I always hated going to events, parties, wine sipping and fine dining.
Not because I didn't have the confidence but– the stares that followed your body like a magnet– each whispering of how poor I still am, how lucky that I was chosen for a role or how fancy I looked.
They don't really care about my personality, only the money and fame that it brings.
"Can you do fast with your makeup, Ethan, the crowd isn't going to entertain itself" my manager groaned. He tapped the two designers that were busy selecting an outfit to go outside to go get the one that I was supposed to wear.
"There is still time to swap me." I answered.
He rolled his eyes. "Two minutes and you are done," he said, tapping his watch as he walked out.
—
The lights are blinding, the camera's split flashes at me as I stand at the top of the red carpet, poised in that practiced smile that's already hurting my cheeks.
Hollywood's rising star.
But tonight, as I adjust my tux and lift my chin for the photographers, I remember it all.
Inside the ballroom, heavy lighted chandeliers, champagne glasses sparkle like stars. Perfume so thick hangs in the air as many in tailored suits and dresses laugh loudly with soft music playing in the background. The nostalgic
The director's hand lands heavy on my shoulder, his grin shark like. "Remember, darling" he murmured, his breath reeking of whiskey. "Two billion. Bring out your lucky charm, beg if you must. Understand?"
My jaw tightens but I nod. The role– the biggest of my career, my future, my ticket out of scraping for scraps
I mount the stage and the applause is polite but disinterested. I was a new face, so they really don't like me and I'm here to empty their wallets.
"Ladies and gentlemen" I begin, my voice warm, the way they like it. "Thank you for being here tonight. As you all know, we are supporting a project that will shine a light on stories that has been untold, three days without our comfort but here for humanity and cinema and tonight—"
I pause, scanning the glittering crowd. Faces stare back, blank and bored, already calculating what their donation will buy them in return. My stomach twists.
"Tonight," I continued, "we're asking for your generosity. Just two billion dollars can bring this story to life. One billion– for art, for changes, for the voice that too often goes unheard. The rest for charity"
A mocking laugh came from the back with a loud voice that followed. "We don't really care for people that aren't bringing in the money"
Silence stretches, a few coughs and glass clicking.
I force a smile, even as heat creeps up my neck. "Think of it" I pressed on. "Two billion is nothing compared to what we spend on cars, on jewelry, on holidays. Yet that same amount could create something lasting".
Still nothing. I feel sweat in my forehead. Really, after all this speech I had spent days learning.
I looked at the director but the ways his eyes stared back at me crippled me so hard.
I push harder. "Two thousand homeless people would be able to relocate or see their family again. Some would be put in health sector and the remaining would be used for the film we all have been waiting for"
A ripple of uneasy laughter, my skin burns.
My smile cracks.
"Or perhaps" I say, letting my voice cool. "The problem is that we all don't have little to spare or charity only looks good in the news, doesn't it? So all the money was a lie?"
Gasps. A few heads turn away, my heart hammers but I don't stop. "Tonight, it is the time to show that we aren't heartless as they said"
The silence after is suffocating, my throat feels raw
And then— a voice cuts through it.
"One billion"
The words fall heavy into the room like a stone dropped in water. Every head swivels.
I follow their gaze– and see him.
The Mafia prince.
He sits at the far end of the ballroom, half in shadow, his tuxedo molded to his Drake as though it were part of him. His glass of wine dangles between two fingers, his expression cold. Only his eyes move, locking on me.
A shiver races down my spine
"One billion" he repeats, louder now, his voice firm. "Put my name on it"
The room erupts, applause, laughter, chatter. Relief washed over the director's face like a tidal wave. While I burn in anger. Hypocrites everywhere. Why was he even here?
My manager mouthed at me. "Go to him and thank him"
I feel sick
The Mafia prince doesn't clap, he only watches me, that unreadable gaze pinning me in place
My legs are heavy as I step down from the stage, each step forceful. I weave through the sea of bodies, my smile almost breaking from my perfect face.
Up close, he is worse. Handsome in the way that you can't tell– his mouth tilts in something that could be a smile but it wasn't.
I stop before him, my voice is smooth though bile creeps up my throat.
"Generous of you" i say "Almost excessive"
His gaze flickers, amused. "Excess is the only language this room understands"
I grit my teeth, but my lips curve into charm. "Then congratulations. You've spoken it louder than anyone else"
He leans back slightly, swirling his wine, eyes never leaving mine. "You don't look grateful"
"I am" I lie, my hands tightening behind my back. "My director will sing your praises until his last breath"
"But you?" His brow arches, his mouth tugging upward, mocking. "What will you sing for me?
Heat flares in my chest, my smile doesn't falter, but my words cut sharper. "Don't mistake obligation for admiration"
His laugh is soft. "Sharp tongue. Careful– one day someone might cut it out"
My smile leaves my face. "Before they do. It already curses you everyday"
Before he could respond, the director came, full with a smile. "We won't forget about this day."
"Arh. I want to wipe out those words from his mouth. That motherfucker holds me a lot." I screamed in my head.
"Ethan" my director turned to me. "Bring more drinks for our guest" he said waving his hand to dismiss me. I bowed and left.
When I came back with the drinks, I only met the director with other people talking. I kept one glass at a nearby table and drank the remaining one with a gulp. The sweet taste burns my lungs. I heaved.
Turning to see a shadow looks. His bodyguard, tall and broad , appears at my side. "Boss wants a word. Privately"
The room sprang with chatter and applause as the screen raised to a thousand dollars but all I heard was the thrum of my pulse. I followed the bodyguard, my jaw tight as I screamed in my head. "This is what the director wanted"