Behind the Glamour and Lies

Chapter 1

Alaric Fletcher was the golden boy of Hollywood—young, talented, and armed with a string of heavyweight acting awards that made the critics sing his praises. He was the kind of star whose every move sent ripples through the media, creating headlines that buzzed like bees in summer.

Then there was Eleanor Ellis, a chart-topping singer-songwriter with a knack for crafting melodies that stuck in your head. Her voice could soar to heights that brought audiences to tears, earning her a slew of music awards that seemed to pile up like autumn leaves.

They were thrown together in a whirlwind of publicity—a corporate marriage designed to boost their profiles and seal their status as the perfect celebrity couple. But beneath the glitzy surface, the truth was a different story. For Eleanor, what had started as a business arrangement had been laced with unspoken feelings. She had harbored a crush on Alaric since day one, but she wore her heart under layers of professionalism, convinced that he saw her merely as a partner in this glittering charade.

Alaric, too, had his blind spots. He assumed Eleanor was as indifferent about their marriage as he was—after all, his calendar overflowed with film shoots and high-profile events. Even when they shared the same roof, weeks could go by without a meaningful conversation. To him, their relationship was like an expensive watch that looked good but didn’t tick.

Three years in, reality hit Eleanor like a freight train. The loneliness crept in, and the fairy tale turned more like a ghost story. After countless nights spent in a quiet house filled with echoes of what could have been, she finally made the decision that felt both liberating and heavy. “I want a divorce,” she said, her voice steady, albeit soaked in disappointment.

Alaric, however, wasn't ready to let go. “You say marriage works for you. Fine. But divorce? That’s a different ball game, and I’m not playing.” His rejection struck Eleanor hard. She was prepared for a fight, but this was like hitting a wall of stubbornness with a hammer made of glass.

Weeks turned into months. Alaric went about life, his usual bravado masking the creeping realization that something was terribly wrong. He started to see the cracks in their facade—the space Eleanor occupied was not just physical but emotional, and for the first time, he felt a twinge of regret. Could it be that he was losing someone who had quietly slotted herself into his heart?

As thoughts of Eleanor surfaced in the early hours of the morning, he began to piece things together. Her laughter, her warmth, how she always made dumplings just the way he liked on his brief days off. He had taken the small moments for granted, and as his heart finally caught up to his brain, he realized it was time for a change.

Thus began Alaric’s late-blooming pursuit—a whirlwind of apologies and second chances, all dressed up with offers of weekends spent wading through their shared movie collection and late-night pizza runs that turned into deeply meaningful conversations.

Eleanor stood firm initially, unsure whether to welcome the sudden flood of affection that felt both desperate and genuine. She watched Alaric, her heart clenched with a mixture of hope and disbelief. But there was a part of her that had longed for this moment—a touch of sweetness in the swirl of bitterness that had colored their love story.

As days morphed into weeks, under the glow of streetlights and the hum of city life, they began to stitch their hearts back together, thread by delicate thread. What started as a contractual obligation had slowly evolved into something like love, something genuine, ready to flourish in the open, free of the shadows that had kept them apart.

For Alaric and Eleanor, the path ahead was unpredictable, but this time, it was theirs to walk together—an adventure steeped in second chances and the exhilarating freedom to admit, finally, that they were made for more than just a business partnership.

And amid the chaos of fame, fortune, and fiery emotions, they found their way back to each other, ready to embrace the love they had almost lost.

Chapter 2

The sky was a deep, endless blue, stretching out in all directions like a vast ocean of tranquility.

As September rolled into its final days, the sun offered warmth without aggression, bathing everything in a buttery, mellow glow. There was a crispness in the air, a hint of autumn that felt both proud and a touch melancholic.

