UNDER THE SPOTLIGHT Chapter 39

Life finally seemed back on track.

Serena’s Love Under the Stars hadn’t cooled off; her name kept trending, and offers for roles and endorsements poured in like snow. After the Allure Angel campaign, Maya began to shine too—several brands reached out on their own. Her smile carried new confidence, and the fire for her dreams was back in her eyes.

I’d earned a modest reputation in the industry, jokingly called the manager with the Midas touch. Even Mr. Warren looked at me with a hint of newfound respect.

But calm never lasts long.

That morning, I was in my office organizing Maya’s schedule when Mr. Warren’s assistant rang the intercom, voice like ice: “Ethan, Mr. Warren wants you in his office. Now.”

My heart skipped, a prickle of unease running through me. I pushed open the door to his office—smoke hung in the air. He sat in his leather chair, face as dark as a storm front.

A phone lay on the desk, screen lit up on a tabloid blog.

He shot me a glance, voice low. “Ethan, explain this.”

I stepped closer. One look, and my chest felt like it took a sledgehammer.

On the screen was a set of paparazzi shots: late at night, outside Serena’s apartment building. In the photos, I wore a black jacket, head down as I exited the building, the complex’s neon sign glowing behind me.

The headline cut like a blade: Rising star Serena spotted in a midnight rendezvous with a mystery man—manager cover story?

The article underneath poured gasoline on the fire, spinning every possible angle.

Some claimed Serena was “keeping” me, trading favors via the casting couch; others smeared me as a trust-fund heir slumming it as a manager, with Serena as my “mistress.”

The comments were a warzone—fans and haters at each other’s throats. The bile aimed at Serena and the speculation about my supposed “backer” were enough to make anyone sick.

I clenched my fists, rage buzzing in my skull. “Mr. Warren, it’s garbage! They stalked us and spun a narrative. There’s no proof!”

He gave a cold laugh, lit a cigarette, and exhaled a thin stream of smoke. “Ethan, show business isn’t about proof. It’s about traffic. The second those photos dropped, Serena’s reputation took a hit. We fought hard to push her up. We’re not letting a scandal sink her. So—what’s your move?”

I gritted my teeth, brain racing. “I’ll get PR on it. We’ll issue a statement clarifying that Serena and I have a strictly professional relationship. Those photos are taken out of context.”

His eyes narrowed, gaze scraping across my face like a blade. “Professional? Don’t take me for blind. Everyone knows things between you and Serena are murky. And Maya—word is you’re protective of her, too. You’re a manager, not a lothario. Rein it in.”

The words hit like a slap; my cheeks burned.

I lowered my head, throat dry as sand. “I understand. I’ll handle it. I won’t put the agency in a bind.”

He waved a hand, his tone easing a shade. “You’re good at what you do. I don’t want this to get ugly. But this dies now, or Serena’s and Maya’s deals take a hit. Go. Don’t let me down.”

Leaving his office, I felt pressure like never before.

Back at my desk, I immediately looped in the PR team and drafted a statement: Serena and I maintain a professional manager–artist relationship; the photos were the result of malicious paparazzi and baseless fabrication.

At the same time, I had the team contact the gossip outlet, demand a takedown, and warn that we’d pursue legal action if they refused.

Hearts and Headlines