All Chapters of My Darling Superstar: Chapter 81 - Chapter 89

Emily sat on the edge of her bed, the photo still burned into her mind. The intimacy of it. The precision. The timing. Someone had been close—too close. And they hadn’t just stumbled upon her and Charles. They had waited. Watched. Captured.But who?Her thoughts spiraled.Could it be someone from Warren?Or worse—Old Master Frederick?Had they sent someone to monitor her? To make sure she stayed in line?She tried to think. Who had been at the camp? A student? A teacher? One of the guides?Her stomach twisted.What about Stanley?He had been kind. Attentive. Too attentive?She shook her head. No. Stanley had been with the group most of the time. But then again… so had everyone else.She needed to know who was behind this, as this would complicate her plans.So without hesitation, she typed a direct message to the number:[Come and face me if you are not a coward.]It was a challenge. But she was not ready for it, but she had to do it. Sooner or later, she had to do something. She woul

Emily’s bandaged hand rested just inches from his own. Charles hesitated, not daring to close the distance, afraid even the slightest touch might rupture the fragile stillness between them.Then—movement.A faint twitch of her fingers. Almost imperceptible.His breath caught. He leaned forward slowly, eyes locked onto her face. The steady rhythm of the monitors synced with the pounding in his chest. Her brow creased. Her lips parted.Then her eyes opened. Groggy. Blinking against the sterile light.But alive.A thin rasp escaped her throat, barely audible—just one word.“Charles?”It shattered him.He stood abruptly, voice shaking as he leaned closer. “I’m here,” he said, quietly urgent. “You’re safe now.”A weak smile tugged at her lips. “Did… did you cry?”Charles let out a soft, incredulous laugh, raking a hand through his hair. “You’re awake and somehow still insufferable.”She blinked with slow amusement. “Miracle recovery. Told you… adrenaline.”He laughed again, short and breat

After the flurry of remote mishaps and cheek-burning TV scenes, the room settled into a gentler hush. The warm lighting painted soft edges on the hospital walls as Emily curled beside Charles beneath the blanket.She tilted her head playfully and whispered, “What about… a game?”Charles didn’t lift his gaze from the pages of the book. “Sounds boring.”“Hmmm,” she said, feigning dramatic suspense. “I ask you a question, you answer. You ask me, I answer. Simple. Honest. No dodging.”He flipped another page, unconvinced. “Not interested.”Emily scooted closer. “Well, I’m very interested in yours.”That earned her a glance—a slow, calculated look.Charles smirked. “Emily Greyson, you better fall in line if you want to know my life. Don’t you know there’s a sea of women out there who'd sell their souls for a peek inside this mind?”The sarcasm was heavy, but she grinned.“Please…” she whispered. “Please?”He turned back, caught the pleading sparkle in her eyes—lashes impossibly long, gaze

Emily stood barefoot beside the car, the warm sand curling between her toes. The salty breeze tousled her hair as she looked out at the endless blue, her eyes wide with wonder. She inhaled deeply, the scent of the ocean wrapping around her like a memory.Then she turned to Charles.He stood there, hands in his pockets, watching her with that unreadable expression—half amusement, half something deeper.Without warning, Emily stepped closer.So close that their shoulders brushed.And then—on her toes—she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.A whisper of warmth.A spark.Before he could react, she was already pulling away, her eyes gleaming with mischief.“Yeahhh!” she shouted, throwing her hands in the air like a child set free.She ran toward the water, her laughter echoing across the shore, her hair flying behind her like a banner of joy. The hem of her dress fluttered around her knees as she splashed into the shallows, spinning once, arms wide, face tilted to the sun.Char

The first light of dawn crept gently through the thin curtains, casting a soft, golden hue across the small room. Dust motes danced lazily in the air, and the ceiling fan spun in slow, sleepy circles above them.Emily stirred first.Her lashes fluttered open, and for a moment, she didn’t remember where she was. The bed beneath her was too firm, the sheets too plain, the air too still. But then she felt it—the steady rise and fall of a chest beneath her cheek. The warmth of an arm wrapped around her waist. The familiar scent of him—clean, faintly woodsy, and unmistakably Charles.She blinked slowly.Her hand was still in his.Their fingers were still laced, even in sleep.She tilted her head slightly and found herself tucked perfectly into the crook of his shoulder, her body curved into his like they had always belonged there. His other arm was draped protectively around her, his grip loose but present, like even in sleep, he didn’t want to let go.Charles was still asleep.His face wa