Chapter 2

When I opened my eyes, all I saw was a stark white ceiling and the sharp stench of antiseptic.

I tried to move my fingers; an IV drip was taped to the back of my hand.

"You're awake?"

The voice came from my manager, David.

He was sitting in an armchair, scrolling through his phone with a thunderous expression.

"David..."

My throat felt raw and burned when I spoke.

"Don't 'David' me. I don't need your excuses."

David tossed his phone onto the bedside table.

"Maya, you really outdid yourself this time. Chasing Sean to his private elevator? What were you thinking?"

I struggled to sit up. "I wasn't chasing him. I was going to see a friend. He lives in that building too."

David rolled his eyes and let out a harsh laugh.

"Do you have any idea who lives in that tower?"

"Sean Hayes, and tech billionaires worth ten figures."

"You’re a D-lister who can barely make rent. You expect me to believe you have a friend on the penthouse floor?"

I bit my pale lip, utterly defenseless.

"Sean's team isn't letting this slide," David said, standing up and glaring down at me.

"His attorneys already sent a cease-and-desist. Stalking, harassment, and an immediate breach of the PR romance contract."

"The agency's top brass is furious. To calm down Sean’s fan base, they're terminating your contract."

The word "terminating" made my ears ring.

"Terminating?" My voice shook. "What about... the buyout penalty?"

"Three million dollars."

David delivered the number coldly.

"And for the record, I personally covered your hospital bill today."

"Maya, your career is dead."

David shook his head, grabbed his coat, and headed for the door.

"The agency says once you're discharged, you move straight into Block B. Consider it your final roof."

The door slammed shut.

I fell back onto the mattress, tears soaking into the pillow.

Three million dollars.

I couldn't even scrape together three thousand.

Right then, the phone beside my pillow vibrated.

It was my old phone, having revived after the nurse kindly plugged it into a charger.

The screen lit up.

The app icon displayed a red badge: "99+ unread messages."

All from the same person—"Shay."

[Baby, where are you? Why aren't you answering? Did you get heatstroke?]

[Where are you?! If you don't answer, I'm calling the police!]

[Why didn't you accept the transfer? Why did it bounce back?]

[Please don't scare me like this.]

Looking at those frantic texts, my frozen chest finally felt a spark of warmth.

On a day when my manager discarded me and the entire world treated me like trash...

There was still one person who treated me like his entire universe.

Sniffling, I typed back with trembling fingers.

[My phone died. Just got it working.]

The reply came almost instantaneously.

[You're finally back!]

[Do you have any idea how worried I was all night?! I nearly tore the whole neighborhood apart looking for you!]

[Don't ever disappear on me again, do you hear me?!]

Through the screen, I could almost picture him: eyes rimmed red, anxious, hurt, and frantic.

My heart softened. I typed back: [I know. I won't do it again.]

In that fleeting moment, all the cruelty Sean had inflicted on me seemed to fade.

As long as Shay was there, I felt like I could survive.

Three days later, I was discharged.

The agency didn't send a car. I dragged my broken suitcase—held together by layers of duct tape—back to the residential complex.

The property was divided into Block A and Block B.

Block A was the ultra-luxury tower for A-list elites, glittering and heavily guarded.

Block B consisted of cramped studios for washed-up acts and trainees, with peeling paint and hallways smelling of stale takeout.

I was assigned a tiny studio on the fourteenth floor of Block B.

It had just enough room for a single bed and a cheap wardrobe.

I walked over and pushed open the window.

From this angle, I had an unobstructed view right into Block A across the way.

The two buildings were so close you could practically see the clothes hanging on the balconies.

My eyes drifted up to the penthouse duplex at the very top.

That was Sean's place.

Night fell, and a light flickered on behind his floor-to-ceiling windows.

Staring at that glow, an unsettling thought crept into my mind.

I took out my phone and messaged Shay: [Shay, what color is the lighting in your living room?]

Two seconds later, his reply popped up.

[Warm amber. Super bright. Bright enough to keep you safe.]

My head snapped up.

My gaze pierced through the darkness, landing squarely on the penthouse windows across from me.

The light shining from inside was glowing warm amber.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips as I shook my head.

I had to be losing my mind.

Sean was an arrogant, cold-blooded, sharp-tongued superstar.

How on earth could he be the same sweet guy who called me "baby" every night and tried to send me a million dollars?