Behind the Spotlight

Chapter 1

“Director Harris, listen, Isabella Fairchild is talented, committed, and—most importantly—affordable. But Margaret Linwood…” Seraphina Snow took a deep breath, forcing a smile. “Margaret might not even be available, so let’s not replace Isabella, alright?”
On the other end, Director Harris's voice was gentle but firm. “That’s not an option.”
The forced smile on Seraphina’s face faded, and she replied softly, “Alright, alright.”
With a heavy heart, she hung up the phone and turned to Isabella.
Isabella was casually perched on the sofa, slipping off her sunglasses as she regarded Seraphina with an expectant look. Seraphina's gaze darted to the script in Isabella's hands. Swallowing hard, she managed to say, “Margaret suddenly wants this role, and just like that, we’ve been switched out. The film 'Behind the Scenes' is fully cast; your debut film is canceled.”
Isabella tossed the script and her sunglasses onto the coffee table. “I understand.”
Seeing Isabella’s calm demeanor, Seraphina felt a deep stir of compassion. Despite her years in the industry, Isabella had tremendous talent and striking looks but had never found a true mentor.
Having cycled through countless dramas, all her roles were merely leftovers from others. There were countless challenges, and to stay in the public eye, she had to constantly participate in reality shows, awkwardly pairing with male co-stars, all to claw her way to visibility. At this point, Isabella had become known as “the actress desperate for on-screen chemistry.”
Seraphina walked over and picked up the script, rolling it up as if she were about to discard it.
“Don’t throw it away,” Isabella stopped her.
Seraphina's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “The way they’re treating you is outrageous. No, Mirth Entertainment is completely out of line. Damn it, when does our contract end?”
Isabella took the script back, placing it gently on the table, her eyes fixed on the pages. “It’s a great film, and it’s a real shame. Our contract has five years left; what do you want to do?”
Understanding flooded Seraphina's features as her eyes turned red.
Five years. She knew all too well that Mirth Entertainment was pouring every resource into Margaret’s projects, leaving Isabella to fend for herself; the penalties for breaking the contract were astronomical.
“I want to breach the contract.”
Isabella listened, letting out a soft laugh while squeezing Seraphina's hand. “Alright, let’s not dwell on that. We’re clearly struggling here.”
Seraphina sank into a chair, wiping her tears before grabbing her phone and scrolling through it. “All I can do is try to get you on that reality show 'Together We Love.' It’s a bit chaotic, but it airs in prime summer time. The last season helped boost a couple of actors, so there’s still a glimmer of hope.”
“Okay, I trust your judgment.”
Isabella nodded, scrolling through her phone as she came across a video of her mother sent by her caregiver. Suddenly, a financial news alert caught Seraphina's eye, and she gasped, quickly tapping to open it up.
“Isn’t that our company’s major shareholder, Edward Goodwin?”
Isabella stole a glance at the phone screen.
The image showed a sleek black sedan parked in the rain, where bodyguards held umbrellas over a tall figure bending down to enter the car; only his long, perfectly tailored black trousers and impressive stature were visible. The caption read that Edward Goodwin, a partner at Langley Investments, had just returned to the country.
Seraphina's expression darkened. “Now Margaret’s going to throw her weight around even more.”
Isabella turned her attention back to her phone, mindlessly swiping before finally putting the phone down. “Let’s get back to discussing that reality show.”
Just as she began to speak, the door to The Dressing Chamber swung open. A staff member peeked in, saw Seraphina and Isabella, and quickly put on a bright smile. “Isabella Fairchild is here. But, uh, Margaret’s dressing room is undergoing renovations, so we need to borrow yours for a couple of days.”
“No way,” Seraphina shot back instantly.
The staff member seemed to have expected that response, beaming with confidence. “The higher-ups have decided. Seraphina, check your phone. Margaret has been quite busy these past few days.”
Seraphina's face twisted with displeasure.
The staff member was sure she would have to concede. She picked up her phone, and indeed, a message stared back at her.

