Historias cortas y novelas de Entertainment Circle

With my refreshing and elegant appearance and my kind heart, I became a top-rated celebrity in the entertainment industry.However, the elderly woman I helped ended up deceiving me, trapping me together with her mentally retarded son.While I was raped, she just watched with cold indifference and even took a video to blackmail me."Leona Hansom, since you are so kind, why don't you help me have a grandson?" she said.I tried to escape, but she posted the video online, claiming that I was her son's wife.My career was ruined. My fiancé suffered greatly, but he still killed that woman's son, ending up badly. Yet those I had helped were only interested in the videos the woman had shot and asked for related resources online.Abandoned by the whole world, I leaped from a building with hatred and despair.And so, I was reborn.

On the day Luke Smith attended his dear friend's funeral with his child, the media swarmed around me, questioning if I was the child's biological mother.Luke Smith, the high-society sensation, adored by all.For seven years, I was his secret lover, and how he spoiled me was the talk of the town.But eventually, he said, "Hazel, she's just a minor celebrity. What makes her think she can marry into the Smiths?"Indeed, his later wife, hailing from a prestigious lineage, epitomized grace and charm. Her only flaw was her inability to bear children.Facing eager reporters, I smiled, "I hardly know Mr. Smith. With that said, I wish him and his wife a lifetime of happiness and a joyful family."The news quickly went viral online.That very night, Luke Smith, disheveled and troubled, embarked on a long journey to San Anglos with his child.

After dating me for a decade, Alfred Rodriguez officially admitted that he was in a relationship with someone else. It was not me but a popular young actress.Exhilarated, their fans created an online buzz about their dating. I posted a diamond ring on my Facebook, announcing that I'm getting married. Alfred called me."Delete that post. Don't even think about forcing me to marry you in this way. I've just got my reputation in the entertainment circle and announced a relationship. I can't marry you now..." "Mr. Rodriguez, I'm marrying someone else. Come to my wedding party if you're free."I hung up. Alfred went mad. He called me countless times that night. On my wedding day, he turned up with red eyes and asked if I'd elope with him. What? How dare this guy seduce someone else's fiancée in public! What a pervert!

After being secretly married to me for five years, my husband, a famous actor, suddenly reveals his relationship on his Twitter account. Promotional accounts find out who I am and make me out to be a woman who refuses to let the relationship die. My husband's fans criticize and mock me all over the Internet, but I'm unfazed. My husband's the one who cheated on me, yet he's acting like he's deeply in love with another woman. Does he think I'm nothing but a regular businesswoman? Sometimes, some people get ahead of themselves because they forget their roots. I bet he's forgotten who funded his success!

I never would've imagined I would be the one to deliver protection product to Edgar Graham and his female subordinate. I get to witness him cheating on me. I even politely tell the mistress, "Here's your order. Please give me a good rating."

After I announced my exit from the music industry, the public response was overwhelmingly positive. The only person who voiced his objection was my girlfriend's rumored lover, the up-and-coming songwriter Lucas Zacker. He put on a show of sincerity in front of a crowd of reporters. "It's all a misunderstanding. Matthew is an irreplaceable talent in the music industry. I sincerely hope he returns to the stage." I shut off my phone and turned a blind eye to his public plea. In my past life, one of my songs had been identical to his supposedly original single. As such, netizens accused me of plagiarism, cursing me and wishing death upon my family. Frustrated, I posted the entire creation process online, but it couldn't stand up to the timeline. His new song had been released ten minutes ahead of mine. Just because of the ten-minute difference, netizens sent me photoshopped mourning portraits of myself and even went so far as to come to my house and vandalize it with paint. The relentless cyberbullying went on for years, and it drove me into a deep depression. My parents exhausted their life savings trying to clear my name, only for crazed fans to set our house on fire, causing my parents to burn to death. In the end, when his song won an award, I jumped off a building. But who would have guessed that when I opened my eyes again, I was reborn on the very day the new song was set to release.

My movie star husband's girlfriend suspected I was the other woman. She confronted me in public, beat me until I lost my child, and even left my face scarred beyond recognition. "You shameless homewrecker! How dare you seduce someone else's man—and even get pregnant?" she screamed in rage. "I'll send you and that child of yours straight to hell today!" And as for my husband, he didn't even spare me a glance. All he cared to say was, "Why did you bother hitting her yourself? Did your hand hurt?" But when he finally discovered that the woman his girlfriend had scarred and caused to miscarry was me, he lost his mind.