At Seabrook Inn, the perfectly manicured lawn was alive with the vibrant chaos of a wedding. An archway of fresh blooms stood gracefully at the front, framed by a scattering of white balloons that floated like soft whispers of purity. The ceremonial stage was adorned with luxurious white fabric draped alongside light lavender satin, their hues woven together under a ceiling sparkled with countless crystalline stars cascading towards the ground. In the day's embrace, they caught the light, throwing shimmering patterns across the grass.

Flowers spilled over the stand and surrounded it in a riot of color, cascading in waves, creating a winding cobblestone path that gracefully led the way. The scene felt like an enchanting garden pulled straight from a storybook. The air was sweet with the scent of blossoms, subtle yet invigorating.

As a gentle breeze stirred, it lifted the flowing curtains, reminiscent of a princess's gown in a fairy tale, evoking a romantic haze that wrapped around the guests.

The music began, filling the air with purpose, as Alaric Fletcher and Eleanor Ellis advanced hand in hand down the path, dressed in matching suits—his black, hers white. The guests erupted in enthusiastic applause, snapping photos as the couple made their way toward the altar.

When they reached the front, the officiant's rich voice cut through the sound of celebration. “Eleanor, do you take Alaric to be your husband, to cherish and love throughout your lives together?”

With a voice woven with warmth, Eleanor responded, “Yes, I do.”

The officiant turned to Alaric next. “And Alaric, do you take Eleanor to be your wife, promising to love her dearly for all the days of your life?”

Eleanor beamed as she waited for Alaric’s reply, but what came next sent a chill down her spine: “No, I don't.”

Jolted awake, Eleanor's heart raced, pulse pounding in her ears. The familiar contours of her bedroom came into focus, the soft edges of the ceiling and the plush curtains restoring her to reality—it had all been a dream.

She rolled over and grabbed her alarm clock, noticing it was just past six, thirty minutes ahead of her usual wake-up time. The dawn light filtered through the high-quality blackout curtains, but it was still unclear how bright it truly was outside.

Set her clock back down, Eleanor’s heartbeat gradually steadied. The vividness of the dream lingered, but at least it was just a figment of her imagination…

After lying there a moment longer, she finally got up to wash her face before heading downstairs to make breakfast.

Since their wedding, she and Alaric had settled into Willow Manor, a charming three-story home that stood alone, but wasn't particularly large. The first floor housed the living room and kitchen, Alaric occupied the second, while she had claimed the cozy top floor. Their marriage was more of a casual arrangement; they lived like roommates, with Eleanor in charge of the property. As her sister had put it, “It’s only comforting to own your space—the moment you need to kick him out, you'll have the upper hand.”

As she descended to the first floor, Eleanor glanced toward the second. All three room doors were shut; Alaric was clearly still asleep. She knew better than to disturb him—aside from the stairs, she had no right to invade his space, just as he never intruded on hers.

The kitchen counter was spotless as she poured herself a cup of honey-infused water. Afterward, she rummaged through the fridge for ingredients to whip up breakfast.

Eleanor’s cooking skills were average at best. She could manage a few simple dishes, but anything complicated was beyond her. Lucky for her, she didn’t have to stress about lunch and dinner, thanks to Margaret Blake who handled those meals.

The eggs sizzled in the pan, popping with small bursts of oil—a comforting sound that defined breakfast. German sausages were sizzling beside them, their skins turning a perfect golden brown, releasing a mouthwatering aroma.

With a chime, the toaster let her know it had finished; the warm bread beckoned, and the rich scent of brewing coffee filled the air, waking up the entire morning with comfort and routine.

Eleanor wasn’t sure if Alaric would join her for breakfast, but she plated a portion for him anyway, just in case, and set it across the table. Then she turned to enjoy her own breakfast while scrolling through the news on her phone.

She had a busy day ahead, with an event to attend soon after breakfast. Despite waking up a bit early, time was still slipping away.