Chapter 2

Edward Goodwin grabbed her sunglasses and phone from the table, standing up with an imposing presence in her black trousers and shirt. She looked at Seraphina Snow and said, "Let's go."
The staff member glanced at Edward Goodwin, feeling a bit intimidated by her demeanor, and hurriedly opened the door for them.
Back at the makeup station, Seraphina Snow picked up her makeup bag, shooting a fierce glare at the staff member. Edward donned her sunglasses as she led Seraphina out the door.
Outside, Margaret Linwood, dressed in an extravagant costume, stood at the entrance with her team, arms crossed and a subtle superiority in her smile as she pointed at Edward Goodwin's direction.
Edward Goodwin stole a casual glance at her before turning away. Margaret Linwood called after them, “Looks like Isabella’s going to have to find a new makeup room for these next few days.”
Edward replied coolly, “Not a problem. Your makeup requires a more suitable setup.”
The change in Margaret Linwood's expression was noticeable.
Her manager quickly grasped Margaret's arm. Seraphina, witnessing this, allowed a grin to surface, then quickly caught up with Edward Goodwin as they rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.
Margaret turned to her manager, “Did you hear what she just said? What does she mean by that?”
The manager squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, “No need to get upset. She won't create any issues.”
Margaret’s mood lightened a bit.
Besides, she reminded herself, one shouldn't stoop to that level.
Suddenly, the manager's phone rang. She glanced at it before stepping aside to take the call. A few seconds later, she returned and whispered in Margaret’s ear, “There’s a party tonight. Are you going?”
Margaret frowned. “Who’s going to be there?”
“The investors of ‘Behind the Scenes.’”
Margaret had no idea who those investors were, but she knew that Mirth Entertainment was involved in the film. Her expression turned stony. “No way. What do they take me for, constantly inviting me to this party and that? I have plans tonight.”
The manager nodded, accepting her decision. She understood that being at the helm of Mirth Entertainment gave Margaret some leeway. Margaret picked up her phone again and declined the invitation.
*
The weather was dreary and chilly. Edward Goodwin got into the car and took off her sunglasses. Seraphina followed, shutting the door behind her, visibly upset. “So what are we going to do these next few days?”
Edward gazed out at the cloudy sky. “We’ll handle things in the car.”
Seraphina felt a knot of frustration in her stomach.
Just then, her phone rang.
She checked the caller ID—it was her boss. Her expression shifted, but she held her tongue; she needed her boss for many resources that came with the job.
“Got it,” she murmured.
“Alright.”
After hanging up, Edward glanced over. “What’s going on?”
Seraphina threw the phone down, exasperated. “There’s a party tonight, and you have to go. My boss said it’s with the investors from ‘Behind the Scenes.’ You might even have an opportunity there.”
Edward regarded Seraphina with a neutral expression.
The glance conveyed a question—Do you think so?
Seraphina felt a rush of bitterness in her throat.
Margaret Linwood was always the one snatching opportunities from Edward. How could Edward compete with Margaret? Yet, attending this party left her no choice. She instructed the driver to start the car, told her assistant to get ready, then turned to Edward. “First, let’s grab a bite to eat. You can wear what you have on today, just tidy up your hair a bit.”
Edward leaned against the window and nodded.
*
At seven in the evening, night fell.
A sleek black SUV pulled up outside The Golden Chalice Inn. Edward, tying her hair back to reveal her elegant neck, stepped out in heels and walked toward the hotel lobby. Following the host’s directions, she found herself at the upstairs Magnolia Room. The attendant checked her electronic invitation and nodded before opening the door.
Inside the spacious room was a large round table with several people already seated.
Among them was Sir Julian Bold, the president of Mirth Entertainment, who waved her over as soon as he spotted her. Edward offered a bright smile to the others before approaching him. “Sir Bold.”
“Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the chair beside him.

