I'm pursued by superstar after betrayed

Leighton’s eyes brimmed with concern as she squeezed Violeta’s hand. "Vee, something about this whole mess feels off. Back in high school, I looked up to you. You were like a shining star—regal, straight out of a fairy tale."

Violeta glanced down, her lashes brushing soft against her cheeks. Truth be told, she’d never felt that regal. The world wrote off her sparkle as just a perk of her political adoption. Everyone in high society knew it: she’d been adopted to seal a business alliance, spending the first ten years of her life bouncing through the foster system.

These days, Raiden Evans sent her a fat monthly allowance. Half of it always went straight back to the foster home. She’d long stopped questioning how she ended up here; she just did her best to make it work. Back in school, she’d been the overachiever, always gunning for the top spot.

But some things can’t be forced. Reach too high, and you end up crashing harder than you ever imagined. She didn’t crave Raiden’s love anymore—she was just exhausted, desperate for five minutes to catch her breath.

Her phone buzzed. Raiden’s name lit up the screen. He only ever called when it mattered. She hesitated a beat before answering, and his familiar rough voice came through: "We’re having dinner tonight. Where are you?"

"Um… I’m at the hospital."

"Skip whatever that is. Come home. I’ll send Collins to pick you up."

Resigned to it, Violeta grabbed the new outfit Leighton had picked out for her and headed to the bathroom to change. Leighton jumped in immediately, "Are you crazy? You just got your stomach pumped, and you’re going off to meet him for dinner?"

Violeta’s face was paper-white. She sighed, "It’s Raiden’s family. I can’t blow this off."

Right now, these choices weren’t hers to make. She changed fast, freshened up, spritzed minty breath spray to kill any last trace of alcohol, and reminded Leighton gently, "Make sure Quincy locks in that contract with Darius tomorrow, then joins the production team."

Worry was written all over Leighton’s face. "Vee, if you keep pushing yourself this hard, you’re gonna break."

Violeta didn’t answer. She glanced over at Quincy, who’d been standing quiet in the corner. Worried today’s chaos would get to him, she added, "Quincy, don’t stress. Just do your best. This is our big break."

No one else could’ve landed a better role than this. He lifted his head, face pale, lips pressed tight into a thin line, fingers curling slightly at his side, his gaze drifting off to the window. Yeah, he was definitely the quiet type.

Violeta pulled a wobbly small smile. When she walked down the stairs, she saw Raiden’s car parked right out front. Hamza, his assistant, was in the driver’s seat. He got out and held the door open politely, "Ma’am. After you."

Violeta slid into the seat next to Raiden, who was hunched over a stack of documents in his lap. His gaze drifted instinctually past the window, up to the hospital floor they’d just left. The window there was empty, just a curtain fluttering, but he could feel it clear as day—a gaze staring back, full of mocking light. It set his teeth on edge.

His attention snapped back to Violeta as she settled in. He’d been half-observing her this whole time, and today her complexion was shockingly pale. When the car braked suddenly, she almost toppled right into him, and he reached out automatically to steady her, his palm coming to rest on her shoulder.

"When did you get so fragile?"

Violeta’s whole body went rigid. She closed her eyes, fighting the burning ache gnawing at her stomach, "I haven’t been feeling well lately."

"Was anyone with you at the hospital?"

The question sharper than it sounded on the surface.

Sure, Raiden often hinted she could see other people—but if she actually did? It would humiliate him, and he’d never accept it. He didn’t push the point any further.

Right then, Violeta looked so ghostly pale anyone could tell she was sick as a dog. Raiden bit back any unnecessary remarks. Clutching her throbbing stomach, she leaned back against the seat.

"Hurting that bad?" he asked.

She tried to smile, her voice faint as a breath, "Thanks for asking. If you’d called five minutes later, I probably would’ve already passed out."

Raiden blinked, surprised—he’d caught that sharp edge, hadn’t expected it. He’d missed something, that was for sure. Violeta looked away, took a deep breath to steady herself, and continued in a softer tone, "It’s just a stomach flare-up."

He raised an eyebrow, something unexpected tugging at his chest—weird, unfamiliar. He huffed a soft laugh and turned to watch the scenery blur past the window, "Vee, for a second there you had that spark back. Reminded me why I married you in the first place."

Embarrassment flickered in Violeta’s eyes. She knew Raiden never really cared for her. His ideal woman was someone else, after all. She lowered her lashes and stayed silent.

A second later, Raiden unexpectedly reached over and held out two painkillers. "Take these. It’s not that I don’t care."

Flustered by the gesture, a faint pink rose to Violeta’s cheeks before she heard him chuckle, and she caught that glint of mischievous satisfaction in his eyes. That was classic Raiden—fifteen years she’d been tangled in his web, forever pulled in by that dangerous charisma of his.

They walked into the Evans’ sprawling grand living room together. Raiden’s mother, Selah Young, was waiting impatiently, "Finally. Get in here, the coffee’s going cold."

Nola Evans’ face lit up the second she spotted Raiden, "Brother, you’re early today! Hey, did you bring me back that gift from your trip last week?"

Last week, Raiden had gone abroad. Back then, Violeta had waited up for him, checking her phone every five minutes, calling constantly to make sure he was okay. And what did he bring home? Lenora Kelly.

Raiden sat down, watching Violeta head for the kitchen. He flicked Nola lightly on the forehead, "Yeah, I got it. Just don’t bother Vee."

Nola rolled her eyes and whispered, "If you’re gonna be off gallivanting with Lenora Kelly, why don’t you just divorce Vee already? She’s just a glorified housekeeper to us, and we don’t even need one."

Raiden dangled a set of car keys—for a limited-edition Lamborghini worth almost two million bucks.

Nola immediately hooked her arm through his, voice turning sickly sweet, "Okay, okay! I won’t tease, I promise!"

Right as she finished talking, Violeta walked in carrying a pot of coffee. She was the kind of woman who handled everything: waited on the elders, kept the whole family running like clockwork. Even when her husband cheated right in front of her, she swallowed her pride and bit her tongue. That was why all these messy rich guys needed a wife like her to keep their lives stable.

Between connections to half a dozen other old money families, and the sudden rise of Clark Snyder, her nominal, rapidly rising brother, Violeta had locked her place in the family tight.

Clark was her brother in name only. The whole family pinned all their hopes on him, and he’d lived up to every expectation. He was friends with Raiden, after all.