Eleanor was a singer, a creative talent who poured her soul into her music. At twenty-five, his youthful visage already gave him a marketable edge. Coupled with an exceptional voice and the ability to write, compose, and arrange, he had burst into the music scene five years ago. His debut album clinched Best New Artist and Best Album awards, not to mention the accolade of Best Male Artist, skyrocketing his popularity to the forefront. His follow-up album and three singles were also hits, earning him the title of a leading figure in contemporary pop and the affectionate nickname “Little Song King” from the media.

Yet, in the shadow of Alaric, the true star of the entertainment world, Eleanor felt dwarfed. Alaric was the real deal—a veteran actor who’d been in the game since he was sixteen. By eighteen, he had landed his first leading role and won an international award that cemented his status. He was a force to be reckoned with, a titan in their shared industry.

Eleanor pushed the thoughts aside as she savored her breakfast, ready to face another day in the spotlight, hoping that her dreams, even if they were jarring, wouldn’t interfere with the reality she was determined to build.

Chapter 3

Alaric Fletcher was the kind of actor whose talent was lauded as textbook-worthy. Every film he starred in was a box office hit, and the awards he collected could fill a small room. He was the darling of directors, the kind of star everyone wanted but knew could be hard to pin down.

Eleanor Ellis had been enamored with him since she was seventeen—an infatuation that had only deepened with the years.

The entertainment news was always the same, a loop of relationships being born and broken, feuds igniting among the fantastically famous. One day it was announcement after announcement—“Someone is dating!” “Someone is breaking up!” “True BFFs!” “Drama unfolds!” Eleanor only skimmed through it to pass the time; truth be told, Alaric rarely made headlines these days. The last time he was front-page news was three years ago when he had tied the knot with Alaric Fletcher. That, however, had been a wake-up call for many, as Alaric himself was near-unstoppable in the tabloid world, his fans fierce enough to knock anyone off their pedestal.

As Eleanor swiped through her tablet, Alaric descended the staircase. He appeared effortlessly disheveled, clad in sleepwear that seemed to suggest either a freshly awoken state or one long into the night.

“Good morning,” she said, setting her tablet down with a hint of urgency in her voice. “I made breakfast. Want some?”

He glanced at her, his long strides taking him toward the table. He inspected the spread, then looked back at her, a soft “heh” escaping his lips—a laugh with no words attached. Without saying anything further, he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and retreated upstairs.

Eleanor felt her cheeks flush at the sound. What had warranted that amusement? Had she accidentally dropped a hair into the mix, or was her seasoning off?

Walking to where Alaric had stood, she peered at her culinary arrangement—everything looked fine. But then she noticed.

In the white ceramic dish lay two perfectly fried eggs, golden and mirror-like, resting beside a sausage cut into what could easily be interpreted as a—she gulped—an inappropriate shape. God. Thank goodness she had fried the eggs; if she had boiled them, it would’ve been borderline embarrassing.

With a swift flick of her knife, she sliced the sausage in half, thinking, That should make it more… innocent. But as she glanced again, she realized a twist of ketchup would make it that much worse.

What if Alaric saw this and took it the wrong way? She quickly transferred the sausage to a different plate, pairing it with two perfectly toasted slices of bread. Much better.

But even after she finished her breakfast, Alaric still hadn’t come down.

She was rinsing her plate when Amelia King entered.

Amelia was her manager, thirty and striking, with porcelain skin and a confidence that filled the room. The way she handled business was direct and no-nonsense. Most of the time, her no-nonsense approach synced well with Eleanor's more whimsical nature, yet Amelia had her reservations—especially regarding Eleanor’s unyielding infatuation with Alaric.

“You’re up early,” Amelia said with a quick glance at the table, her expression betraying a hint of irritation.

“Just getting ready,” Eleanor replied, shrugging. “I’ll be out in a bit. Coffee is in the kitchen if you want some.”

“Thanks, but I already had my fix.” Her tone remained steady, an almost trademark monotone that could chill the air around her.

Eleanor nodded and made her way upstairs to change. Amelia, standing guard downstairs, had a key but wouldn’t step foot on the same level without permission—just part of the job.