Eight years after I married that award-winning actor, he publicly declared he was dating the top starlet, Celine James. He even posted a picture of the two of them celebrating their adopted “baby’s” birthday. I did not call him to interrogate him as usual. Instead, he hurriedly explained, “It’s just a pet we adopted. As its ‘dad’, I have to be there for its birthday.” I said calmly, “Rather than adopting a furbaby, why don’t we get a divorce? Then you can have an actual baby with her.”

Two months remained until debut evaluation night. Before our unit performance, our main dancer suddenly offered me her center position. I stared at her, confused, "The trainers always praise your stage presence. Why give up your spot?" "You... you deserve center more than I do." Her smile was painfully forced, and she was fidgeting with her practice clothes - obviously not saying what she really felt. Puzzled by her strange behavior, I asked, "Are my moves too big? Am I making it hard for you to perform?" She suddenly started shaking, looking at me with pure fear in her eyes. After what felt like forever, she finally choked out, "Please, just stop. I won't try to compete with you for center anymore!"

As the upcoming tour approached, the dance troupe suddenly revoked my position as the lead dancer. Anxious to get an explanation in person, I lost my footing due to my distracted state and tumbled down the stairs. While enduring the sharp pain and preparing to call for emergency services, a notification popped up on my phone screen: “Redwood Dance Troupe: Welcome our new lead dancer, Averil Wells, and our generous sponsor, Julian Ford." The accompanying photo featured two smiling faces—my husband of seven years, whom I had secretly married, and his pampered mistress. Julian had his arm wrapped around Averil's waist as he placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. Meanwhile, Averil clung to Julian's neck, her face radiating shyness and delight.

I was a semi-retired actress, joining a divorce reality show with my billionaire husband. "I want a divorce." Facing the camera, I spoke calmly. Off-camera, Hector Sinclair frowned as he reviewed the scene with me. "You need to show more emotion when you say it. That’s what will get people talking, stir up discussion, and drive the views. "Otherwise, who’s going to believe you really want to divorce me? They’ll just think you’re acting again. “Use your head. I can’t guide you every step of the way." Yeah. To outsiders, I was nothing more than a pretty face—vain, shallow, and talentless. Meanwhile, he was a shrewd and cultured businessman, commanding a fortune worth billion. No one believed I would willingly give up the title of Mrs. Sinclair, not even Hector himself. However, he had no idea that this time, I meant it.

On the day of my wedding, the video I had painstakingly prepared was suddenly replaced with intimate photos of my fiancé and my foster sister, Lindsey Remmington. Within minutes, it hit the top of the trending list. Overnight, I, a celebrated actress, became the abandoned bride of a wealthy family and a public laughingstock. Just when I thought I'd reached rock bottom, Connor Presley, the heir of Elluel City's most powerful family and the boy I'd grown up with, returned from abroad. In front of flashing cameras, he knelt with a diamond ring and proposed, silencing every rumor and every sneer. After we married, we appeared inseparable, our affection the picture of perfection. The only flaw was his infertility—his condition made it nearly impossible for me to conceive. For three long years, I underwent countless rounds of IVF. At last, I became pregnant. Connor was overjoyed. To celebrate, he threw an extravagant party in honor of our long-awaited child. But in the middle of the revelry, one of his closest friends, drunk and unguarded, muttered in Russian, "Connor, you've gone too far. Just because Lindsey was afraid pregnancy would ruin her figure, you put the zygote into Rachel's body and let her carry the baby for you two? If she ever finds out the truth, you'll regret it for the rest of your life." Connor's expression didn't waver. "This was Lindsey's only wish. I had to grant it," he replied coolly. "Besides, having a child with Lindsey has always been my dream. Only her child deserves to be the heir of the Presley family. The days ahead are long—I'll make it up to Rachel, eventually." I stood frozen, my body trembling uncontrollably. That night, I made an appointment for an abortion. When Connor stormed into the hospital, raging like a madman, I looked up at him with chilling calm and said, "I understand Russian."

I once made a promise to the top actress in the industry. If I publicly proposed to her 99 times on livestreams, she would, on the hundredth, officially launch our relationship. But when the hundredth proposal came, she was on a private yacht kissing a new rising actor. Her smile had been so sweet and carefree. I became a complete joke. Feeling guilty, she texted me: [I will say yes on your 101st proposal.] She entered my livestream, looking like a goddess had descended to earth. As she looked on, I lit all one hundred love letters I had ever written for her, as well as the stomach cancer diagnosis I had hidden inside. “There will be no 101st time, Miss Ford.”

