The Superstar Heiress's Unscripted Romance

The next morning, a sleek black Maybach pulled smoothly up to the rear entrance of a top-tier Hollywood photography studio.

Eleonora stepped out of the vehicle. She wore massive black sunglasses that covered half her face. Maeve flanked her, acting as a physical shield.

Eleonora's stiletto heels clicked sharply against the concrete. She radiated a freezing, unapproachable aura.

Inside the studio, the frantic crew members immediately stopped what they were doing. They cast nervous, awestruck glances at her as she walked past.

She ignored the whispers. She walked straight down the long corridor toward the VIP dressing room that bore her name on a gold plaque.

Maeve hurried half a step ahead and pushed the door open. Eleonora stepped one foot inside, and her body instantly froze.

The VIP dressing room was spacious and luxurious. But sitting right in the center, occupying her personal makeup chair, was a woman in a cheap-looking, fluffy pink tulle dress.

It was Adela Booth. Adela was a B-list actress, a notorious rival who had spent her entire career desperately trying to copy Eleonora's style and steal her roles.

Adela was looking in the vanity mirror, having a makeup artist touch up her lip gloss. She saw Eleonora's reflection in the glass.

Adela immediately spun around in the chair. She stretched her lips into a sickly sweet, entirely fake smile.

"Oh, Nora! It's been so long," Adela chirped, her voice artificially high-pitched.

Eleonora slowly reached up and pulled off her sunglasses. Her deep blue eyes were chips of solid ice.

She ignored the greeting entirely. "Why are you sneaking around in my private dressing room like a rat?" she demanded, her voice cutting through the air like a blade.

Adela pouted, feigning innocence. "The communal dressing rooms out there are just so crowded, Nora."

Eleonora didn't buy the act for a second. She tilted her head slightly and looked at Maeve. "Go find the floor manager. Tell them to clear the trash out of my room immediately."

Adela's fake smile cracked. Her face flushed. She took a step forward, dropping the sweet act.

She lowered her voice, her tone dripping with venom. "Did you lose your movie role because of your little scandal? Is that why you're reduced to doing reality TV to save your career?"

Eleonora raised one perfect eyebrow. Her eyes slowly and deliberately scanned Adela from head to toe, a look of utter disgust on her face.

She let out a short, mocking laugh. "Even on my worst day, I wouldn't be caught dead wearing something that looks like it was ripped off the windows of a cheap Vegas motel."

Adela's face turned a mottled shade of red and green. Her hands balled into tight fists, grabbing handfuls of her pink skirt.

Before Adela could scream, the show's director sprinted into the room, sweating profusely.

He instantly felt the suffocating tension in the air. He bowed his head repeatedly, trying to defuse the bomb.

"Ms. Carlisle, I am so sorry for the mix-up. Dressing Room Number One just opened up across the hall. It's much larger. Please, let me escort you."

Eleonora let out a cold scoff. She shoved her sunglasses back onto her face and turned on her heel.

As she walked past Adela, Eleonora subtly shifted her weight. She drove her shoulder hard into Adela's collarbone.

The physical impact sent Adela stumbling backward. She nearly tripped over her own heels, forced to swallow her scream of outrage.

Eleonora walked into Dressing Room Number One. Maeve immediately slammed the door shut and locked it, cutting off the outside world.

Eleonora sat down heavily in the massive leather chair. She took a deep breath, forcing the anger down into her stomach.

She closed her eyes, letting the terrified, top-tier makeup artist begin working on her face.

Half an hour later, she stepped out onto the soundstage wearing a breathtaking, blood-red gown. The moment the spotlights hit her, she transformed. She delivered a flawless, dominating performance for the cameras, proving exactly why she was a superstar.