When Eleanor finally came back down, they made their way out together. Today was a big day; she had a skincare product launch event, which meant getting her hair done and finding the right outfit.

In the car, her assistant Julian Hawthorne greeted her with a bright smile. “Hey, Eleanor!”

“Hey there!” she returned, sliding into her usual seat.

Julian was a year younger and, like Amelia, had been with her for five years.

With the engine humming, they were off to the company. Amelia, devoid of any excitement, ran through the day’s agenda. Once she ended the spiel, she snapped her phone shut, shooting Eleanor a sharp look. “Seriously, do you have to cook breakfast every day? I mean, if you’re gonna do it, at least do it for yourself. Why bother feeding someone who doesn’t even appreciate it? I swear, if I were to toss that out when the cook shows up, it would go straight into the trash.”

Eleanor chuckled awkwardly. “What’s the harm in sharing?”

“Because you’re acting like Mother Teresa or something,” Amelia retorted, her frustration bubbling. “You think you’re dating him when he obviously couldn’t care less. Not even friends with benefits. What’s wrong with you?”

Eleanor remained silent, a faint smile creeping on her face. Amelia was only looking out for her, so she didn’t take it to heart.

Julian chimed in, covering his mouth to stifle a laugh. “Come on, Amelia. Eleanor’s got her head on straight. Besides, I mean, Eleanor’s mom raised her, right? Come on, show some respect.”

Amelia shot him an incredulous look, her eyes narrowing. Eleanor could almost see the gears turning as she debated on how to unleash her next round of criticism.

Eleanor waved her hand dismissively. “It’s nothing serious. Amelia is just looking out for me—but I guess God decided I’d be the one left carrying the umbrella while watching love unfold for everyone else.”

Amelia rolled her eyes dramatically, but the tension slowly dissipated. She would reserve her rage for Alaric—How dense could he be? Here he was, tossing aside bright talent like Eleanor, and for what? A serious case of stupidity.

Chapter 4

Just after Eleanor stepped out, Beatrice came in.

Beatrice, Alaric’s agent, was three years his senior—soft-spoken and nurturing on the surface, but a force of nature behind the scenes. In the business, she held a higher position than Amelia and had connections that spread like wildfire. She had taken over Alaric's representation after he established his own studio, leaving behind his previous agent due to a clash in philosophies.

Thanks to Alaric’s rising star, the studio had never struggled for resources and continued to thrive. And once Alaric married Eleanor, whether by design or fate, their ties to the Ellis family secured an even greater influx of opportunities. The studio employees felt a genuine gratitude towards Eleanor; if Alaric was the studio’s golden goose, Eleanor was the one with the golden connections. To the outside world, they appeared inseparable from the Ellis name.

Beatrice had already phoned Alaric before entering. As she set down the dumplings Eleanor had prepared on the dining table, Alaric emerged from the upstairs.

He glanced around for Eleanor, but the sight of her slippers by the door told him she was gone for the moment.

“Coffee, please,” he said as he settled into a chair at the table.

Beatrice, well-acquainted with the layout, washed her hands and got to work brewing coffee. “You’ve been back for days, and you still haven’t adjusted to the time change.”

Alaric picked up a dumpling, shooting a disinterested look at the two plates of breakfast Eleanor had left behind. “I’m getting there.”

His almond-shaped eyes were striking—sharp yet not overly flirtatious, the narrow double eyelids lending him an air of authority with every subtle blink.

But the food had gone cold; the eggs and sausage looked greasy, hardly tempting him.

“They left breakfast for you. It’s nutritious,” Beatrice pointed out, placing the dumplings on the table.

Alaric smirked as he took a bite of his dumpling. “That little thing made those for me. She’s small but has no lack of confidence.”

“Can’t believe someone managed to flirt with the great Alaric, huh?” Beatrice’s tone dripped with sarcasm.

