LOGINOne Year Ago
The Rivera estate was too quiet. Serena stepped out of the sleek black car, her stilettos stabbing into the cobblestone like they had a score to settle. They wobbled when it got stuck in the gap between cobblestone as she walked closer. Reflecting much of her own feelings. She didn’t want to be here. Not tonight. Not ever. Her body still ached from the fourteen hour shoot she’d just wrapped. Makeup clung to her skin like a mask she didn’t have the energy to rip off. And yet, she had come. Because when Robert Rivera said Come home Now, you didn’t ignore the call. Not even if you hated the man on the other end of the line. The mansion’s front doors opened before she could even lift a hand to knock. “Miss Serena,” the butler greeted with a stiff nod. Always too polished. Always too professional. Like everything in this house used to be—before it began to fall apart. "How are you, John?" Serena asked, soft and polite. John never married, choosing to serve the Rivera estate and Rivera name throughout his life. Serena tried to convince him to leave and find a better life for himself. He'd instead told her his life was here in these estate walls and the smell of that garden her mother used to love so much. "I'm good as always, Miss Rivera." John replied. He disregarded her request to call her by her name for years. “Your father is waiting in the study.” Of course he was. Serena nodded at John before pushing in. Her heels echoed sharply through the once-grand halls. She didn’t miss how empty it all felt now. The Rivera legacy might’ve ruled entertainment once along with other names in Industry, but Serena could see the cracks. The quiet layoffs, the missing antiques, the absence of staff. Her father’s empire was bleeding. And this house—this cold, hollow place that used to be her sanctuary—felt more like a tomb now. She paused outside the study for a beat. Smoothed her coat. Lifted her chin. Pushed the exhaustion out of her expression. Then she walked in. Robert Rivera didn’t even look up. One hand cradled a crystal glass, the other flipping lazily through a thick file—financials, most likely. She could practically feel the dollar signs bleeding off the page. “You called,” she said, her voice cool, her body still near the door. “Come sit.” Not a request. A command. She moved slowly, every step toward him peeling something invisible off her skin. She sat down across from him in the leather chair that had been occupied by many men who offered to buy her off him to feel comfortable. He finally looked up. “You look tired.” “Long shoot,” she replied, matching his tone with one of her own. He didn’t care. Not really. So, he turned back to the file. “Any projects lined up?” Serena’s spine tensed. “No,” she said, quietly. And braced for the strike. Not a physical one—though that wasn’t impossible with him—but the verbal kind. The disappointment. The dismissal. The anger that always came when she wasn’t good enough. But it didn’t come. Instead, he smiled. That thin, dangerous kind of smile that made her skin crawl. “Good.” Her heart stuttered. Good? Robert leaned back, like this was a casual conversation and not a chess game he’d already won. “You’ll be acting in this one next.” A ping vibrated from her phone. She looked down—he nodded. Permission to check. The notification opened to an article from Hollywood’s Report. Her eyes scanned the headline. > Lucian Vale's Secret Film Project? Whispers Point to Hollywood’s King and Queen Reuniting on Screen. Hollywood may be on the brink of its next cinematic obsession — and all signs point to Lucian Vale. The notoriously private Vale Studios head has remained out of the public eye for months, but new insider chatter suggests he’s quietly assembling what could be his most ambitious project yet — a sweeping romantic epic rumored to be filmed across three continents, backed by a jaw-dropping production budget, and destined for awards season. What’s caught everyone’s attention, though? The rumored cast. Multiple sources close to the studio have hinted that Aiden Wolfe and Seraphina Devacruax, often referred to as Hollywood’s King and Queen, have both been “in talks” for leading roles in what’s being described as a genre-bending psychological thriller with intense emotional stakes. The two haven’t shared the screen since their electric performance in Chasing Fireworks— and fans have been begging for a reunion ever since. “They’ve both cleared long-standing projects off their slates,” one industry source revealed. “It’s all lining up.” While no official statements have been released, whispers around Vale Studios suggest the script has been completed under tight security, with select readings held behind closed doors in Europe last month. A mysterious director — allegedly someone who “never works with studios” — is also rumored to be attached. Is this just wishful thinking from Hollywood insiders and overzealous fans? Or is Lucian Vale about to drop the biggest passion project the industry has seen in a decade? One thing’s for sure: if Wolfe and Devacruax do reunite under Lucian Vale’s cold-blooded brilliance, it won’t just break the internet — it’ll dominate the box office and awards circuit alike. Stay