The soft buzz of her phone dragged Anna Hale out of sleep. She stretched across the king-sized bed, expecting to see her husband's usual "Good morning, love" text waiting for her. But when her fingers curled around the device, the glow of the screen revealed something else—hundreds of notifications, an avalanche of messages from friends, her manager, even her stylist.
Her brows knitted in confusion as she tapped one. Then her heart nearly stopped.
"Adrian Cross and Scarlet Vane: Chemistry On and Off Screen?"
"Hollywood's Golden Boy and His Co-star—A New Romance?"
"Fans Ship Adrian and Scarlet—Is It More Than Just Acting?"
Anna's throat went dry. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she swiped through endless headlines, her eyes landing on pictures of her husband with another woman. Adrian—her Adrian—was laughing beside Scarlet Vane. His hand brushed her arm. Their faces leaned too close, the kind of closeness tabloids devoured and fans romanticized.
The world was already building its favorite fantasy: Adrian Cross and Scarlet Vane, Hollywood's hottest new couple.
Anna's stomach twisted painfully. They had promised each other privacy, vowed to protect their marriage from the merciless glare of cameras. She remembered every detail of their secret wedding in Florence—the quiet chapel lit with soft candles, Adrian whispering his vows in a trembling voice only she could hear, the feeling of being chosen, cherished, his forever.
And now? She was invisible. Watching the world claim her husband for someone else.
The phone slipped from her hand onto the sheets. Anna buried her face in her palms, struggling to breathe.
The bedroom door creaked open. Adrian stepped in, his grey joggers clinging to his long legs, hair damp with sweat from his morning run. He looked breathtakingly casual, as if the world outside wasn't on fire.
"Morning, love," he said softly, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.
Anna turned her face away. The gesture, so intimate, stung. "Morning? Adrian, have you checked the internet?"
He froze. She shoved the phone into his hands. His brow furrowed as he scrolled, his jaw tightening with each headline.
"Damn it," he muttered. Tossing the phone onto the nightstand, he met her eyes with forced calm. "It's nothing. A publicity stunt. You know how studios are—they'll do anything to stir hype before a movie drops."
"Publicity stunt?" Her voice cracked. "Adrian, the world thinks you're in love with her."
He sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for her hands. His touch was warm, grounding—but Anna stiffened.
"Anna," he said, voice low and steady, "you know me. You know my heart. I love you. Scarlet is just a co-star. Nothing more."
Anna searched his face, desperate for reassurance. And there it was—sincerity, raw and unshaken, shining in his eyes. But the ache in her chest didn't ease. It wasn't his love she doubted—it was the silence their secret forced on her.
Her voice trembled. "Do you know how hard this is? To watch the world claim you, while I have to stay invisible? To smile on red carpets like you're just another stranger standing beside me?"
Adrian's expression softened, guilt shadowing his features. He pulled her into his arms, his scent enveloping her, steady and familiar. "I'll fix this, Anna. I swear. Just…trust me."
She wanted to. God, she wanted to believe him. She closed her eyes, letting the rhythm of his heartbeat steady her, but images of Scarlet's bright smile and their so-called "chemistry" wouldn't fade.
Their secret had always been their shield, but now it felt like a prison. She couldn't scream the truth. She couldn't tell the fans that Adrian Cross was already hers. And worse—what if people wouldn't believe her, even if she did? Hollywood thrived on illusions.
"Fix it how?" she whispered into his chest. "By pretending harder? By smiling for the cameras while I wait at home, watching them ship you with someone else?"
He tilted her chin up, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "By being smarter than them. By protecting what's ours. They can't touch us if we don't let them."
Anna wanted to believe that, too. But as his words sank in, another question pressed against her lips, unbidden. "Do you ever regret it?"
"Regret what?" His brows furrowed.
"Keeping us hidden. Pretending we're not…this." Her hand gestured weakly between them.
His grip tightened on her fingers. "Never. You're the only thing real in my life. Everything else—the cameras, the awards, the headlines—it's noise. But you?" His voice broke, just slightly. "You're my home, Anna."
Her heart squeezed, torn between love and fear. She kissed his knuckles, clinging to his words like a lifeline. But deep inside, doubt whispered—what if love wasn't enough against the weight of fame?
The sharp trill of his phone shattered the fragile silence.
Adrian glanced at the screen, and Anna's blood ran cold. The name flashing in bold letters made her stomach drop.
Scarlet Vane.
For a moment, he didn't move. His hand hovered over the phone, hesitation flickering in his eyes.
Anna's chest constricted. Her voice came out barely a whisper. "Are you going to answer it?"
Adrian's jaw flexed. "It's probably about the movie—"
"Or about the headlines plastered everywhere." Bitterness crept into her tone before she could stop it.
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Anna—"
But she had already pulled away, the warmth of his embrace replaced with a hollow chill. The headlines weren't just rumors anymore. Scarlet was calling him, reaching into their sanctuary, pulling him further into the world that had no place for her.
And in that instant, Anna knew—this was only the beginning.