Most people wouldn’t dare speak to Alaric this way, but their relationship allowed for such playful jabs. Sure, he was talented and dedicated to his craft, but behind closed doors, she often found him insufferable. His temper was unpredictable, and while he enjoyed the chase, he didn't bother with the repercussions or clearing up the mess—leaving Beatrice and the studio staff to pick up the pieces. She was the one left managing the chaos, while he played the star.

“Isn’t that just his personal brand of flirting, going for the kill?” Alaric teased, biting into a sausage link that still had decent flavor.

Beatrice shot him a knowing look. “I’d say you’re just a bit frustrated lately.”

“When have I ever been satisfied?” He finished the sausage and turned to his dumpling.

With a roll of her eyes, Beatrice replied, “There’s a dinner tonight with some investors, all reputable people in the industry. You might want to check it out—let off some steam.”

She understood Alaric well; verbal sparring was his forte far more than physical confrontations. Over the years, while rumors had swirled about him, his personal life had remained relatively clean. Thus, she was strict about which events he attended, knowing how to balance his presence with the right crowd.

“Sure, sounds good. I’ve been cooped up for too long anyway.”

As a rising pop star, Eleanor had her own dressing rooms, makeup stations, and recording spaces in their entertainment company. With their undeniable strengths and resources, his accommodations were certainly better than most.

After two hours of fussing in the makeup chair, Eleanor reappeared ready for her press release. The makeup artist and stylist had worked their magic, transforming her look into something mature yet stylish.

With her bangs swept back, revealing a flawless forehead, she wore a grayish-white shirt, paired with a silver suit adorned with subtle reddish-purple patterns. Her bottom half was clad in deep gray-brown cropped trousers, with soft brown leather shoes completing the outfit. The first few buttons of her shirt were deliberately left undone, hinting at a glimpse of her collarbone, adding just a hint of casual allure to her otherwise polished appearance.

Julian pulled out his phone and snapped several shots of Eleanor, just like he did every day, storing them for her social media.

Today’s press event involved not only making a splash but consisted largely of interviews afterward. Even the brightest stars needed to stay visible. Without regular public appearances, his heat would fade, and fans would grow restless. So, Amelia ensured he participated in interviews and discussions whenever there were no major events, keeping him fresh in the public eye.

After picking a few of the best photos, Julian sent them over. “Eleanor, post these on your socials. Look at how great these turned out!”

Chapter 5

Eleanor checked her phone, finding the usual updates—a reflection of her usual style. “Not bad,” she muttered, tucking it back into her pocket.

Amelia shot her an annoyed look. “If it’s so great, why not just tweet about it? Why keep it to yourself?”

Eleanor had always managed her Twitter account herself, and there had never been any issues. But ever since she got married, her posting frequency had dropped significantly. Before, a day without a tweet was a rarity; now, three days could go by without a single update.

“Whatever, I just don’t have anything to say,” Eleanor replied with a smile, turning her gaze out the window.

No matter what she posted, the comments always circled back to questions about Alaric. They were married, so it made sense, but Eleanor often found herself at a loss for answers. What was he doing? It felt absurd—almost as if she were just another fan. Only during promotional events did she get any real updates from Beatrice about Alaric’s life, and even then, it was often just news that fans would learn a few days later.

Interactions on Alaric’s Twitter were sparse as well. The few times he had engaged were managed by Beatrice, usually just routine remarks about visits on set—uninspired and bland. Eleanor preferred to keep a low profile to avoid drawing attention, in case their fans picked up on the cracks in their carefully constructed facade.

It had all started as a business arrangement—something the Ellis family proposed that Alaric surprisingly accepted without much fuss.