tuned. Something is brewing. Serena blinked. It couldn’t be real. “This is…” she trailed off. “Going to be the biggest film Hollywood’s seen in the last decade,” her father said. “High budget. International attention. Global press. It'll have the industry talking with Vale Studios backing.” “And?” Her throat felt tight. “What does this have to do with me?” He met her eyes then. And she saw it—the calculation, the hunger, the desperation he tried so hard to bury under expensive suits and neat whiskey pours. “You’re going to marry Lucian Vale.” The world stopped moving. The words echoed in the study like a loaded gun going off. She stared at her father, unable to speak, unable to breathe. And then, like he hadn’t just turned her world upside down, he added— “You’ll replace Seraphina Devacruax in this project.” Her blood turned to ice. “What?” The word tumbled out of her mouth, half laugh, half disbelief. “Why would they replace Seraphina Devacruax? Let alone… with me?” It was absurd. Unhinged. Seraphina was Hollywood royalty—the golden queen, the award-winning, box office darling. Serena was—well, her father’s daughter. A rookie. Blacklisted. Tabloid fodder. “You’re not replacing her because you’re better,” her father said plainly, as if that wasn’t already obvious. “You’re replacing her because of who you’ll belong to.” Her stomach turned. “This project is Lucian’s obsession. It’s his first personal solo production. He’s investing millions into it, overseeing every detail. And he wants control. Total control. Of the vision. Of the story. Of the cast.” Serena stared, pulse thudding. “Then why would he agree to this?” “Because you’ll be his wife.” There it was again. That word. Wife. “You can’t be serious,” she said, voice low. “He doesn’t do anyone's bidding." Serena knew. Getting Lucian Vale to do anything he doesn't want to do, is considered a myth in Hollywood. “Sure he does, because we made a deal.” Her stomach dropped. “What deal?” she asked quietly. Robert finished his drink and stood, walking toward the towering window that overlooked the empty driveway. “A long time ago, when the Rivera name still meant something. I helped his father keep his empire clean. Lucian owes me. And I called in that favor now.” Serena’s throat went dry. “You sold me off like a bargain chip.” "No,” he said simply. “I positioned you to be irreplaceable.” She laughed, sharp and bitter. “You positioned me to be his problem.” Robert turned slowly, eyes like cold steel. “You’ve already been everyone else’s problem, haven’t you? The indie projects, the low ratings, the men you wouldn’t let buy you. You think this industry rewards integrity?” She looked down and said nothing. He walked closer, his voice like poison wrapped in silk. “I am giving you a legacy. A second chance. And this marriage—it will save us both.” Her eyes flashed. “So that’s it. You’re broke.” The silence was answer enough. Her suspicions were right. “And Lucian agreed?” she whispered. “He just—what? Wants a wife to puppet into his perfect picture?” "He has no choice, though I suspect he has his own rules, which is why he called in a meeting between all of us." Serena gulped without a sound. "You could just make him give me the film offer, Dad. I don't need to marry him." Robert Rivera gave her a look. "Lucian Vale is a cold blooded tycoon, Serena. As long as one isn't tied to his family name, he'll show no mercy and spare no kindness. “Although, Lucian agreed because he’s a businessman first. And right now, he has a problem—Hollywood's divas. Seraphina’s team has been playing hardball. Leaking rumors. Demanding producer credits. Lucian’s patience is wearing thin. So when I offered him a solution—a marriage that would fix your career and give him complete casting power—he took it.” Serena felt sick. “I want you to survive in an industry that’s waiting for the Rivera's to disappear completely." Robert’s expression didn’t flinch. “I care about the Rivera name. You want to act? This is your last chance.” Serena stood. She didn’t know when her hands had started shaking. “And what happens if I say no?” Robert smiled faintly. You won’t. His gaze said what his words wouldn't. Her stomach soured. Serena didn’t say another word. But she imagined flipping the heavy crystal glass across the table. Letting it shatter against his perfect plans. She turned on her heel and walked out of the study, heels silent now against the cold marble floor.r/Fauxmoi Posted by u/StarstruckTeaSpiller 4h ago HOLY SHIT: Lucian Vale's Secret Marriage to Serena Rivera Exposed – Seraphina Devacraux Betrayed AGAIN? (Exclusive Docs Inside) Y'all, I just woke up to this bombshell from Hollywood Confidential and I'm shaking. Lucian Vale has been secretly married to Serena Rivera for TWO YEARS while the whole world thought he was engaged to Seraphina Devacraux. Docs include marriage cert, courthouse footage, the works. No prenup as far as we know. Serena's now legally Serena Vale. And get this—happened right after Serena wrapped her last indie project, where she was the lead actress. Smells like affair city and sleeping her way to the top. Seraphina's been playing the devoted fiancée this whole time—red carpets, interviews about "forever"—while Lucian's been living a double life. Poor girl survived Aiden Wolfe's ghosting years ago, and now this? Is Serena the villain here? Her mom's history (Elizabeth Rivera, infamous homewrecker) is all o
