All Chapters of The Billionaire’s Star : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

10 Chapters

Chapter 1

Olivia's POV "And... cut! That is a wrap on Forever After! Brilliant work, everyone!" The director’s voice boomed through the speakers. I stood on the altar of the faux-cathedral, my hand still tucked into the crook of my co-star’s elbow. The lace of the vintage designer gown was itching the skin off my collarbones. Fake rose petals drifted down from the rafters, sticking to my lip gloss. "You okay, Liv?" Liam, my on-screen groom, whispered. He smelled like peppermint and desperation. "I’m spectacular," I said, flashing the million-watt smile that had funded my parents' early retirement. I let go of his arm and turned away before he could see my eyes twitch. My phone was vibrating against my thigh, tucked into a hidden pocket in the tulle. I already knew what it was. Or rather, what it wasn't. It wasn't an apology from Justin. It was just another notification from the universe reminding me that after seven years, I had been traded in for a twenty-two-year-old yoga instructor named

Chapter 2

Olivia's POV Light. Too much light. It was aggressive, stabbing through my eyelids like tiny, golden bayonets. I groaned, trying to pull the duvet over my head, but my arms felt like they were made of lead. My mouth tasted like I had spent the night licking a dusty carpet. I rolled over, expecting to feel the familiar, lumpy mattress of my trailer or the overpriced silk sheets of my penthouse. Instead, I felt high-thread-count Egyptian cotton, the kind that costs more than most people’s rent, and the distinct lack of a hangover-curing smoothie. I pried one eye open. This was not my room. My room was a "shabby-chic" explosion of pink velvet and discarded scripts. This room was... gray. Very gray. Minimalist. It looked like the inside of a high-end refrigerator. Then, the memories hit me. The club. The tequila. The man with the greasy hair. The man with the granite jaw. I bolted upright, gasping, and immediately regretted it as my brain did a slow-motion somersault inside my skull.

Chapter 3

Olivia's POV I stood in the foyer of my penthouse, still wearing Gabriel’s oversized white shirt under my leather jacket. The air felt stale, carrying the scent of expensive lilies and the lingering trace of Justin’s sandalwood candles that I hadn’t thrown away yet. Gracie was sitting on my white velvet sofa. She didn’t look up from her tablet when the door clicked shut. Her heels were already kicked off, and a half-empty espresso cup sat on the marble coffee table. "You’re four hours late for the wardrobe fitting," Gracie said. She finally looked up, her eyes scanning me from my messy hair down to my bare legs. Her gaze stopped on the men's shirt. She stood up slowly. "Where have you been? And whose shirt is that?" I dropped my keys on the console table and walked toward the kitchen. My head was still thudding, a dull rhythm behind my eyes. "I stayed at a friend's house." "You don't have friends who wear bespoke cotton and stay out of the tabloids, Olivia," Gracie said, following

Chapter 4: Obsidian Intrusion

Olivia's POV My phone did not just vibrate. It shrieked. The screen was a strobe light of notifications. My Livers were losing their minds. I hated that name. I had told the label three years ago that calling my fan base ‘Livers’ made it sound like an overly enthusiastic anatomy class, but the branding stuck. Olivia plus Believers. It was a stretch. It was biological. It was currently flooding my feed with over fifty thousand comments in under ten minutes. "Olivia! Open this door right now!" Gracie screamed from the hallway. She was pounding on the wood. I ignored her and scrolled. "Is that the Moreau crest?" "Livvie, explain yourself, who is he?" "Justin is shaking in his yoga pants right now." I felt a surge of adrenaline that the tequila hadn't been able to provide. I was leaning back against the headboard when my phone screen went black. A private number was calling. I knew that area code. It wasn't the label, and it wasn't my step-mother asking for more kitchen renovatio

Chapter 5: Gilded Tension

Olivia's POV The following week was a blur of strategically leaked "candid" shots and frantic phone calls from my label. Gabriel was a man of his word, which meant he was a man of very few words and very high expectations. He had dictated the terms of our first public appearance like he was brokering a peace treaty. No club. No tequila. Just a "quiet" dinner at a restaurant so exclusive it didn't even have a sign on the door. I sat in the back of his town car, smoothing the skirt of my dress. It was silk, the color of a bruised plum, and clung to every curve. I had traded the leather jacket for a tailored cashmere coat. I looked like a woman who knew the difference between a salad fork and a fish fork, even if I usually used neither. Gabriel sat next to me, his laptop open on his knees. He hadn't looked at me since I climbed in. "You know, usually when a man picks up a woman for a date, he tells her she looks nice," I said, leaning over to peek at his screen. "Or at least acknowl

