His Contract Star: The CEO's Fake Lover ✨

Chapter 21 – The First Strike

The morning after the messenger’s visit, the world shifted. Cezy woke to the sound of her phone buzzing nonstop, notifications piling one after another like a storm breaking through her quiet sleep.

She blinked against the light and reached for it, expecting the usual flood of fan comments and news alerts. Instead, her eyes froze on the first headline:

“Cezy Celina: Rising Star or Nathan Cross’s Bought Plaything?”

Her heart lurched. She scrolled further, the words cutting sharper than knives.

“Sources claim Nathan Cross’s ‘contract actress’ has no talent, only connections.”

“Step-sister Mira Celina speaks: ‘She doesn’t deserve the spotlight.’”

“Video surfaces of Cezy Celina in a compromising audition.”

Her breath hitched. The video—grainy, manipulated—showed her leaving a casting director’s office months ago. The angle made it look like something it wasn’t, and the captions twisted it further.

Panic surged through her veins. “No, no, no…”

The bedroom door opened. Nathan stepped in, already dressed in a sharp suit, his expression grim. He didn’t need to ask—he already knew. His own phone had been ringing with calls from board members, investors, journalists. COD hadn’t waited. They’d struck her, fast and merciless.

“Nathan…” her voice cracked. “It’s everywhere. They’ve destroyed me.”

He strode to her, took the phone from her trembling hands, and tossed it onto the dresser. “No. They’ve made noise. That’s all.”

Cezy shook her head, tears threatening. “Noise? They’re tearing me apart. People believe it. They believe I’m nothing but—”

His hand caught her chin, firm but gentle, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Look at me. Do you believe it?”

Her lips trembled. “No… but—”

“Then nothing else matters.” His tone was steel, but beneath it, she felt the tremor of fury. “This is COD’s way. They destroy reputations, not with truth but with whispers. They want you broken before you even rise.”

“But it’s working,” she whispered. “Nathan, I worked so hard for this dream. And now, they’ve turned it into poison. What if I can never recover? What if every stage, every audition, every fan sees me as… their version of me?”

For the first time, Nathan’s composure cracked fully. His jaw clenched, his eyes dark with rage. “Then I’ll burn their whispers into silence. I’ll make their name poison instead.”

He pulled her into his arms, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe. And in that crushing embrace, she realized—this wasn’t just about her career anymore. It was war.

The day unfolded like a battlefield.

By noon, Cezy’s name dominated every trending chart across the country. Some defended her, furious at the baseless smear campaign, but others—fueled by envy and gossip—pounced on the rumors like wolves. For every supportive message, there were ten accusing her of being nothing more than Nathan’s “kept starlet.”

Her management called frantically, warning her to stay quiet until things cooled. But silence felt like surrender. She paced the penthouse living room, shaking with anger and helplessness. “They’re writing my story for me, Nathan. Lies. All of it. And I’m just supposed to… stay quiet?”

Nathan stood by the window, his tall frame casting a long shadow in the sunlight. He was on a call, his voice low and lethal. “Pull the feeds. I want every account traced back. I don’t care how deep. Burn their channels.” A pause. “Yes, drain their funding streams too. Make them crawl.”

He ended the call and turned to her, his eyes glacial. “You won’t stay quiet. But we’ll speak on our terms, not theirs.”

Cezy’s breath caught. “What do you mean?”

He walked toward her, every step deliberate. “I’m going to drag them into the light. If COD thinks they can smear you without consequence, they’ve underestimated who they’re dealing with.”

There was something terrifying in his calm. Something that told her Nathan Cross wasn’t just a CEO. He was a man who had built empires from ashes, and if need be, he would turn COD into ashes too.

Before she could reply, her phone buzzed again. The name on the screen froze her blood: Mira Celina.

Hands trembling, she answered. “Mira?”

Her step-sister’s voice slid through the line like silk laced with poison. “Quite a storm you’ve found yourself in, sister. Fame doesn’t look so shiny when it’s dragged through the mud, does it?”

