UNDER THE SPOTLIGHT Chapter 2

That night, I followed Serena to her next engagement, a launch event for a new series.

The venue was drenched in gold and glitter; crystal chandeliers dazzled, and reporters’ flashes rattled like machine-gun fire.

Serena took the stage and fielded questions with ease, tossing a playful wink now and then that drew waves of applause.

She’d changed into a scarlet gown with a daring slit. Each step teased a glimpse of thigh, those long lines catching the light in a way that hooked every gaze, sending a few male reporters lifting their cameras again and again, greed naked in their eyes.

I stood in a corner, watching her glow, thinking: So this is show business—nothing like that backwater town I crawled out of.

Then the thought flipped, and I felt completely out of place, like a beggar who’d wandered into a nobleman’s banquet, careful even with my breathing in this gaudy world.

After the event, Serena told me to tag along to meet an “important client.”

I figured it was for a deal. Turned out to be a private members’ club, decadent as a palace, the air heavy with alcohol, perfume, and cigar smoke—so sweet it made my head swim.

In a suite, a few middle-aged men in suits were trading toasts. The one in charge, an investor named Mr. Carter, was balding, his gaze glued to Serena like a wolf sizing up its prey.

Serena sat and toasted with practiced grace, smiling with syrupy sweetness, like she was made for rooms like this.

Under the lights, the neckline of her dress eased open just enough to show fine collarbones and the suggestion of a curve. Mr. Carter’s eyes all but dove in.

I stood by, all awkward elbows, pretending to check my phone and willing myself invisible, while the fire in my chest climbed higher.

A few drinks in, Mr. Carter got loose and crude. His hand slid toward Serena’s waist as he muttered, “Serena, I only greenlit this investment for you.”

His fingers hovered, sticky with a nauseating sense of ownership.

My heart clenched. I stepped forward on instinct to stop him.

Serena slipped lightly aside, dodging his hand with a smile. “Mr. Carter, don’t scare my new assistant. He’s still green.”

Her tone was playful, a touch provocative, like we were all in on a dangerous game.

Laughter broke out. Mr. Carter squinted at me, giving me a once-over. “Kid’s protective. Good. You’ll go far.”

His look was a blade, cold sweat prickling down my back as anger and helplessness surged like a tide.

By the time we wrapped, it was past one. Serena slid into the company car, took off her earrings, and rubbed her temples, like she’d just peeled off a mask.

In the cabin light, her dress shimmered; the neckline gaped slightly, tracing the arc of her collarbones and a glimpse that kicked my heart into a gallop.

I couldn’t help asking, “Serena, these scenes… don’t they wear you out?”

She glanced at me, voice cool. “Tired? You get used to it. You’re new. You’ll learn.”

Her eyes were an ice wall that stopped every question, yet in that faint smirk there was something unreadable.

Back in the tiny studio I rented, I lay on the bed with Serena’s image replaying in my head.

That pale, bare back. That sultry “pretty boy.” And Mr. Carter’s disgusting stare, all tangled into a knot I couldn’t loosen.

My body reacted on its own; shame and excitement twined together, and sleep wouldn’t come.

Showbiz is a vast abyss, full of lure and shadow. I’ve barely stepped in and I’m already dizzy. But I clenched my fists and told myself:

Liam Hart, carve your own path. Make this trip mean something. No matter how dirty this game gets, plant your feet. Even if you have to crawl, crawl until you find the light.

Gilded Abyss