Chapter 1
The night before we registered our marriage, Alex Whitman got wasted on camera during the wrap party livestream.
The host asked him if tomorrow would be the happiest day of his life.
He lowered his head, absentmindedly tracing the ring on his finger, his eyes a little red. "Yeah, I suppose so. It's a bit of a shame that the one I'm marrying isn't the person I truly love."
The comments section exploded.
Everyone online was feeling bad for this superstar, stuck in a business marriage he never wanted.
But only I knew that the one he was marrying tomorrow was me. And that drama he just wrapped up. From the first pitch to casting to promotion, I was the one bankrolling it all.
I shut off the livestream and texted the head of marketing. [Pause all of Alex's post-marriage promotional packages.]
Less than half a minute after the message was sent, Olivia Sawyer, the marketing director, called.
I picked up, and the livestream was still running in the background.
On the tablet screen, Alex was being helped to his feet, the host awkwardly handing him a tissue, while the rest of the cast and crew were around, smiling like they were all playing along in some pre-planned, emotional scene.
Olivia kept her voice low. "Ms. Grant, when you say pause all of it, do you mean the official announcement for tomorrow morning, or should we stop all the brand and platform tie-ins too?"
I watched the comments scroll by. [He's hurting so much], [Capitalist marriage ruined true love], [Poor Alex].
Then I pressed the phone to my ear. "Cancel the marriage registration announcement scheduled for nine tomorrow morning.
"Take down the couple's feature cover.
"Cancel the post-marriage interview.
"Withdraw the male lead's commercial package for Falling Stars.
"Notify the platform to reassess the New Year's promo slot for him before midnight tonight."
Olivia paused for a second. "Mr. Whitman's team is already working overtime to manage the comments."
"Who told them to do that?"
"Mr. Whitman's agent. He said this is blowing up way too much, and he's worried that if the Grant family catches wind of it, things won't end well."
I let out a laugh. 'So, he knows this could get messy, huh?
'Funny how Alex never worried about the consequences when he went live with teary eyes and put me on the trending list.'
I said, "Don't bother with damage control."
Olivia was clearly stunned. "No damage control?"
"Let the trending buzz run its course. Delete the official clarification we have drafted for him. Tell the platform that any fallout from Alex's livestream tonight is his team's problem to handle."
Olivia responded right away. She had been with me for five years and knew I didn't like to repeat myself.
After hanging up, I pulled up the trending topics. [Alex didn't marry his true love], [Alex is getting married tomorrow], and [Sophie Quinn and Alex Whitman's bad ending].
On the third hashtag, Sophie was already blowing up.
She was Alex's ex-girlfriend and the actress he worked with three times early in his career.
Back when they were both at the top, their shippers could turn a single airport paparazzi shot into a thirty-episode drama.
Later, Sophie's career started to decline, while Alex kept climbing. They broke up and got back together for years, but it all ended for good the night Alex won his first Best Actor award.
At least, that was what everyone thought.
My phone buzzed again.
This time, it was Alex's agent, Ethan Shaw. [Ms. Grant, Alex got pretty wasted tonight and said some stuff without thinking.
[We've got the statement ready. You'll still go ahead with the marriage registration tomorrow morning, and the announcement will go out as planned.]
I didn't reply.
He sent another message. [We'll remove the trending hashtags and keep Sophie out of the headlines. It won't affect your plans with Alex.]
'Our plans, huh?' I thought. 'He talked about me and Alex ending our marriage at the courthouse tomorrow like it was just another item on Alex's calendar.'
I set my phone down on the table and walked over to the walk-in closet.
The white suit I was going to wear for our wedding tomorrow was already pressed, hanging front and center.
Alex had picked it out for me himself last week.
That day, he looked at me from behind the dressing room mirror, his eyes and voice both gentle. "Charlotte, this looks perfect on you."
Back then, I thought he was at least a little serious about us.
Then I realized that actors could make a stray dog look like it had a tragic backstory. And besides, I was the one holding all his career opportunities for the next three years.
As I was taking the suit off the hanger, the doorbell rang.
My assistant, Mia Winters, was standing at the door, holding a file box in her arms. "Ms. Grant, here are the project materials you asked for."
She set the box down on the coffee table, revealing five stacks of documents, each sorted by color.
The red ones were commercial contracts that had already been signed and were waiting to be rolled out.
The blue ones were platform resource exchanges.
The black ones were joint promotional agreements between Whitman Studio and my company.
On top was the "Post-Marriage Image Upgrade Plan," set to launch right after we registered our marriage tomorrow.
The first page of the plan read: [Shift from single superstar to seasoned actor, leveraging a genuine marriage to elevate public credibility.]