#EXCLUSIVE: Hollywood's Biggest Betrayal Exposed – Lucian Vale's Secret Marriage to Serena Rivera Shatters Seraphina Devacraux's World By Anonymous Insider | Hollywood Confidential | In the glittering, cutthroat world of Hollywood, where love stories are scripted and scandals are directed, few tales have captivated the public like the on-again, off-again romance between producer powerhouse Lucian Vale and pop icon Seraphina Devacraux. For years, the industry has wanted their union after watching their relationship unfold like a blockbuster romance: red carpet appearances, whispered wedding plans, and a narrative of second chances that seemed straight out of a fairy tale. But today, Hollywood Confidential can exclusively reveal the shocking truth behind this facade—a truth that exposes a web of deception, manipulation, and heartbreak. Documents obtained by our sources—including a verified marriage certificate, courthouse records, and timestamped security footage—confirm that Luci
The Wolfe Productions offices were a deliberate illusion: sleek glass facades that reflected the morning sun like mirrors, hiding the labyrinth of soundstages and edit bays within. From the outside, it looked like any other studio lot—efficient, impersonal, a machine grinding out content for the masses. From the inside, it was Aiden’s domain: every camera angle calculated, every conversation scripted, every alliance temporary. He had built it that way after his last "disappearance"—a strategic retreat that the trades had spun into volatility. Rumors were useful camouflage. Aiden arrived early, as always. Marcus drove him in silence, the black SUV gliding through the gates without a word to security. Marcus knew the routine: no announcements, no fanfare. Aiden slipped into the building through a side entrance, taking the private elevator to the top floor where his office overlooked the lot like a watchtower. He didn’t sit at the desk. He stood by the window, hands in his pocke
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a woman in possession of a good reputation must be in want of a clever publicist. But in Hollywood, where reputations are made and unmade with the speed of a trending hashtag, the want is mutual, and the cleverest publicist is Vivian Glass. Vivian resided in a house of glass and steel high in the Hollywood Hills, a modern edifice that seemed to float above the city like a watchful eye. The walls were transparent, the views panoramic, the security invisible yet absolute. Nothing entered or left without her knowledge. Nothing was said in her presence that she did not wish to be said. She was the queen of perception, the architect of narrative, the silent partner in every major career that had survived the last decade. And she was, above all things, Tina Devacraux’s most trusted ally. On the evening following the dinner at Tina’s residence, Vivian sat in her office—a room of white marble and black lacquer, lit only by the soft glow of th
Aiden Wolfe stood alone on the Mulholland balcony at 2:14 a.m., the city lights below him reduced to a distant, indifferent constellation. The mezcal glass in his hand had never been lifted to his lips; it was a prop, held for the aesthetic of contemplation, not for drinking. He did not need alcohol to dull edges—he had no edges that needed dulling. The rumors had always amused him: volatile, unpredictable, prone to vanishing acts that left careers and hearts in ruins. None of it was true. He was never volatile. He was precise. Every disappearance had been calculated. Every silence strategic. Every bridge he appeared to burn had been doused with accelerant only after he had already walked away with the matchbook. The world saw chaos because it was easier than admitting someone could move through Hollywood like water—colorless, odorless, slipping past every defense until the structure was already compromised from within. Tonight had been useful. Tina’s dinner had not been a c
Malibu – Tina Devacraux’s Private Residence 11:47 p.m. The dining room had emptied like a stage after the final curtain. Plates cleared, candles snuffed one by one until only two remained burning at the head of the table, their flames low and unsteady, casting long, wavering shadows across the ebony. The ocean outside kept its indifferent rhythm against the cliffs—crash, retreat, crash—while inside the house silence pressed in like a held breath. Tina Devacraux remained seated at the head, fingers laced loosely around the stem of her empty Sancerre glass, staring at the wilted orchid as though it owed her an explanation. She had not moved since the others left. She rarely did when she was thinking. The double doors opened again—softly this time, no dramatic entrance. Seraphina stepped through alone, shoes in one hand, the cream silk gown now slightly rumpled at the hem from the walk down the drive. She had sent Lucian ahead in the car with a quiet “I’ll follow.” He hadn’t argu





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