Chapter 6: Silken Conquest

Olivia's POV Jolie froze. I caught her reflection in the polished surface of the table. Her perfect mask was finally cracking. She looked at Gabriel's hand on the back of my neck and then at the way I was draped across the table like a prize he had no intention of sharing. "I just wanted to ask about the gala tomorrow," Jolie said. Her voice was thin. "My father expected you to escort me as usual. He said the seating arrangements were already finalized." Gabriel slowly turned his head. He didn't let go of my neck. His thumb continued to trace slow, distracting circles against my skin. I felt my heart hammer against my ribs. This wasn't acting. Or if it was, he was much better at it than I gave him credit for. "Your father should have checked with my assistant," Gabriel said. He sounded bored. "I have other plans for the gala. I assume your friend with the property development interests can fill the vacancy." The man at Jolie’s table looked over. He looked like he wanted to say so

Chapter 7: Onyx Reckoning

Olivia's POV I woke up to forty-three texts from my publicist and a very formal email from someone named “Margot Blanchet, Personal Assistant to Mr. Gabriel Moreau.” Before I could open it, my phone kept vibrating. The first text was from Sasha.Sasha: Livvie. You and Gabriel Moreau??? Please tell me this is real. I need details and emotional support snacks. The second was from Pedro.Pedro: Remember when you said you wanted a challenge? Congratulations. You picked the final boss. Jolie Seraphine is trending and I regret every warning I ever gave you. I scrolled, waiting for one more name to pop up. Nothing. Of course. Brittany wasn’t a morning person. She never was. Then I finally opened the email. It was three sentences long. "Miss Rayne, a selection of appropriate gala attire will arrive at 2 PM. Please be ready for hair and makeup at 4 PM. Mr. Moreau will collect you at 6:30 PM sharp." I read it three times, looking for a single word that wasn't dipped in frost. There was

Chapter 8: Ivory Masquerade

Olivia's POV His grandmother's eyes widened. Then she laughed. It was a bright, cackling sound that made several people turn to look. "I like her," she declared. She reached for my hand and pulled me closer, ignoring Gabriel completely. Gabriel cleared his throat. "Grand-mère, this is Olivia Rayne," he said. "Olivia, this is my grandmother, Marguerite." "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Moreau," I said, smiling politely. "Please, call me Grand-mère," Marguerite said, her eyes twinkling. "And you are the actress, yes? The one who sings the song about the man who cannot appreciate her." "That's most of my discography," I admitted. Marguerite laughed again, loud and infectious. "Come. Sit with me. I want to hear about how you met my grandson. He has been a stone for too long. It is good to see him with someone who has fire." Gabriel opened his mouth to protest, but Marguerite was already pulling me toward a table near the front. I glanced back at him. He looked like he was calculating the f

Chapter 9: Amber Deception

Olivia's POV I was on my third glass of champagne when Marguerite appeared beside me. She hoisted herself onto the barstool with surprising agility for someone her age, waving away the bartender's attempt to help. "That woman is a leech," she announced. I didn't have to ask who she meant. I could still see Gabriel and Jolie on the dance floor, her hand on his chest, his face carved from stone. "She's known him longer than I have," I said. The champagne was making my words looser than I wanted. "She has history." "History is just another word for baggage that should have been thrown out years ago," Marguerite said. She snapped her fingers at the bartender. "Cognac. The 1952. Do not pretend you do not have it." The bartender's eyes widened. He disappeared into the back room. Marguerite turned to me, her sharp eyes scanning my face. "You are upset." "I'm fine." "You are a terrible liar. For an actress, that is concerning." I let out a breath that was half laugh, half something

Chapter 10: Glass Veil

Olivia's POV "I handle it fine," I said. "You're the one following me outside." Jolie walked forward until she was standing a few feet away. She took a sip of her wine, her movements precise and controlled. "Gabriel is a good man," she said. "He deserves someone who understands his world. Someone who has been part of it." "Someone like you," I said flatly. "Yes." Jolie didn't even try to hide it. "We grew up together. Our families built empires side by side. I know him. I know what he needs." "You know what everyone expects him to need," I corrected. "That's not the same thing." Jolie's smile was thin. "You are a distraction. An entertaining one, I will admit. But Gabriel will tire of the noise. He always does." "Then you have nothing to worry about," I said. I turned to face her fully. "If I'm just noise, if I'm just a distraction, then why are you out here threatening me?" "I am not threatening you. I am simply making sure you understand the parameters of whatever game you

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