Chapter 3

The server pulled out a chair, and Isabella Fairchild took her seat.
Between her and Sir Julian Bold was an empty chair, the one meant for the guest of honor. After gesturing for her to sit, Sir Julian turned to engage with others at the table, leaving Isabella to observe the scene around her. It was clear that they were still waiting for someone significant, as the dishes remained undelivered.
Suddenly, the door swung open.
A tall man entered, and an instant hush fell over the room. Sir Julian immediately stood up with a smile and approached him. “Caught in traffic, I see?”
The man shrugged off his suit jacket and handed it to Robin Alden, his assistant, his voice low and deliberate, “Yeah, pretty bad out there.”
Sir Julian chuckled, “That’s Dawn City for you.”
He guided the man toward the table, and as Edward Goodwin casually adjusted his cufflinks, his piercing gaze scanned the room before landing on Isabella. In that instant, their eyes met, and she felt an impulse to look away.
But she resisted. The man everyone had been waiting for was him.
It had been over two years.
He looked more mature now.
Edward glanced her way briefly, his face expressionless as the server pulled out the chair beside Isabella for him. He settled into his seat.
The moment he did, Sir Julian leaned in to discuss business matters in hushed tones while Edward maintained a distant focus. Isabella, seated next to him, gradually shifted from feeling tense to more relaxed as she sipped her tea. A server approached to refresh her cup, replacing it with a wine glass.
Golden huangjiu was poured in, its aroma reminiscent of champagne.
Sir Julian shot Isabella a glance with an encouraging smile.
She returned his look with a small smile of her own, raised her glass towards Edward, and said, “Mr. Goodwin, here’s to you.”
Clink.
Their glasses touched lightly.
Edward regarded her, his long fingers deftly holding the glass, and nodded, “Take it easy.”
Then he took a small sip.
Isabella had initiated the toast, lifting her glass and draining it in one go. Edward set down his glass with a light chuckle, “You can hold your liquor pretty well.”
Isabella’s eyes glinted with amusement, her laughter lighting up her features.
The server filled her glass halfway again. Obeying a nod from Sir Julian, she prepared to toast Edward once more, their eyes meeting occasionally across the table.
His gaze was deep and unreadable, hinting at a past she sensed he didn’t acknowledge. As she put down her glass, a faint blush crept onto her cheeks; he hadn’t even asked for her name or called her by it.
He didn’t remember her.
Frustrated, she propped her forehead up, picking up her chopsticks to nibble on a piece of beef.
Edward’s phone buzzed on the table; he glanced at it before silencing it with a swift move. Leaning back, his fingers rested on the armrest of his chair as he listened to Sir Julian while his attention wandered to a woman nearby, adjusting her collar in the heat.
The black shirt she wore accentuated her porcelain skin—not androgynous but distinctly feminine.
Sir Julian followed Edward’s gaze and leaned closer to whisper, “Are you interested in our artist?”
Edward offered a faint smile, neither confirming nor denying, shrouding his intentions in mystery.
Sir Julian chuckled softly, “Want her contact information?”
Edward waved his hand slightly, signaling no further inquiries.
By the time the dinner wrapped up, Isabella was feeling pleasantly tipsy. As she stepped outside, Seraphina helped her into the car—a sleek, black SUV blending seamlessly into the daytime environment.
At night, it felt even more like a shadow.
Seraphina wiped her face gently with a towel. “So, did you talk about the ‘Behind the Scenes’ project?”
Isabella stared out the window, her expression blank, as they passed the hotel entrance. A black Bentley rolled up, and Edward, adjusting his shirt collar, stepped out, followed closely by Robin.
Robin opened the door for him.
Edward lowered himself into the car.
The window rolled up.
He vanished behind dark glass.
Seraphina wiped Isabella’s face again and asked, “Are you okay? Did you get too drunk?”
Isabella pulled her gaze back, her voice hoarse, “Not drunk, just didn’t discuss that project. I spent the entire time drinking with the investors.”
Not even a name was exchanged.
“Damn, did Sir Julian even introduce you?” Seraphina groused, knowing full well he would be there tonight.
“Yes,” Isabella replied.
Seraphina abruptly tossed the towel aside, grinding her teeth in frustration.
*
The black Bentley pulled away from the hotel, gliding smoothly past landscaping as it merged onto the main road, streetlights glimmering against the sleek exterior.
Edward had loosened his shirt collar, revealing a bit of skin.
He closed his eyes to rest for a moment, then spoke in a low tone, “The woman who toasted earlier seemed familiar.”
Robin glanced in the rearview mirror, replying, “She’s your wife, Isabella Fairchild.”
Edward opened his eyes, “Oh.”
The sharpness in the backseat man’s gaze intensified. After exchanging a brief look with his assistant, Robin redirected his focus to the road, maintaining calm, “You seem to have forgotten.”
Edward looked out at the landscape whizzing by, rubbing his temples softly.
“Looks like I did forget.”
Robin offered no further reply, navigating the road ahead.

