Ariel had expected eyes on her. She had not expected them to burn.
The morning began like any other: cameras flashing, fans screaming, the city buzzing beyond the tinted glass of the car. But when they arrived at the studio, something in the air felt sharp, like a knife waiting.
She spotted her first real rival before anyone said a word.
Maya.
An actress known for beauty, poise, and a career built on calculated charm. She smiled at Jaxon as he walked past—perfect, practiced, untouchable. Then her eyes landed on Ariel.
The smile faltered. Just slightly.
Ariel felt it immediately: disapproval. Jealousy. Possession.
The first strike came in whispers.
"Who's she?" Maya asked, voice smooth as silk but laced with ice.
Jaxon's jaw tightened. "She's… my assistant."
"She doesn't look like much," Maya said, tilting her head. "Does she even understand the life she's stepping into?"
Ariel's cheeks flushed, but she met her gaze steadily.
"I understand more than you think," she said.
Jaxon stepped between them. "That's enough."
Maya's eyes narrowed. "Don't forget who built this world."
A subtle warning. Or a threat. Ariel didn't know which.
Backstage, the whispers followed her like shadows.
Fans had noticed. Social media exploded again:
Who is she?
Is she even qualified to be with him?
She's just using him.
Jaxon deserves better.
Ariel's chest tightened. Each comment was a punch. Each photo a reminder: she was being judged for existing.
Jaxon noticed. He never had to ask.
"You can't control them," he said softly, taking her hand in the quiet moments between tasks.
"I know," she replied, voice low. "But I can't stop feeling like I'm already failing."
"You're not failing," he said firmly. "They're just loud. And loud doesn't always matter."
But the first strike wasn't just words.
Later, she discovered it: her email account hacked, personal details leaked online.
A warning. Clear and cold:
Leave him. Now. Or it will get worse.
Her hands shook. This was no longer just a game.
She looked up at Jaxon.
He didn't need explanation.
"They're testing us," he said quietly. "They want to see if you'll break first."
"I don't know if I can—"
"Yes, you can," he interrupted gently. "Because you're stronger than they think. And stronger than I gave you credit for."
Ariel swallowed.
Strength. Responsibility. Fear. Love she wasn't ready to name.
It was all tangled together in a way she couldn't unravel.
That night, alone in her room, she stared at the city lights below.
The shadows were longer now.
The game had begun.
And somewhere beyond the bright screens and flashing cameras, someone was already planning the next strike.
Ariel understood finally: fame wasn't glamorous.
It was dangerous.
And now, it was personal.