Forced from Fields to Fame: An Agricultural Expert's Turmoil in the Entertainment Industry

KISAREL.

I still heard his cold voice in my head as I stepped out of the taxi.

"Get your ass back here in two hours, if you want to keep your new position."

Mr. Oceans Stark’s words had a way of following me even in my sleep, like they were branded into my skin. Cold, merciless, and ruthless... Getting promoted from a receptionist to his personal assistant felt less like climbing the ladder and more like walking into a gilded cage.

It both excited and terrified me.

The pay was beautiful, and the perks were enviable. I would travel with him on business trips, see the world, and for once, escape the mess I’d been born into. But the price of it? Being tied to him almost every second of the day.

Mr. Oceans Stark, a man so ruthless he once shredded a senior executive’s twenty-year career in under five minutes without even breaking a sweat. He was escorted out in handcuffs, on charges Mr. Stark’s lawyers dug up overnight. One day, the man was running meetings, the next he was begging for bail money.

By then, everyone knew: one wrong step, and he could erase you from your career, your reputation, maybe even your freedom.

Still, today calls for celebration. And I had just about an hour to celebrate my new promotion with my fiancé, Jace, before packing my bags and meeting my boss at his private jet for our first business trip together.

I had already rehearsed every line I'd say to Jace the moment I pushed his door open.

He hadn’t answered my calls, but that only made the surprise sweeter. Jace always told me to let him know before visiting — rules I followed without question because I loved him, and because he said he loved me too. He was obsessive and possessive in ways I found... Thrilling? I never said no to him. Never once.

But today, just once, I would.

I clutched the promotion letter like it was a trophy, and walked through the gates with a smile so wide even the guard seemed taken aback.

"Good evening," I greeted, but he answered me in a weird kind of way that I didn't really want to read meanings into.

I adjusted my round glasses, clutching my handbag securely to my shoulder.

The moment I pushed the front door open, I came face to face with Tisha, the very maid Jace had refused to let go of, no matter how many times I'd told him I didn't like her. She seemed not to like me either, but tonight her face carried something different — pity, like I’d already lost a game I didn’t know I was playing.

“Hey…” Her voice was softer than I’d ever heard it, the word dragged out like a quiet warning.

That was strange.

“Hi, Tisha,” I replied, already heading for the stairs. “He’s in, right?” Not that I needed an answer.

She hesitated, wringing the edge of her apron. “You… might want to wait down here.” She stuttered, and I almost scoffed.

"Why?" I paused and looked at her over my shoulder, but she just stood there like she had seen a ghost.

I'd be a liar if I said uneasiness hadn't begun to spread through me at the weird behaviors of the staff.

My heart picked up an erratic rhythm, the kind that makes your palms sweat and your breath shorten, no matter how much you try to calm yourself. My rehearsed smile faltered instantly.

But I took in a shaky breath and told myself I was only being dramatic. If Jace were in any kind of danger, it would have been on the news already. So... No news... Meaning he was fine.

I forced a smile for myself, tightened my grip on the letter, and continued walking, even though my breath kept stuttering as though my own body knew a truth my mind didn't know.

The moment I approached his door, my legs went weak as I stopped dead in my tracks.

I heard something... A sound that made my stomach cave in on itself

"Fuck, baby, open up..." a moan, "Just like that. Fuck."

That was Jace's voice. It sounded more like a grunt and a moan put together. It wasn’t just his moan that punched my heart — it was the rawness of it, the sound of him unraveling in ways he had never once done with me.

Then I heard a voice that wasn’t mine.

"Jace... Yes, baby... Right there..."

And that was... That was Moonie. My oh-so-perfect cousin. The one who was supposed to be walking down the aisle with my boss, Mr. Oceanss Stark, in a matter of weeks.

My eyes became blurry, and my brain blurred too, because I didn't even know when I moved. My legs propelled me straight to the door, and my trembling hands gripped the knob before my brain could scream Don’t.

I pushed the door open with so much force that the hinges rattled.

And then the floor seemed to vanish beneath me, as I saw my fiancé and the "perfect" woman my boss was crazy about, lying totally naked on the floor.

She was on her hands and knees, hair wild, her head thrown back in shameless pleasure. Jace’s hands clamped her hips, driving into her with a hunger he had never once touched me with.

My chest constricted and my breath vanished as I struggled to speak.