At the recording studio of a divorce reality show, when Logan Barnes, the superstar, catches a fallen headset for me, he subconsciously takes my hand and kisses it. The thing is, the livestreaming camera is still rolling. The kiss leaves the entire Internet in chaos. After all, I'm not Logan's ex-wife in this reality show. Everyone can't wait to see me break down and get jealous to the point that I'll keep pestering my actual ex-husband, Eddie Hancock. But right after the reality show is over, Logan and I become the most envied Internet couple.

On my first wedding night, my wife, Stella Turner the top actress, abandons me and sleeps with her ex-boyfriend instead. When she comes home, she reeks of alcohol and keeps calling Adam Green's name while holding me. The next day, Adam publishes a post on social media, saying, "Sometimes, some love is destined to be left unspoken and buried in the sands of time. I wish you all the happiness in the world." His fans leave angry comments below the post, criticizing me for being the third wheel. My manager, Josh Mendez, is almost going mad with anxiety. I scroll on my phone languidly and casually say, "Why so anxious? Post their intimate photos from last night online and say that I, the legally wedded husband, caught them in the act. Remember to blur the photo, but make sure people can still make out Stella's tattoo on her collarbone."

During the live boyband auditions, I won the popularity vote by a landslide and was given the position of the main singer. Another member of the boyband suddenly laughed as he patted me on the shoulder. "Jordan, I was the one who accompanied you to get stamina supplements after you overdid it in bed with your rich married lover. Now that we're in the same boyband, please look out for me!" Immediately, the phrase 'The Boyband's One-Minute Man' was seen everywhere online. Even our mentor chimed in, trying to get me kicked out of the band. I had no choice but to call my mother when I was unable to prove myself innocent. "Mom, I don't want to debut in a boyband anymore. Let me go solo and send the rest of them off to labor away their lives at the factory!"

After years of investment from my company, my boyfriend finally broke into show business. At last, he won an Oscar. True to his promise, he married me. Then, during a backstage interview, he said, "It was transactional. I had to marry her in exchange for the funding." His braindead fans came after me soon afterward. They stalked me and, one day, poured sulfuric acid over my face. The attack left me disfigured. He sent me to the hospital, but that was just another part of his scheme. Before long, the world believed I had died from complications. When I returned to life, I decided to invest in someone else. After all, he was the only person who had mourned my death and given me a proper burial.

For ten years, I stand by Robert Lopez's side, watching him rise from the trenches of obscurity to the blinding heights of superstardom. But on the night he clinches the Best Actor award, he drops to one knee and proposes to a starlet he's known for less than ten days. Those eyes that are so full of love and devotion, no matter who they're looking at, turn cold and threatening for the first time. "Danielle, I've slept with her, so I need to take responsibility. You're willing to stay by my side without a title or a promise, but she can't. She needs a sense of security." A bitter laugh escapes me. That's when I finally understand that love has nothing to do with time. But hear this, Robert. Just because I've waited for you for ten years doesn't mean I deserve to be treated like trash or that you're the only man for me.

For eight years, I'd managed the career of my boyfriend, Aiden White, a famous celebrity. I was also a partner at Veyra Media and the one pulling the strings behind his career. But on our anniversary trip, Aiden and one of the company's top influencers left me behind at a hotel near a volcano. They drove for forty minutes before they even realized I wasn't with them. When Aiden finally answered my call, he sounded more annoyed than concerned. "Scarlett, why didn't you get in the car? We need to hike to the crater by five, or we'll miss the blue flames! We're already almost there. I can't turn around and drive all the way back for you!" "Scarlett can find a ride and meet us here," Karina said in the background. "You know she can take care of herself. She'll be fine." In the past, I would've swallowed my hurt and rushed to catch up with them. But this time, I stared at the moon in the distance and realized I didn't want to chase after Aiden anymore. I pulled up the itinerary I'd spent weeks planning and canceled every flight and hotel booking. Then I booked a new trip to Veythira, a quiet coastal town I'd always dreamed of visiting. Aiden had never wanted to go. He thought it was too remote and had nothing worth seeing. I was done following him. From now on, I'd choose my own path.