At the question, Laurel fidgeted with her nails, lifting her gaze in thought for several seconds. She decided he likely wouldn’t be home and replied casually, “No need.”
As dinner neared, just as Laurel expected, Sebastian didn’t show up, and she didn’t dwell on it.
An hour after dinner, with nothing in particular to do, she hopped onto the treadmill for a quick run when her phone rang—it was Agent Gwenith confirming the schedule for a magazine interview and cover shoot the next afternoon.
After ending the call, she checked her social media and noticed she was still trending, with two hot topics about her still at the forefront of online discussions.
After resting for approximately half an hour, she slipped into the shower. Emerging fresh and rejuvenated, she put on a face mask and went through her entire skincare routine.
By nearly eleven o'clock, just as Laurel prepared for bed, the sound of a car engine broke the evening’s stillness.
She paused momentarily, pulling the covers back and moving to the window. Peeking behind the curtain, she watched as a familiar black car rolled into the garage.
Moments later, the front door swung open, and Sebastian stepped inside.
“I thought maybe you wouldn’t come home tonight,” Laurel raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms, her tone neutral.
Sebastian turned to her, warmth flickering in his eyes as they traveled down her delicate silhouette in the fitted black robe she wore, exposing a hint of her smooth collarbone.
Swallowing hard, he averted his gaze to loosen his tie, responding with a low “Hmm” before heading into the bathroom.
Laurel was unimpressed with his predictable indifference. She returned to the bed, nested under the covers, and began playing a match-3 game on her tablet.
Sebastian reemerged about half an hour later, looking strikingly handsome with damp hair from his shower. Laurel glanced up, her game suddenly losing its appeal.
The warm steam made his chiseled features appear softer, while the black silk robe clung to his impeccably toned physique.
It was a kind of restrained seduction.
He approached her, dropping his gaze to meet hers as he reached out, fingers brushing against her chin, leaning down to kiss her softly.
This was one of those rare moments in their four years of marriage when they found genuine harmony together.
Afterward, fatigue washed over Laurel as she melted against him, lulled into a gentle sleep while wrapped in his embrace, her breathing gradually calming.