Cezy’s stomach knotted. “You did this. You gave them the video.”

A laugh, cruel and careless. “Oh, don’t flatter me. I merely… pointed them in the right direction. COD knows how to use its tools. And you? You were the easiest pawn of all.”

Tears burned Cezy’s eyes, but fury blazed hotter. “You think destroying me will make you shine brighter?”

“I don’t need to shine,” Mira whispered, her tone dark. “I just need to make sure you never outshine me.”

The call ended, leaving silence that screamed louder than words. Cezy’s knees buckled, and Nathan caught her before she could fall.

“Mira,” she choked out. “It was her. She’s helping them.”

Nathan’s arms tightened around her, his voice a low growl against her hair. “Then she’s already chosen her side. And I’ll deal with her, too.”

For the first time, Cezy wasn’t afraid of Nathan’s fury. She welcomed it. Because this wasn’t just about her dream anymore—it was about survival.

By evening, Nathan’s strike had begun.

Every major network carried the news: Nathan Cross schedules emergency press conference. The speculation was relentless. Investors whispered about scandals, tabloids frothed at the chance to rip into Cezy again, and the entertainment world leaned forward, hungry to see if she would sink or rise.

The conference hall was a cathedral of cameras and flashing lights. Nathan stood at the podium, flanked by his legal team and PR head, his presence commanding absolute silence. Cezy watched from backstage, her palms damp, her heartbeat thundering in her ears.

He began with no preamble. “The rumors circulating today are deliberate fabrications, manufactured by parties with vested interests. They are not only an attack on Cezy Celina, but on the very idea of integrity in this industry.”

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Reporters scrambled to type, their screens glowing in the dim hall.

Nathan’s gaze swept the room like a blade. “You want truth? Here it is. Cezy Celina earned her place. Every audition, every sleepless night, every rejection she endured—she faced them without shortcuts. She is under my company’s protection not because of a contract of convenience, but because her talent is undeniable. And if any organization—” his voice sharpened, cold as steel “—believes it can silence her rise through slander, then hear me now: you will not win.”

The room erupted in chaos. Questions flew, shouted over one another. But Nathan raised his hand, and the noise died instantly.

From backstage, Cezy’s throat tightened. She wanted to run to him, to hold him, but then—

“Mr. Cross!” one reporter barked. “What about the video evidence circulating? Can you deny that it shows Cezy Celina trading favors for roles?”

The question stabbed like ice. Nathan didn’t flinch. “I can deny it because it is false. Manipulated. And my legal team is already pursuing action against those responsible.”

But the reporter pressed. “With all due respect, Mr. Cross, that’s easy to say. Isn’t it true that your relationship with Miss Celina gives her an unfair advantage over others? How is that not favoritism?”

The cameras swiveled. The question wasn’t aimed at Nathan anymore—it was aimed at her.

Before anyone could stop her, Cezy stepped out of the shadows and onto the stage. Gasps echoed across the hall. The lights blinded her, the press surged forward, but she held her head high, every nerve screaming at her to run.

“If you want answers,” she said, her voice trembling but clear, “ask me directly.”

The room froze.

She took a shaky breath and continued. “Yes, Nathan Cross is in my life. But not because I begged him for it, or because he bought me. He believed in me when no one else did. He saw my work, my effort, my dream—and he chose to give me a chance. That doesn’t erase the years I spent chasing auditions, singing in bars for coins, or being turned away at every door. You can twist a story, but you can’t rewrite my life.”

For a moment, silence reigned. Then the questions exploded, a thousand voices demanding more. But Cezy had already made her stand. She turned, met Nathan’s eyes across the stage, and saw something in them that stole her breath—pride.

But as they walked off together, hand in hand, Nathan’s grip was iron. He leaned close, whispering so only she could hear:

“You were brilliant. But now you’ve painted a bigger target on your back. COD won’t stop. They’ll come harder.”

And Cezy, still shaking, whispered back, “Then let them. I’m not running anymore.”