Chapter 4

The assistant had long suspected that her boss, if he remembered anything, wouldn’t have acted like prey that evening.
For Edward Goodwin, whether or not he was married seemed to matter little. After all, their wedding had only been a hasty decision made out of necessity.
*
When Isabella Fairchild returned home, the effects of the alcohol were beginning to wear off. Seraphina Snow helped Isabella settle onto the couch before heading to the kitchen to whip up a hangover remedy. Isabella sat there, lost in thought.
Seraphina emerged with the hangover soup and set it on the table, waving her hand in front of Isabella’s face.
Finally snapping back to reality, Isabella said, “I’m fine. Just go home.”
Seraphina put her hands on her hips and leaned in closer, examining her. “What happened at the party? You’ve been zoning out since we left the hotel, and I remember you used to hate drinking. You used to rush to change clothes after every work event.”
Isabella chuckled softly and pushed Seraphina away. “I’ll change in a bit.”
“Alright then.”
Noticing the time, Seraphina realized it was late, and Isabella had a contract to sign the next day. Standing up straight, she insisted, “Drink the soup and get some sleep.”
“Okay.”
Isabella waved her off.
Seraphina grabbed her phone and slipped out, closing the door behind her. The moment it clicked shut, the apartment fell silent. Isabella glanced at the hangover soup on the table but didn’t rush to drink it. She got up and walked to her bedroom, crouching down beside the nightstand. She pulled open a drawer, revealing stacks of contract papers, with one red binder resting on top.
It was a little larger than her palm. She picked it up and opened it.
Inside was a photo against a vibrant red background. She and Edward wore matching white shirts, leaning together, gazing at the camera. His eyes were slightly squinted, a relaxed smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
After the picture was taken, he adjusted his collar and walked off to sign some papers. Not many people were around—just his assistant, Robin Alden, and a couple of bodyguards.
And there she was.
When she reached for the pen, his name was already penned in. Like clockwork, she took her copy, and he handed his over to his assistant, glancing back at Isabella to ask, “Did you receive the money?”
Isabella clutched her own copy tightly and nodded, “Yes, I did.”
Edward gave a satisfied nod. “Good, we’ll meet my family tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
Afterward, he had Robin Alden drive her home while he took a different car. The bodyguards left with him too. Isabella stood outside the city office, clutching her marriage certificate while glancing at the funds transferred to her phone. She looked in the direction of the car as it disappeared—he needed her to handle his grandfather's relentless pressure to marry.
And she needed his money for her mother’s treatment; each benefited from the other. It felt perfectly fair. Isabella closed the bright red marriage certificate and placed it beneath some contracts to keep it out of sight.
So, it wasn’t surprising he didn’t remember her anymore.
They were merely passing figures in each other's lives.
She returned to the living room and leaned over the coffee table to grab the hangover soup, sipping it carefully while absentmindedly scrolling through social media.
Suddenly, she stumbled upon yesterday’s whereabouts of Margaret Linwood.
In the photos of Margaret’s car entering her neighborhood, one black Bentley had the same license plate number as the one Edward owned tonight.
Isabella couldn’t help but curse her own sharp memory.
How could she remember these details?
She put down her phone and took the bowl to the kitchen, rinsing it out. As she returned, she noticed a message from Millicent Steele pop up. Taking a quick glance, it read: “I’ve been swamped lately. So tired.”
Isabella replied, “You should take a break sometimes.”
Millicent responded, “By the way, has Edward Goodwin returned home?”
Isabella replied, “Not sure.”
“Alright then.”
Isabella didn’t reply further.
Millicent had seen her marriage certificate once when she came over to unwind, leading Isabella to spill everything, and that’s how Millicent learned about the situation—especially the subtle feelings Isabella had for Edward Goodwin.

