Chapter 1
On an all-day couple observation reality show, the cameras never stopped rolling.
Vivienne Blanc, the hottest young actress around, nestled into her fiancé's arms, flashing a diamond ring so big it could blind you.
"Marcus actually turned down a multi-billion-dollar deal from the Hohen Group just to film with me," she said, her voice sweet and playful.
The live chat went wild, and everyone online was jealous of her top-tier pampering from a super-rich fiancé.
Then the camera switched to me and my "ordinary husband," who was quietly peeling crayfish for me, his face hidden behind a mask.
Vivienne stifled a laugh, a trace of mockery flickering in her eyes.
"Stella, where does your husband work? Maybe Marcus can help him get a security job," Vivienne teased.
Before I could say anything, my husband took off his mask and deliberately wiped his hands with a wet wipe.
He gave Marcus Lambert a cold stare.
He looked at Marcus coolly and said, "That multi-billion-dollar project you claim to be running, why am I completely in the dark about it?"
Marcus's knees buckled, and he collapsed to the floor with a loud thud.
"M-Mr. Hohen..." Marcus stammered, his voice trembling.
The stage lights in the studio were glaring, almost harsh enough to make you squint.
Hot air came flooding in through the vents, and the place reeked of pricey perfume mixed with cheap hairspray.
"Love Under the Lens" was a celebrity couple reality show that boasted zero scripts and nonstop live streaming, 24/7.
On its very first day, the live stream smashed through the ten million mark.
Right in the center of the shot, Vivienne lounged on a leather sofa, dressed in a Chanel couture outfit, her legs elegantly crossed.
Her right hand rested casually on her knee, and the massive pink diamond on her ring finger caught the light, throwing off a blinding sparkle.
Marcus sat beside her, rocking a perfectly tailored dark blue suit and a Patek Philippe watch on his wrist.
He had one arm around Vivienne's waist, while his other hand played with her hair.
"Marcus, you stayed up until three in the morning reading documents yesterday, and now you're still here with me for the show. Are you sure you can handle it?" Vivienne cooed, her voice dripping with honey.
Vivienne tilted her head back, looking up at him with that syrupy sweetness in her tone.
Marcus glanced down, a smile curling on his lips, the kind he thought was flawless.
"For you, ditching that multi-billion-dollar Hohen Group project? That's no big deal," he said.
"Money's got nothing on spending time with my wife," he added.
As soon as he said that, the live chat erupted, comments flooding the screen like a blizzard.
[I'm dead, let me be sacrificed for Vivi and Mr. Lambert's happiness!]
[This is what true billionaire love looks like! Dropping a multi-billion-dollar deal without a second thought!]
[Mr. Lambert's gaze at Vivi is so sweet, it's melting! Who else feels this, fam?]
[Can Stella and her broke husband learn a thing or two? Honestly, they're so cringe!]
The director, who knows exactly how to grab attention, instantly switched the second camera over to the corner.
There I was, slouched in a folding chair, looking like I couldn't care less.
Munching on a bag of chips, making loud crunching noises.
There was a guy sitting next to me.
He was wearing a black windbreaker, no brand, nothing flashy, a black baseball cap pulled low, and a black medical mask covering most of his face.
All one could see were his eyes: deep, cold, and sharp.
Right now, those eyes are locked onto a massive bowl of spicy crayfish right in front of him.
His slender, well-defined fingers gripped the head of a crayfish and gave it a gentle twist.
The bright red shell snapped with a crisp pop.
The tender white meat slipped out perfectly whole, and he set it down on the porcelain plate right in front of me.
He grabbed a wet wipe and, with deliberate care, cleaned the spicy oil from his fingertips before reaching for the next one.
Every move was smooth as silk, carrying a subtle, unmistakable air of luxury.
I skewered a piece of crayfish with my toothpick, stuffed it in my mouth, and muttered, my cheeks still full.
"It's kinda spicy. Can I get an ice-cold Coke?" I mumbled.
The guy paused, turned his head, and gave me a look.
"You're almost on your period. Room temperature only," he replied.
His voice was low and rough, muffled by the mask, and he said it in a way that made it clear there was no arguing.
I pouted, leaned back in my chair, and kept acting lazy.
The vibe in the live chat flipped in an instant.
[LOL, where did Stella dig up this background actor? Dude's too scared to even show his face!]
[Watch, he's probably some ugly mug. Or maybe just a bricklayer from a construction site?]
[Check out his crayfish peeling skills, he's gotta be a night market stall worker!]
[Stella's a celeb, seriously! How did she end up with a nobody like that?]
[Compared to Vivi and Mr. Lambert, Stella and her hubby are getting absolutely steamrolled.]
Vivienne noticed the live chat blowing up on the big screen.
A smug look flashed in her eyes as she made her way over in sky-high heels, making sure everyone noticed her.
Marcus trailed after her, one hand in his pocket, chin held high.
"Stella, you guys really got the short end of the stick, huh?" Vivienne said, stopping in front of our folding table.
She waved her hand in front of her nose, wrinkling her brows.
"Why did the show give you crawfish? Aren't these things kind of... sketchy?" she added.
"Marcus just had some Australian lobsters flown in. Maybe we'll let you have a taste once the chef's done," she said.
I swallowed my chips and casually slapped the crumbs off my hands.
"No need. The crayfish my husband peels for me taste way better than any Australian lobster," I said.
Vivienne stifled a laugh, her shoulders shaking with amusement.
"Stella, you're always so proud," she teased.
"Everyone in the business knows your career's been in a slump lately. You got married, but didn't even have a proper wedding," she added.
She looked the masked guy next to me up and down, making no effort to hide her disdain.
"So, where does your husband work? Is he in some high position, or is he just always hiding behind that mask? Is he sick or something?" Vivienne sneered.
"Maybe Marcus can hook him up with a job? The Hohen Group has plenty of branches, getting him a spot as a security guard or a chauffeur would be no trouble at all," she added.
Right on cue, Marcus cleared his throat and straightened his tie.