"Jesus, Jace!" Try as I may, my voice only came out as a shaky whisper.

Jace froze. For a full second, he just stared at me, pale and stupid, before he jerked away from her and started fumbling for his shorts.

Moonie didn’t even flinch. She just dropped onto the floor, panting, her hair sticking to her sweaty face like she’d just finished a workout.

The air in the room was thick and sour. I could hear my own heartbeat thudding in my ears.

“What the hell is this?” My voice cracked halfway through. I was shaking so badly that the letter in my hand fluttered to the carpet.

Jace pulled the towel from the chair and wrapped it around his waist. “Arel — listen — it’s not —”

"What I think?" I scoffed and completed the words for him. “Not you inside my cousin?” I snapped, my throat burning.

Moonie laughed, letting out a low, ugly sound that scraped at my skin. “Oh, cut the bullshit, Jace. She walked in on us. The show’s over.”

“Shut the fuck up, Moonie,” he barked, eyes wild.

She rose slowly, completely unbothered, stretching her neck like a cat. “What did you expect, Kisarel? You really thought you could keep a man like Jace? Please.” She grabbed her dress from the vanity and slipped it on without looking away from me. “You’ve been too busy playing the good girl — glasses, neat hair, that stupid receptionist job — acting like brains make you desirable. Meanwhile, this man has needs. Real ones.”

My stomach twisted. “Stop talking.”

She stepped closer. “He told me himself. Said you’re boring in bed, that you blush when he touches you, that you act like sex is a favor instead of a need.”

“Moonie, I swear to God…” Jace’s voice came out like a growl.

She turned on him, smirking. “What? You’re going to hit me now? You already said you didn’t love her. Remember? You said even after we both get married, we’ll keep this going. Those were your words, baby.”

Jace lunged, grabbing her arm. “Shut up!”

I just stood there, watching the two of them — him, red-faced and desperate, her, grinning like she’d already won. Something cold spread through my chest until I couldn’t even feel my fingers.

“You both disgust me,” I said quietly.

“Arel, please...” Jace took a step toward me.

“Don’t.” My voice snapped. “Don’t come near me.” He froze. The look on his face — panic, guilt, something like fear — made me want to scream. Instead, I laughed, "Was this why you said I should always inform you before visiting? Oh, God." I broke down.

I wanted to run until my lungs gave out, hide somewhere no one knew my name, bury my face in a pillow that didn’t smell like him, and cry until my throat burned.

But everything I owned reminded me of Jace.

The sheets, the pillow, the stupid mug he bought for my desk.

I’d built my entire life around him these past two years, and now every inch of it felt contaminated.

Moonie tilted her head, “You’ll thank me one day. At least now you know what he really wants. Maybe start by dressing like a woman, not a twelve-year-old schoolboy. Jace hates your boring cardigans, big, shapeless gowns, and baggy skirts.”

My heart shattered again. Because Jace always told me he loved my clothes — that he liked that no man ever saw what was his.

I blinked at him, my voice small. “So that was a lie, too?”

He looked away, jaw tight, saying nothing.

I turned my attention to Moon, “You’re engaged to Mr. Stark, Moonie. Aren’t you even scared I might tell him about this?”

She laughed mockingly, “Oh, please. You? Tell him? You’ve never had the spine for that. You're just a pushover. The weak little orphan who should’ve been grateful we didn’t dump you in some shelter.”

She took a step closer, gazing dead into my eyes. Her tone was like acid. Every word burned.

I felt the sting crawl up my throat, but I bit it back. She wanted to see me break.

“And I know you won't do anything to tarnish the image of the family who took you in when your pathetic parents decided to check out early, and left you in this world to suffer!"

The vernon in her voice. God.

"So, dear Kisarel, you won’t say a word. You never do. That’s why people like me win and people like you just… exist."

She got me there. I owed Moon and her parents my life. I truly did. But God, I didn’t owe them my dignity. And let's see how far this goes.

I picked up my promotion letter. There was no point sharing the great news anymore. The celebration died the moment I opened that door.

I turned to Jace. He couldn’t even meet my eyes. “You know what’s funny? I used to think you were the one person who’d never humiliate me. Guess I was wrong.”

He reached for me again, stammering my name, but I stepped back. The movement felt like tearing myself out of glue.

“Don’t ever call me again.”

Now more than ever, I needed that business trip I had cursed some hours ago.