Now, three years into their marriage, actual time spent together was minimal. The first couple of years, Alaric had been swamped with back-to-back filming, rarely returning home. This year, his commitments had eased slightly, but Eleanor was also buried in her own job, leaving little time for the two of them. This week, however, they had a rare window—a full week under the same roof, as Alaric had just returned from abroad and Eleanor had no out-of-town commitments. But even then, nothing truly changed…

At the event today, Eleanor was greeted by a crowd of her fans as they stepped out of the car. She waved to them, the excited screams almost drowning out the voice of the event coordinator.

Once inside, the flurry of tweets featuring her made the rounds.

“My Eleanor looks stunning!”

“Isn’t she so sweet? She actually paused to take a picture with us.”

“Eleanor seems more mature today; I could totally swoop in for a passionate moment.”

“Can’t believe I missed this! Crying over here! QAQ.”

“Alaric, take your wife home; she’s giving off major ‘come get me’ vibes! I want to rip her shirt open!”

...

Beatrice finished going over the recent arrangements with Alaric before departing, promising to return soon for their dinner outing.

Alaric flipped through the script Beatrice had dropped off, finding nothing captivating. He picked up his phone for a mindless scroll through Twitter instead. For the most part, he managed his own account, with Beatrice jumping on only when work necessitated it. This gave him a rare freedom compared to others in the industry who had to filter everything through their agents.

Lately, things had been pretty quiet in the entertainment world. There was only so much gossip one could drum up; it all felt overwhelmingly mundane.

Scrolling through, Alaric noticed an @ mention that caught his eye—something he typically ignored unless he was bored, as now. The first tweet that popped up was one from a fan who had joked about ripping Eleanor’s clothes off, featuring two candid photos of her that had amassed an avalanche of likes and retweets.

The images weren’t particularly glamorous; they lacked any special angles or techniques, almost like snapshots from a phone. But they exuded an authenticity that struck him.

Leaning back on the couch, a smirk crept across Alaric's face. That girl cleans up nicely. At home, he never truly considered her looks, but out and about? She really did look breathtaking.

But then again, it made sense. He hadn’t spent enough time at home to appreciate her. Their marriage had never been built on romance; it was a merger of convenience. They even lived like separate entities, and he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by staring too long.

Still, it was hard to deny that those long legs and curves would make anyone want to take a closer look.

With a soft chuckle, Alaric shut down Twitter and tossed his phone aside, reclining comfortably on the couch. Despite being married for a while now, it felt as if it had only just happened—an odd twist of being strangers even after their wedding day.

After the press conference, Eleanor faced a barrage of media questions.

Aside from a couple about the brand she represented, most centered around her work schedule and personal life, inevitably linking back to Alaric.

Some queries left her stumped—had they traveled together recently? What were their future plans? How was Alaric doing? What did he do all day?

Eleanor longed to answer, “Nothing, nothing, who knows?” Yet, she couldn’t voice that. Instead, she had to reflect an image of closeness and intimacy, disguising how distant their everyday life had become. It felt exhausting for a brief moment.

Not missing a beat, Amelia noticed her fading energy and quickly stepped in, cutting the interview short.

Julian, always sharp, ushered Eleanor back to the car, planning to wait until Amelia chatted with the reporters for a bit longer before heading home.

Once back, Eleanor found Margaret had dinner ready, preparing to wrap up her day.

Spotting Eleanor with a takeout bag, Margaret chuckled, “Didn’t you guys just have buns for breakfast? You’ve still got a few left; why the extra food?”

Eleanor quickly offered, “Oh, just grabbing a few for a late-night snack.”

She knew Alaric liked these buns from this popular spot, and since she was in the area, it seemed logical to grab some. But she realized he must’ve already gotten to them. Probably Beatrice or Alaric's assistant had picked them up. Just when she thought she’d done something nice, it turned out to be yet another missed opportunity.

After Margaret left, Eleanor stored the buns in the fridge. Glancing at the kitchen trash on her way upstairs, she saw it was empty; Margaret must’ve already thrown out the garbage. She wondered absently if Alaric had touched the breakfast she made. Chances were, the buns would probably replace the remnants of the morning meal entirely...

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