I'm pursued by superstar after betrayed

It was ten p.m. when Raiden Evans walked through his front door, and sure enough—there was someone waiting for him in the living room, just like always. He tossed his coat carelessly to the nearest servant, who spotted the lipstick stain on the collar instantly, tucked it out of sight quick, and acted like he’d seen nothing. Every single staff in this mansion knew about Raiden’s little side affair, but they all had the good sense to keep their mouths shut.

"Madam came home this afternoon," the servant informed him.

Raiden just grunted in reply. He was halfway up the stairs when the front door swung open, the click of the latch echoing down the hall. Violeta Reynolds was home. Her hair was a little wind-tousled as she bent to slip off her heels, and the movement stretched the line of her long, pale legs.

Raiden caught the faint flush on her cheeks, and his brows pulled down. "You’ve been drinking?"

Violeta almost never drank outside the house. If she wanted a drink, she’d rather have it alone in the privacy of their bedroom. She steadied herself on the newel post, a little jittery about rolling in this late, but by the time she crossed the threshold, she’d already masked any loose emotion with that cool, calm composure she always wore. No one cared if she came home early or late, anyway.

But Raiden didn’t smell liquor on her—he caught the faint, bitter tang of coffee instead. He stepped forward and tugged her close against his chest. "Drowning your sorrows in extra caffeine, huh? What’s eating at you that you can’t tell your own husband?"

Raiden had always been like this: slippery, soft-spoken, never letting his mask slip. Even while carrying on an affair right under their roof, he still kept up the image of the perfect, dignified CEO. Both of them knew which lines were better left uncrossed. At least this way, Violeta still got to be "Mrs. Evans," and everyone still treated her with the proper respect.

She pushed him away gently. "Just work stuff at the studio."

It wasn’t anything earth-shattering, and Raiden let her pull away. He’d stopped enjoying touching her a long time ago. The last time they’d been intimate was two whole months back. Don’t get him wrong—Violeta was stunning, that perfect mix of soft innocence and smoky heat. But she was too uptight for his taste. And in his circle, that brand of icy beauty was a dime a dozen. Raiden had gotten bored ages ago.

"Studio having problems?"

His voice was flat and uninterested as he climbed the stairs, thumb already flying over his phone screen, replying to a text from someone who wasn’t her. Violeta’s throat tightened, but she followed him up to their shared bedroom anyway. She watched him, and she knew exactly who he was texting: Lenora Kelly. When she stepped into the room, Raiden’s easy smile dimmed just a little, and he hit end on the call. "You need something?"

Violeta tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, her voice soft and steady. "I need access to some resources at Bright Horizon Entertainment. It’s one of your subsidiaries, right?"

His fingers never stopped tapping across his screen, but his gaze lifted to lock on hers. Violeta almost never asked him for anything, so this request hung awkward between them. Still, her spine was straight, her resolve clear.

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Raiden’s lips. "Sure. Just don’t go overboard."

Violeta mumbled a quiet thank you, then turned to grab her pajamas for a shower. Raiden’s arm wrapped around her waist before she could move, his lips brushing the curve of her neck. "No need to be so formal, baby. Sharing resources with your husband is what I’m for, isn’t it?"

Her heart skipped a single stupid beat—then another scent hit her, sweet and floral, not hers. Someone else’s perfume, clinging to his shirt. Raiden never bothered sugarcoating anything. People were just disposable toys to him, anyway.

His phone rang again, *Lenora* blaring bright on the screen, but he acted like he didn’t see it. He pressed a light kiss to her cheek. "Work emergency. Gotta pull an all-nighter at the office."

Violeta said nothing. She just lowered her head and stepped past him into the bathroom, scared if she spoke too loud he’d take back his approval. She added, soft, "I already know one of the directors over at Bright Horizon."

Raiden kept walking toward the door, waving it off like it was no big deal. "Fine by me. Just don’t get tangled up in all that stupid celebrity drama."

As the words left his mouth, he caught the irony of it, and huffed a laugh. "Tough times build character, right? Maybe you’ll have fun with it."

Half joke, full knife to the gut. He knew damn well Violeta would never stoop to his silly little cheating games.

Once the door clicked shut behind Raiden, Violeta pulled out her phone to call Charlie Snyder, the director at Bright Horizon. "Charlie, it’s Tessa."

Tessa was her stage name. "Violeta Reynolds" was too stuffy, too tied to the Evans family. When she and Leighton first decided to dip their toes into the entertainment industry, she’d created this separate identity for herself. Anyone who knew knew better than to go running their mouth about it.

"I’m bringing someone in for an audition tomorrow. Thanks a million," she said, then ended the call and stared out the window at the glowing city skyline, dragging in a deep breath.

She knew Raiden’s every habit inside and out. His name was carved into her bones, and leaving it all behind was going to hurt like ripping flesh off muscle. But it was time. Time to stop playing the quiet, obedient trophy wife just to get by.

She pulled up Quincy Lawrence’s contact—an up-and-coming actor Leighton had recommended—and sent him a friend request on WhatsApp.

He replied right away, and straight up turned her down. She realized she’d forgotten to introduce herself, so she sent a correction: *Quincy, it’s Violeta Reynolds.*

*Tomorrow morning, come meet a director with me. He’s casting a supporting role.*

Her text was blunt and to the point. She’d seen his work, thought the kid was insanely talented—even if he was a little too standoffish, a little too stubborn for his own good.