The Billionaire's Choice

The private dining hall hummed with the loud clinking of celebratory toasts. Energetic chatter bounced off the walls as the production cast aggressively networked, exchanging drinks and contact info. From across the massive room, Tasha shifted her position again. She was furious as she tried to block Vance’s line of sight. It was useless. Vance’s obsessive eyes kept drifting past her shoulder, captivated by Sloane in her stunning black dress. The elegant cut and daring slit revealed a radiant side of her he had never appreciated before.

Sloane did not care about the staring. She sat in her dim corner, engrossed in her phone screen. Her blood boiled over the rumors she had just overheard. Chloe’s fake diamond bracelet still flashed in her mind. She clenched her jaw, failing to notice the sudden, heavy hush that swept over the room. The lively chatter died in an instant.

The heavy oak doors of the dining hall swung open. A towering, imposing figure stepped over the threshold.

Startled, terrified, and deeply reverent gazes darted between the terrifying newcomer at the entrance and Chloe. At a nearby table, the lead actress sat up straight. Her heart hammered against her ribs in breathless, desperate expectation.

"Oh my god, it's Mr. Lancaster!" a terrified actress whispered into the sudden silence.

Gathering his scattered wits, the head director abandoned his drink. Sweating bullets, he practically sprinted to approach the aloof, commanding billionaire.

"Mr. Lancaster, it is truly an immense honor to have you here tonight. Please, please do sit down," the director stammered. He bowed slightly and respectfully gestured toward an empty, decorated chair positioned exactly beside Chloe at the VIP table.

Chloe watched the exchange in a state of sheer, breathless anticipation. She aggressively adjusted her posture, making sure her neckline caught the light, and flashed her most seductive smile. She desperately hoped this miraculous coincidence was her ultimate chance to finally charm him. If she played her cards right tonight, she could turn her pathetic fabricated lie into an undeniable reality.

But Rowan’s freezing gaze was already rapidly scanning the massive room. He ignored the director’s trembling, extended hand. His dark eyes swept over the crowded tables until they locked onto his specific target hidden in the dim corner. Once he found her, his focus did not waver for a single millisecond.

Acknowledging the sweating director with nothing more than a brief, dismissive nod, Rowan confidently strode forward. His expensive leather shoes clicked heavily against the marble floor, echoing in the quiet room.

Chloe’s smile widened as he approached her table. She parted her glossy lips to speak, her eyes shining with eager invitation.

Without sparing the desperate actress a single microscopic glance, Rowan walked right past her table. The cold draft of his movement hit Chloe’s face, freezing her in place. He marched straight into the hidden corner, pulled out the chair directly beside his secret wife, and wordlessly took a seat next to Sloane.

The entire room instantly plunged into a state of chaotic, amused whispers.

"Wait, didn't Chloe just claim that Mr. Lancaster was her devoted boyfriend? What the hell is happening right now?" one person muttered behind a hand.

"She actually dared to use Mr. Lancaster for PR hype. She's dead," another mocked cruelly.

"He didn't even spare her a glance. It was literally as if he did not know her at all!"

The collective mockery hit Chloe like a physical blow. Infuriated, exposed, and deeply humiliated, Chloe sat rigid in her chair. Her face burned a bright, unnatural crimson. Fleeing the room now would only cost her even more face and confirm her lies to the entire crew. She refused to step aside. She would not let this lowly screenwriter snatch her dream man without initiating a brutal fight. She dug her manicured nails into her palms, forcing herself to swallow the bitter embarrassment and stay seated.

Sloane, meanwhile, was just as profoundly shocked as the rest of the room. When Rowan first walked through the massive double doors, her heart had sunk. She assumed he was actually there to see Chloe and permanently confirm the vile rumors. The sight of Chloe’s smug face had nearly made her sick.

Instead, an immense wave of quiet, victorious satisfaction heavily washed over her. He ignored his supposed beautiful mistress to sit loyally by her side.

Still, Sloane fiercely resolved to maintain a cold, unbothered exterior. She tightened her grip on her glass, refusing to melt under his presence. She was still incredibly angry about his dismissive phone call from earlier today. Before she ever let her defensive guard down again, she desperately needed concrete answers about his true relationship with Chloe. She stared straight ahead, giving him nothing but a frosty shoulder.

Attempting to forcefully break the suffocating, awkward tension before shooting officially commenced tomorrow, the cast quickly settled into an alcohol-fueled game of Truth or Dare. The liquor flowed freely, loosening tight nerves and sparking loud, nervous cheers to distract from the VIP table drama.

The cast gathered around, pushing empty plates aside. An empty glass bottle spun violently on the center table, the glass rattling against the hard wood. It slowed down, ticking past several anxious faces, before it stopped dead.

The neck of the bottle pointed directly at Sloane.

When her turn officially arrived, Tasha's eyes gleamed with malice. She successfully seized the perfect opportunity to ruthlessly rub salt deep into her cousin's wounds in front of the entire crew.

"Sloane, truth or dare. Pick one right now," Tasha demanded aggressively, leaning over the table with a nasty smirk.

Sloane maintained her cold composure. She met Tasha’s hostile glare without flinching and replied firmly, "Truth."

Tasha leaned forward, her voice dripping with toxic venom. The bustling noise of the room seemed to fade as she pitched her voice loud enough to carry.

"If given a chance, would you ever, under any circumstances, get back with your ex?"

Stunned by the brazen, public question designed entirely to humiliate her, Sloane froze. The air in the private hall grew suffocatingly thick. She allowed her eyes to flick slowly toward Vance, who sat rigidly at his distant table. She was entirely aware that the entire room, including her billionaire husband sitting right beside her, was hanging onto her every single word.