By the time Hailey stepped into the elevator, the polished aluminum walls reflected her image like a mirror—reveag the unmistakable purple marks scattered across her shoulders and neck.

Her strapless dress offered no coverage.

Her face paled. If anyone saw her like this, she’d be front-page news.

Not the good kind.

A star’s reputation was everything. Countless Stars had been discarded by the industry over scandals, let alone a third-tier actress like her.

The elevator descended to the third floor.

Gritting her teeth, she tore her floor-length gown at the knee and draped the fabric over her shoulders like a shawl. The makeshift cover-up didn’t look entirely out of place.

Ding—

The doors opened on the first floor.

Keeping her head low, her hair shielding her face, Hailey hurried toward the exit—unaware of the reporters loitering outside.

“Is that Hailey?” one murmured.

“No way. Even a litter star wouldn’t wear rags like that.”

“Hailey!” A shrill voice cut through the lobby.

She turned. There stood Emery, her peach-blossom face alight with mockery.

“It is Hailey!”

“And Emery’s here too?!”

Cameras snapped to attention, shutters firing like gunshots.

Suppressing the ache in her body, Hailey arched a brow. “What do you want?”

Emery to Hailey with a curl, smirking. “Producer Li just praised you yesterday. And here you are, leaving a hotel at dawn. Did something… happen last night?”

She knew exactly what had happened—she’d called the press herself. The question was pure humiliation.

Hailey scoffed. “You’re here too. Did you cozy up to some producer?”

Emery’s smile deepened. “Darian drank too much. I took care of him all night. Unlike you, we’re engaged. But you… you’ve always claimed to be single, right?”

At the mention of Darian, a shadow flickered in Hailey's eyes. She bit her lip.

He’s nothing to you now.

“None of your business.” She turned to leave.

Emery wasn’t done. With a yank, she tore away the makeshift shawl.

“Oops! My hand slipped.” Emery covered her mouth, glee barely concealed.

The marks glared under the lobby lights—undeniable to any adult.

The press erupted.

“Miss Hailey, were you with Producer Li last night?”

“Did you know he’s married?”

“Have you been lying about your single status?”

Flashbulbs bded her. The barrage of questions blurred into noise. Nausea rose—from the night before, from the onslaught.

One thought crystallized:

I’m finished.

She stood frozen, exposed.

Then—warmth. A suit jacket, scented with cologne, settled over her shoulders.

“There was no Producer Li.” A cold, clear voice spoke by her ear. “She was with me.”

Hailey whirled. The man from this morning stared back.

“Let go!” She trembled, trying to pull free.

Hadn’t this day been ruinous enough?

His arm—unyielding as steel—locked around her waist, steering her away. Over his shoulder, he tossed a command: “Yan. Handle it.”

An elderly man bowed, then faced the clamoring reporters with a black, gold-embossed card.

“I am the Aldrich family’s interim spokesperson. Direct all inquiries to me.”

The name struck like lightning. Cameras lowered. Notebooks snapped shut.

The Aldrich family.

A dynasty of untouchable power. British nobility by heritage, they controlled the nation’s economic veins. In this city, the Aldrich were the law.

No photo would ever run.

The Aldrich's media grip was absolute. Beyond corporate bulletins, nothing published without their approval—especially regarding their heir, Aldrich. The world knew his name, but not his face.

One paper had dared print his profile. By month’s end, the Aldrich owned it.

These reporters valued their lives.

Emery stood rigid, her grip whitening on her purse.

How?! This should’ve been Hailey's disgrace—her exile from the industry!

She’d heard of the Aldrich. Even their junior executives were beyond her reach. Their heir? A myth.

How did Hailey land in his orbit?

As the press dispersed under Yan’s direction, Emery snatched her phone.

“You swore everything was set!” she hissed. “What’s this about the Aldrich?!”

The voice on the e faltered. “sister, it was! I delivered her to 3008, just like—”

“308!” Emery nearly screamed.

She’d drugged Hailey's drink, ordered her delivered to Producer Li’s room. That idiot had sent her to the wrong suite!

As the stammering excuses continued, Emery’s vision reddened.

That trash had somehow caught the Aldrich heir’s Aldrich.

“Emery?” A gentle voice called from behind.

Her snarl melted into sweetness. “Darian.”

Darian slipped an arm around her. “Found the charger. It was under the bed. Let’s go.”

She leaned into him, all softness—Aldrichs downcast to hide the fury.

Next time, I won’t miss.