Fame never asked for permission.
It took.
Ariel Moore learned that on the night she stood outside Orion Entertainment, watching a building glow like it was breathing. Light poured from every window. Music thumped faintly through concrete walls. Somewhere inside, a life was unfolding that had nothing to do with hers—and yet, was about to ruin it.
Or save it.
She adjusted the temporary badge clipped to her blazer.
TEMPORARY STAFF.
Her name looked foreign beneath it, as though it didn't belong in a place like this.
The screams came suddenly.
High-pitched. Fevered. Worshipful.
Ariel flinched, instinctively stepping back as a crowd surged behind metal barriers across the street. Phones were raised like offerings. Names were chanted in unison.
Jaxon. Jaxon. Jaxon.
She exhaled slowly.
She had never screamed for him.
Never cried over him.
Never imagined standing this close to the world he ruled.
That, she would later learn, was her greatest mistake.
"Assistant Moore."
She turned.
A man in a black suit stood a few steps away. His posture was rigid, his eyes cold, his expression sharpened by years of saying no to people who begged.
"Follow me," he said. "And from this moment on, you hear nothing. You see nothing. You are nothing."
Ariel nodded.
Because when rent is due and dreams are starving, pride learns how to stay quiet.
Inside, the air was different.
Heavier.
It smelled like money, pressure, and exhaustion masked by expensive cologne. Walls of glass reflected people moving too fast, talking too loud, panicking too publicly.
A television screen flashed the same headline again and again:
TOP IDOL JAXON VALE SPOTTED IN SECRET ROMANTIC SCANDAL
Ariel's heart sank.
She hadn't even met him yet, and she was already standing in the aftermath of his disaster.
"Sit," the man said. "I'm Mr. Han."
She sat.
Voices collided around her—managers arguing, assistants whispering, phones ringing like alarms. The photo on the screen was cruelly blurry. A man stepping into a car. A woman beside him. Half a truth, fully weaponized.
Then the room fell silent.
Not because someone asked it to.
Because he entered.
Ariel looked up.
And everything she thought she knew collapsed.
Jaxon Vale wasn't glowing.
He wasn't smiling.
He wasn't untouchable.
He was tired.
Hair undone. Jaw tense. Eyes shadowed with something dangerously human. Fame clung to him like a weight instead of a crown.
His gaze swept the room—then stopped on her.
Not curious.
Not impressed.
Just… present.
"Who's that?" he asked.
Mr. Han answered smoothly. "Temporary assistant. Ariel Moore. Clean record. Not a fan."
Jaxon studied her.
"She doesn't look like she wants to be here."
Ariel met his eyes without thinking.
"I don't," she said quietly. "But I need the job."
The room froze.
Then—unexpectedly—Jaxon laughed.
It wasn't loud. Or charming.
It was soft. Broken. Real.
"Good," he said. "Honesty survives longer than devotion."
An hour later, Ariel was still there.
Still breathing the same air as him.
Still pretending this was normal.
She scrolled through schedules that looked more like sentences than plans. No rest. No space. No escape.
"You'll stay close," Mr. Han instructed. "No statements. No opinions. No attachments."
Jaxon leaned against the desk, arms crossed. "She'll do."
"This is not your call," Mr. Han snapped.
Jaxon's voice dropped. "It is when my life is burning."
His eyes met Ariel's again.
"Why are you really here?" he asked.
She hesitated.
Then told the truth.
"Because my life is collapsing quietly, and yours is doing it loudly."
Something shifted in him.
Just slightly.
The contract appeared like a verdict.
Thick. Final. Dangerous.
Mr. Han slid it across the table.
"Ariel Moore," he said, "effective immediately, you will assume an additional role."
Her eyes skimmed the bold text.
PUBLIC PARTNER.
IMAGE CONTROL.
DURATION: OPEN-ENDED.
Her throat closed.
Fake relationship.
With the man the world worshipped and destroyed in the same breath.
"That's insane," she whispered.
"You'll be paid enough to change your life," Mr. Han replied. "Education. Housing. Stability."
Jaxon said nothing.
He watched her like he already knew what saying yes would cost.
"If I refuse?" she asked.
"There are others," Mr. Han said calmly.
Jaxon stepped forward.
"I won't force you," he said. "But if you stay, the world will believe it. And belief is permanent."
Ariel looked at him.
Not the idol.
The man.
Lonely. Cornered. Breaking behind perfect lighting.
She picked up the pen.
Signed.
The scratch of ink echoed louder than the screams outside.
And just like that—
She stepped into a story she was never meant to exist in.
A borrowed fame.
A dangerous lie.
And a love that would cost her everything.