I'm pursued by superstar after betrayed

Violeta Reynolds’ chest twisted with a sharp pang of guilt. "Why don’t we sit down and grab something to eat first?"

Leighton Howell’s face lit up. "Is your husband joining us? Last time we talked, you said he didn’t want to come to work events anymore."

Violeta flinched. She hated digging into the messy, ugly details of her marriage. High society has an unspoken rule—you keep all your dirty laundry locked behind closed doors. It was a lesson her family had drilled into her since she was a kid.

She tugged up a small, forced smile. "He’s not coming. What was his name again, anyway?"

Leighton blinked, confused for a second—before another voice cut through the awkward silence.

"It’s Quincy Lawrence."

Quincy stated the name flatly, not meeting anyone’s eye.

Violeta’s lips twitched up just a little. "Ah, right. Quincy. I’ll be sure to remember this time."

Leighton leaned in and whispered, "How do you forget? You’re the one who introduced him! How on earth do you blank on his name?"

Heat crawled up Violeta’s neck. To be honest, she really had forgotten. Lately, every thought in her head had been swallowed whole by Raiden Evans. She hadn’t had any brain space left for anyone else.

She took a deep breath, her smile staying steady. "Leighton, should we order some food to go for later?"

Leighton hesitated, then nodded. "I’ve lived in high society long enough—anything works for me."

Leighton was always blunt; she hadn’t meant that to come off sarcastic.

It hit Violeta then—over the years, she’d drifted so far from regular social life she barely felt like she fit in anymore.

As they walked toward the exit, she asked, "This new gym setup—was that Quincy’s idea?"

"Yep, Quincy hates going out much. He owns the whole top floor, so we just converted it. Kids these days, always full of energy, y’know?"

Quincy walked silently right beside her, tugging a hat on casually. Even with him saying nothing, that jaw-dropping good looks of his made him impossible to miss.

When they got to Violeta’s car, Leighton gestured playfully at the passenger seat, and Quincy immediately stepped back, politely waving Violeta forward.

He paused for a split second, glancing at Violeta, then just stood by the open door waiting.

Violeta smiled. "Hop in. It’ll be good for us to get to know each other better anyway."

He dipped his lashes, and slipped quietly into the seat.

Raiden Evans always took that passenger seat. Out of pure muscle memory, Violeta reached over to buckle Quincy’s seatbelt for him.

His whole body went rigid. His fingers curled tight at his side, and he just stared out the window, not saying a word.

When Violeta clicked the buckle into place, it hit her what she’d done. This wasn’t Raiden. He didn’t need her to do that for him.

She pulled her hand back quickly, typed Leighton’s address into the GPS, and pulled out of the parking lot.

Leighton was never one to shut up, and she piped up right away: "Quincy, are you working on a new show? You’ve booked so many gigs lately. Even if they’re not lead roles, the hype’s real—our whole studio’s staying afloat because of you, kid."

Violeta felt a twist of regret. If she’d known how much raw talent the studio had, she would’ve connected him with some of her director contacts ages ago.

But ever since she got married, she’d completely checked out of the entertainment industry.

Quincy, the man in the passenger seat, kept his head down. He probably hadn’t even picked up on Violeta’s little moment of regret.

Leighton threw her hands up dramatically. "Seriously, Violeta—are you just done with film and TV now? This was your passion! Why throw it all away for a marriage? Does your husband even care that you’re giving up the thing you love most?"

Violeta’s knuckles went white where she gripped the steering wheel. A heavy, helpless feeling settled deep in her chest. She had nowhere to put all that weight.

As the car rolled up to a red light, Violeta opened her mouth to change the subject—then she noticed another car pulling up right beside them.

Through the half-down window, she spotted a sharp, distinguished-looking man with a white carnation pinned to his lapel. A woman was perched on his lap, murmuring something against his neck and kissing a slow path up to his Adam’s apple.

He laughed and tilted his head out of the way, his gaze soft and full of adoration.

Violeta knew that man. She wrenched her gaze away, shoving down the sharp, burning ache in her chest.

Raiden Evans had always been all business, never let anyone distract him from work. And here he was, making out in a car like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Leighton glanced over, clicked her tongue. "That car’s at least two mil. Some people really do have too much money. And they look good together—handsome guy, pretty girl. Wait, Violeta—isn’t that… your husband?"

The light turned green. Violeta pressed her foot down on the gas.

Leighton’s mouth dropped open, and she repeated, "Violeta, that was your husband, right?"

Violeta let out a slow breath. Surprisingly, she felt a little lighter. At least now she didn’t have to hide it anymore. "Yeah, I saw him. He’s cheating."

Leighton made a small, awkward "oh" sound, then fumbled for the right words. "When did you find out?"

She’d just finished asking when Violeta pulled up to the rented house they were heading to.

"Last night. Somebody sent me a text."

Quincy’s hand was already on the car door handle. He paused, then quietly pressed the lock button down again.