The Pop Queen's Ruthless Billionaire Fan

Eleanor threw her phone onto the leather sofa. She pressed her fingers against her temples, trying to push down the strange, suffocating feeling in her chest. Dominic Sterling felt like a massive predator circling her in the dark, and she had just willingly stepped into his cage.

She turned around. Three of the most ruthless entertainment lawyers in Los Angeles sat around her dining table. Stacks of legal documents covered the wood surface.

The lead attorney pushed his glasses up his nose. "Miss Vance, the forensic accountants confirmed it. Caleb Marsh used your joint accounts to funnel nearly five million dollars into his private LLC over the last two years."

The lawyer slid a piece of paper across the table. "Furthermore, he forged your signature on the renewal intent letter for the Perry Dalton luxury campaign. He attempted to transfer the contract to Isla."

Eleanor stared at the fake signature. Her blood boiled, but her face remained completely still. A cold, lethal smile touched the corners of her lips.

She picked up her heavy gold fountain pen. She pressed the nib into the paper, signing the lawsuit authorization with violent, sharp strokes. "I don't just want the money back. I want him charged with felony fraud. Burn him to the ground."

Brenda walked into the room, her phone pressed to her ear. She hung up and looked at Eleanor. "Perry Dalton is hosting a private charity gala tonight at his Malibu estate. Caleb is on the guest list. He's planning to officially introduce Isla to Perry tonight to lock in the contract."

Eleanor stood up so fast her chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor. "No one steals what belongs to me."

She marched straight into her massive walk-in closet. She needed armor. She bypassed the soft pastels and pulled out a vintage, blood-red haute couture gown. The dress featured a plunging V-neckline and a slit that ran all the way up her thigh. It was a dress designed to start a war.

Eleanor sat at her vanity. She applied a dark, matte red lipstick that made her look like she had just drank blood. She fastened a heavy diamond choker around her neck. When she stood up, she radiated an untouchable, terrifying power.

Nina stood in the doorway, her mouth hanging open. "El... you look like you're going to a murder."

"I am," Eleanor said coldly. She grabbed her black clutch, slid her feet into twelve-centimeter stilettos, and walked out the door.

An hour later, the black Maybach pulled up to the red carpet outside the Malibu estate. The ocean wind whipped through the palm trees. Dozens of paparazzi were lined up behind the velvet ropes, their cameras ready.

The bodyguard opened the car door. Eleanor stepped out. Her red dress caught the wind, snapping like a flag in a hurricane.

The paparazzi erupted. Camera flashes exploded like strobe lights, blinding the night. Reporters screamed her name, asking about the Instagram Live and Caleb's cheating.

Eleanor ignored them all. She kept her chin high, her face an unreadable mask of absolute arrogance. She walked up the marble steps and entered the mansion.

The grand ballroom was packed with Hollywood elite. The moment Eleanor stepped through the double doors, the ambient chatter died. Total silence swept across the room in a wave.

Every single pair of eyes locked onto her. Some looked shocked, some terrified, some hungry for drama. Eleanor didn't flinch. She picked up a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and scanned the room like a sniper looking through a scope.

She found her target on the outdoor patio near the infinity pool. Caleb stood there, his arm wrapped tightly around Isla's waist. They were laughing, talking to Perry Dalton, the billionaire brand owner. Isla wore a pure white lace dress, playing the role of the innocent angel.

Eleanor's grip on the crystal champagne flute tightened until her knuckles turned white. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the salty ocean air. She began to walk.

The crowd parted for her automatically, like the Red Sea. The heavy scent of expensive perfume and impending violence hung in the air.

Caleb turned his head. He saw Eleanor walking toward him. The fake smile on his face instantly melted into a look of pure panic.

Isla followed his gaze. All the color drained from her face. She shrank back, pressing herself against Caleb's chest.

Perry Dalton stopped talking. He took a sip of his scotch, his eyes gleaming with amusement. He stepped back, giving Eleanor the floor.

Eleanor stopped exactly three feet away from them. She looked at Caleb, then at Isla, her eyes devoid of any human warmth. Her red lips parted.

"Good evening," Eleanor said. The two words dropped into the silence like blocks of ice.