Chapter 5

In every person's life, both men and women harbor dreams of heroism. And sometimes, in our most vulnerable moments, someone like Edward Goodwin arrives like a ray of unexpected light.
The Bentley sped down the highway, its interior silent except for the gentle hum of the engine. Robin Alden stole a glance into the rearview mirror at his boss and subtly adjusted the air conditioning before refocusing on the road.
"Do you know where Isabella Fairchild is living now?" Edward Goodwin asked, his deep voice cutting through the quiet.
Robin felt a momentary surprise but quickly replied, "Let me check."
"Sure."
Without prying further, Robin slipped on his Bluetooth and dialed a number. Moments later, he disconnected, replying, "Isabella Fairchild is still at her old place."
"Make a U-turn," Edward instructed calmly.
"Got it."
Robin Alden swiftly changed direction, navigating toward the apartment complex where Isabella resided. It wasn't an upscale neighborhood—more middle-class. They parked the Bentley at the entrance.
Robin's grip on the steering wheel was steady as he breathed in the quiet anticipation.
Edward lowered the back window and lit a cigarette, the smoke curling around him like a veil, giving him an impish air. After finishing one, he said, "Pick me up tomorrow morning."
"Of course."
With a professional detachment, Robin just nodded, keeping questions at bay.
The car door swung open.
Edward stepped out, making his way into the complex. Taking the elevator up to the eighteenth floor, he arrived at apartment 1802.
He pressed the doorbell.
Inside, Isabella Fairchild had just finished her shower and was drying her hair in a satin nightgown when the doorbell rang. Setting her towel aside, she walked to the door, peering through the peephole.
To her astonishment, it was Edward Goodwin.
She paused for just a beat before flinging the door open.
Outside stood a man with his shirt partially unbuttoned, his strong features softened by the moisture in the air. As she emerged, her damp skin glistened, her face flushed from the heat of the water, droplets clinging to her collarbone.
Edward's eyes deepened with intensity as he placed a hand on her waist. "How's your mother been?"
Isabella jolted back to the present, her gaze dropping to his hand. The warmth of old memories flooded back—three years ago when she met his family. His grandfather had interrogated her thoroughly about her background, her family, her upbringing—everything except her profession. Although satisfied, she had felt overwhelmed, especially since they had already exchanged vows at that time.
Though she had returned the bracelet his grandfather gifted her, it was clear Edward had no intention of giving it back.
That night lingered in her mind. His grandfather, in high spirits, had opened a celebratory bottle. Learning about her mother's recent surgery only elevated her mood, leading to more drinking than she intended—one vodka too many.
They were assigned to the same room, where she had found herself in Edward’s embrace, intoxicated and lost. Edward had held her tenderly, twining her hair around his fingers, and eventually, under the soft moonlight streaming through the window, he pressed her down softly, murmuring, "Just a little fun."
Caught in the depths of his gaze, she had nodded almost without thinking.
And then came the whirlwind—an intoxicating mixture of passion and chaos. She had trembled against him, surrendering herself to the pleasure as he brushed her ear, his warm touch echoing the intensity of this moment.
In a way, Edward was inherently reckless.
“Is your mom doing okay?” he asked, drawing Isabella back to reality.
“She’s well. The doctor believes she can recover,” she replied, matching his intensity.
“Good,” he nodded, his fingers lingering on her waist, the implications unmistakable. Sensing the unspoken tension, Isabella bit her lip, catching a whiff of alcohol on him. “Have you been drinking?”
“Just a little.”
She stepped back, beckoning him inside. “Come in.”
As he followed her, sealing the door behind him, the faint scent of her body wash filled the air, mixing with the soft warmth of their proximity.
Isabella moved to the kitchen cabinet, retrieving a glass while leaning slightly forward. Her damp hair cascaded down her back, accentuating her delicate figure just enough to draw Edward’s gaze.

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