Bound By Contract: The Superstar's Secret Wife
Allyson was the most hated actress in Hollywood, forced to wear a cheap, tearing gown after America's sweetheart, Joanne, stole her S-tier role.
During a red carpet disaster, Allyson tripped and fell—straight into the arms of the untouchable megastar, Byron Estes.
The internet exploded, accusing Allyson of faking the fall to seduce him. Drowning in bad press and desperate to pay her agency's termination fee, she signed a reality TV contract. She was forced to play the desperate, clingy villain, acting as a pathetic stepping stone for Joanne and Byron's highly anticipated on-screen romance.
"You could throw yourself at Byron a hundred times, and you'd still never make it into his bed," Joanne mocked.
What Joanne and the furious public didn't know was that three years ago, when Byron was in a horrific crash, Joanne had abandoned him. It was Allyson who stayed.
Even more absurd? Allyson and Byron were actually secretly married, bound by a multi-million dollar NDA.
Determined to play her villainous role and get paid, Allyson memorized a book of cringe-inducing pickup lines, ready to disgust her secret husband on live television.
"The stars are in the sky. But you... are in my heart."
She expected the ice-cold superstar to push her away in disgust. Instead, when another male guest got too close to her, Byron completely shattered his untouchable facade, his eyes burning with a lethal, undeniable possessiveness that sent the internet into absolute chaos.
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Chapter 4
The pre-show banquet was held in a massive, glittering ballroom in the Hollywood Hills.
Allyson stood alone near a towering champagne fountain, wearing a borrowed, out-of-season dress. She took a slow sip of her drink, watching the room.
In the center of the hall, Joanne was surrounded by a circle of directors and producers, soaking in their praise like a sponge.
Joanne spotted Allyson. A malicious gleam lit up her eyes. She broke away from her circle and strutted over, a group of sycophants trailing behind her.
Joanne stopped a few feet away, her eyes raking over Allyson's dress.
"Oh, Allyson," Joanne said, her voice a sickeningly sweet pitch. "Is that from last year's clearance rack? It looks so... rustic."
The group behind Joanne snickered loudly. Heads turned in their direction.
Joanne stepped closer, dropping her voice to a venomous whisper. "You could throw yourself at Byron a hundred times, and you'd still never make it into his bed."
Allyson didn't flinch. She let out a soft, dark chuckle. She took another sip of champagne, her eyes locking onto Joanne's.
"At least I don't have to sleep with casting directors to steal roles," Allyson said, her voice carrying clearly over the ambient music.
Joanne's face paled. She instantly widened her eyes, letting tears pool in them, playing the victim.
Whispers broke out around them. People pointed at Allyson, muttering about her jealousy and toxic behavior.
Joanne leaned in again, her voice trembling with fake hurt. "Byron will always love me. I'm his past, and I'm his future. You're just a joke."
Allyson's grip on her glass tightened until her knuckles turned white.
Allyson took a sudden step forward, closing the distance between them until she was practically in Joanne's personal space. She lowered her voice to a deadly, hushed whisper meant only for Joanne and the two sycophants closest to her.
"His past?" Allyson asked softly, her eyes glinting like shattered glass. "You mean three years ago? When he was in that car crash, lying in a hospital bed with his career on the line, and you bought a one-way ticket to Europe to abandon him?"
The words landed like a precision strike. The smugness on Joanne's face died instantly. Joanne's perfect mask cracked, her mouth opening and closing like a suffocating fish.
Before Joanne could formulate a lie, the heavy oak doors of the ballroom swung open.
Byron walked in.
He wore a dark charcoal suit, his presence so commanding it sucked the oxygen out of the room. He looked like a king stepping into a room full of peasants.
Joanne's eyes lit up. She plastered on a tragic, beautiful smile and rushed toward him, her dress flowing behind her.
"Byron," she breathed softly, reaching her hand out to touch his arm.
Byron didn't even break his stride. His eyes looked straight through her as if she were completely invisible.
Joanne's hand hovered in the empty air. A few muffled laughs echoed from the crowd.
Byron walked straight past her, his heavy footsteps echoing on the marble floor. He stopped directly in front of Allyson.
Allyson's breath caught in her throat. She braced herself, assuming he was going to defend his ex-girlfriend.
Byron looked down. His dark eyes bypassed her face and landed directly on her right ankle, which was still slightly swollen from the red carpet fall.
"Can you stand steady?" his voice was a low, icy rumble, but loud enough for the entire silent room to hear.
The crowd was paralyzed. The untouchable superstar was publicly showing concern for the most hated woman on the internet.
Joanne stood frozen in the background, her face contorted with raw, ugly jealousy.
Allyson's brain scrambled. Was this a test? Was he trying to see if she would break the NDA?
She took a deliberate step backward, creating distance. She forced a polite, distant smile.
"Thank you for your concern, Senior. I am perfectly fine."
The word Senior hit Byron like a physical blow. The temperature around him plummeted. His eyes darkened into a dangerous, storm-filled black.
He stared at her for one long, suffocating second. Then, without a single word, he turned on his heel and walked toward the VIP section, leaving the entire room in a state of shock.