Chapter 5

The morning light spilled in gently, accompanied by a cool breeze.
Laurel Whitmore finished her morning routine and slipped into a fitted black-and-white knit short-sleeve top paired with light denim jeans that accentuated her curves. She looked polished and perfect.
As she made her way downstairs, she spotted Sebastian Harrington seated at the dining table in a black shirt with the collar slightly unbuttoned, his elegant hands deftly cutting into a sandwich.
This was a rare sight.
Usually, Laurel's mornings were filled with solitude as Sebastian often left for work before she awoke, let alone sharing breakfast together.
“You don’t have to go to the office today,” she remarked casually as she pulled out a chair, taking a sip of her milk.
“There's no meeting today; I can leave a little later,” he replied without looking up.
Laurel nodded, not pressing for more conversation. Their breakfast proceeded with an unusual mix of harmony and coldness, their previous night's warmth seemingly evaporated.
“I need to stop by Celestial Entertainment later. Could you give me a ride?” she broke the silence as they wrapped up their meal.
“Where's your assistant?” he asked, raising his gaze to meet hers with a steely look, but his tone was neutral, devoid of reluctance.
“She'll come by later; she has to head to The Golden Grove first,” Laurel gestured at a heap of items in the living room.
Sebastian followed her gaze and replied, “I have an appointment today.”
“Right, an interview and magazine shoot for the cover this afternoon,” she acknowledged.
“Then back to The Golden Grove tonight,” he added.
Laurel paused for a moment. Willowvale Manor was her secret garden, and with work piling up, frequent visits would raise suspicions and disturb Aunt Yvette unnecessarily.
“Yeah, back to The Golden Grove,” she confirmed.
“You’re considering taking on that role in *Heart of Silk*.”
Laurel looked up at him. “You want me to take it.”
This project was under Timeless Productions, and the director had posted potential leads online, with fans flooding the comments with her name. Rumors about her being cast for the show had trended just days ago.
The director had indeed reached out to her agent, Gwenith, and shared the script. Laurel had only skimmed through the first few pages and character outlines and had yet to make a decision.
“It's up to you,” Sebastian said indifferently. “From a business standpoint, casting you as the lead would be a crowd favorite and boost the ratings.”
“Well, what about from other perspectives?” Laurel asked, her eyes sparkling with intrigue.
“None,” he replied, giving her a cool side glance.
“…”
Laurel rolled her eyes, realizing she had let her guard down, feeling a flicker of hope for an actual connection with him.
“Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not planning to take that role,” she sighed, leaning back in her chair, her demeanor deflated.
It wasn't about defiance or provoking him; she just genuinely felt that the role wasn't a good fit for her.
Fans thought she matched the character based solely on her looks, portraying the glamorous femme fatale multiple times had left her fatigued with the prospect of more. Plus, the script had an abundance of intimate scenes that she wasn’t too keen on.
“Suit yourself,” Sebastian replied, turning his attention away as if the entire conversation was trivial.
Their exchange had felt distant, devoid of the intimacy usually found in long-married couples, more like a pragmatic business arrangement.
After breakfast, they headed to the garage together. Laurel settled into the passenger seat and sent a text to her assistant asking her to come and collect the “loot” for The Golden Grove.
As soon as Sebastian was in the driver's seat, Laurel took a moment to reapply her lipstick.
Once they pulled away from the driveway, the car suddenly braked hard. Startled, Laurel’s hand shook, and her lipstick smudged from the corner of her mouth to her cheek.
Staring into the mirror at her meticulously done makeup ruined by her own mistake, she fumed, “Sebastian!”
Sebastian glanced over, taking in her furious expression. Calmly, he reached into the glove compartment, pulled out a wet wipe, and offered it to her. “There was a cat in the road; you might want to clean that up.”
“…”
If it weren’t for the consequences of betrayal, she thought, he'd have a jungle growing over his grave by now.
Fine, she’d hold it in.
Angrily, she accepted the wet wipe. Even with careful dabbing, her makeup was done for. Her only defense was a compact pressed powder she retrieved from her purse.
Afterward, the drive remained steady and uneventful.
The back entrance of Celestial Entertainment was connected to a massive underground parking lot, off a street block away from the main entrance. Now, with no way to be seen, they could slip in unnoticed.
Laurel donned a mask, baseball cap, and sunglasses; the moment the car stopped, she jumped out and headed towards the elevator without a word, not sparing a glance back.
Sebastian watched her retreating figure half-shrouded in shadows, his eyes flickering momentarily before regaining their usual cold depth as he drove toward Harrington Holdings.
The elevator doors opened to the first floor, where three individuals loitered—Mireille Beaumont, one of Celestial's rising stars, her manager Tina Vasquez, and an assistant.
Perhaps due to her clandestine disguise, they did not recognize her.
Laurel preferred blending in; she sidestepped to avoid drawing attention.
Mireille and her entourage exchanged glances, puzzled that someone was so covered up, as if they were a bigger deal than they really were—Mireille certainly didn’t go to such lengths.
Not to mention that they were in the office, quite incognizant of any pesky paparazzi.
Mireille, having a chip on her shoulder due to not being first choice for certain roles, noticed Laurel and seized the opportunity to vent her frustration.
“Hey, don't you recognize me? Don’t you know how to greet?” arms crossed, she demanded arrogantly.
Laurel frowned, wondering what was wrong with her.
“Snow, knock it off. Laurel's return is a big deal. Let’s not have this escalate to the wrong ears,” Tina interjected with a tug at Mireille.
“Really? I’m just showing the new girl some etiquette. She's not going to complain about me instructing her, right? Isn’t it customary for someone with experience to say hi?” Mireille challenged, a defiant tone woven in.
Laurel let out a scoff.
Did she really think she’d mistaken herself for a newcomer? She hadn’t even put that much effort into her disguise!
Or was it that Mireille had trouble seeing?
“What’s so funny?” The anger in Mireille’s voice only escalated when she heard Laurel’s chuckle.
Laurel, amused, pulled down her mask and sunglasses, revealing a calm demeanor paired with a subtle smirk. “It seems Miss Beaumont has some strong feelings about me.”
Upon realizing who she was speaking to, Mireille’s previously brash expression morphed into terror, eyes wide as saucers.
Tina, startled, quickly tried to salvage the situation. “No, no! She didn’t mean it like that. What she really meant was…”
“I’m always open to feedback. If you have grievances, please draft a formal complaint to the executive office,” Laurel interrupted, sending a piercing glance at the now-flustered Mireille. “This is your floor. Get off.”

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