Chapter 2: Stolen Moments
The after-party was everything Lena despised about Hollywood.
Music boomed from hidden speakers, champagne fizzed in crystal glasses, and celebrities sparkled beneath chandeliers that dripped with golden light. Photographers weren't allowed inside, but the tension never lifted. Every laugh, every whispered word, every gesture—someone would talk, someone would leak it, and by dawn, the internet would have its headlines.
Lena sat in the corner of the grand hall, her award trophy resting on her lap. Fans would imagine she was glowing with happiness, basking in her victory. The truth was that her cheeks hurt from smiling, her throat burned from faking laughter, and her heart ached with every glance across the room.
Because Adrian was there too.
He was standing at the center of the crowd, surrounded by producers, directors, and a few actors who laughed a little too loudly at his jokes. His charisma was effortless, his smile dazzling, his posture screaming confidence. He looked like he belonged there.
And he did.
But what hurt was the woman standing at his side.
Her hair gleamed under the chandeliers, a silken wave of gold. Her dress shimmered in midnight blue, clinging to every curve like it had been sewn on her body. Serena Valentine—Hollywood's newest sweetheart, the starlet whose face had graced every magazine cover in the last three months.
The same woman the tabloids were already calling Adrian's "mystery lover."
Lena's fingers dug into the stem of her champagne glass. She hated how perfect they looked together, how natural Serena's hand rested on Adrian's arm as if she belonged there.
"Don't stare too long."
Lena's manager slid into the chair beside her, her voice low but sharp. "The cameras aren't here, but the eyes are. You give people the wrong impression, and you'll wake up tomorrow to another scandal."
"I'm fine," Lena murmured, forcing her lips into a polite smile.
Her manager raised an eyebrow. "You look like you're about to shatter that glass."
Lena loosened her grip immediately. "I'm just tired."
"Good. Keep it that way. You're the nation's angel. People don't want to see angels jealous."
The words stung because they were true. Lena had built her entire career on being untouchable, on embodying the perfection fans craved. Angels didn't envy. Angels didn't break. Angels certainly didn't marry in secret.
Her gaze drifted back to Adrian despite herself.
As if sensing it, he turned. Their eyes locked.
In the crowded, glittering room, that single glance was a lifeline. His smile softened, just barely, and for a moment it wasn't Adrian Cole, the superstar—it was Adrian, her husband, the man who held her when nightmares chased her out of sleep.
Then Serena leaned closer, whispering something in his ear. Adrian laughed.
The fragile moment splintered, and Lena felt her chest cave in.
---
She escaped the party as soon as her manager was distracted, slipping through the back corridor that led to the dressing rooms. Her heels clicked softly against the marble floor, her gown swishing around her ankles.
The silence was intoxicating after the noise.
She found an empty dressing room, stepped inside, and closed the door behind her. For the first time that night, she allowed herself to breathe.
Her reflection in the mirror mocked her. Perfect hair. Perfect skin. Perfect lips. But her eyes—red, glassy, raw—told the truth.
"Why are we doing this to ourselves?" she whispered.
The door opened.
Her heart lurched.
Adrian stepped in, closing it with a soft click. "I thought I'd find you here."
"Don't." Her voice was hoarse. "Don't pretend this is normal. Don't act like you can just—just stand there with her and then come running after me."
Adrian sighed, running a hand through his hair. Without the spotlight, he looked different—tired, shadows beneath his eyes, his charm stripped away to something more human.
"Lena…"
"Do you know what it felt like?" Her voice trembled as she rose from the chair, facing him. "Sitting there while she—while Serena touched you like she had every right? Do you know how humiliating it is? To be your wife and watch the world call another woman yours?"
He closed the distance in two strides, his hands gripping her shoulders. "It's not real. You know it's not real."
"Then why does it look so real?"
"Because it has to!" His voice cracked with frustration. "Because the agency demanded it, because the fans eat it up, because if anyone even suspects you and I—"
"They'll destroy us," Lena finished bitterly. "I know."
Silence hung heavy between them.
Finally, Adrian cupped her face, his thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped down her cheek. "Lena, listen to me. You are the only one. Do you understand? You. No one else."
Her throat tightened. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and forget the world outside that door.
But the sound of Serena's laughter from the hall drifted into the room, and the moment shattered again.
Lena stepped back, her voice a whisper. "Then why does it feel like I'm losing you?"
Adrian's eyes darkened, pain flickering in their depths. He opened his mouth to answer, but a sharp knock rattled the door.
"Adrian, Serena's looking for you. They want a photo for Variety. Hurry!"
Lena's heart froze.
Adrian lingered for a moment, torn, his gaze locked on hers. Then, slowly, he let his hands fall.
"I'll fix this," he said softly. "I promise."
And then he was gone, leaving Lena alone in the silence, her reflection in the mirror looking more broken than ever.
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