Chapter 1

I'm Sebastian Shaw. On the surface, I'm an A-list Hollywood actor, a face you might recognize from a blockbuster or two.

But in the world I come from, that's just a hobby, a way to honor the family tradition. The real power—the kind that built this town—isn't on the screen, it's in the boardrooms of Shaw Studios, the empire my grandfather founded and I am set to inherit.

On my wedding day, while getting prepped in the back room, my fiancée's personal manager, Wesley, handed me a document titled "Physical Intimacy Agreement."

Clause 1, No kissing below the brow without express written permission.

Clause 2, Subject to the woman's mood, the man is granted one intimate opportunity per calendar month, duration not to exceed ten minutes.

Clause 3, At any time, in any place, if the woman feels discomfort, the man must immediately cease all current actions and vacate the vicinity.

...

After scrolling through nearly a hundred clauses like this, I fought back a bitter laugh and dialed my fiancée.

"Isabella Young, care to explain Clause 98?"I kept my voice deceptively calm.

"What exactly does 'Regardless of who the child's biological father is, it will bear your surname' mean?"

The whole situation was a farce. This lavish wedding was arranged by our grandfathers—hers a retail magnate, mine a studio legend.

We'd met at a few galas, she'd always been pleasant, if a bit distant. I knew she was a Manhattan socialite, but I'd hoped for more than this... contractual humiliation.

"You're a public face, Sebastian. A charming one, but still." Isabella's voice was cold over the phone. "Did you honestly think the Young heir would carry your surname? This is about legacy."

I took a deep breath, my tone dropping, leaving no room for argument. "I'm sorry, Isabella, but I won't be signing this."

The moment the words left my mouth, her furious shriek pierced my ear. "Sebastian Shaw! Who do you think you are?"

"Marrying you is a courtesy to your family! How dare you defy me?"

I was stunned. This was the poised heiress my grandfather admired? It was a far cry from the refined image he had painted.

I was about to respond when the line went dead with a sharp click.

Seeing this, Wesley, the assistant beside me, looked at me with utter disdain and snorted. "Mr. Shaw, I suggest you sign quietly. Given Ms. Young's... temperament, your life will become very complicated otherwise." His gaze swept over my custom-fit but understated tuxedo, clearly dismissing me as just another pretty face..

"An agreement that strips me of basic autonomy? Whoever wants to sign it can go ahead. I absolutely refuse!" The Shaw name might not be in retail, but in the ecosystem of Hollywood, we were the sun everything else orbited. They just didn't know it yet.

With that, I started removing my jacket, turning to leave, only to have Wesley step bodily in front of the door.

"The ceremony starts in twenty minutes, Mr. Shaw. Where exactly do you think you're going?"

My posture straightened, the ghost of military training tightening my shoulders. "My legs, my choice. None of your damn business!"

Instead of backing down, Wesley became more brazen. "Mr. Shaw, I strongly advise you to put your jacket back on."

"If you cause a scene and embarrass Ms. Young, you won't work in this town again." He shoved me back a step, his eyes full of menace.

Seeing his arrogance, my anger spiked. "And what if I insist on leaving?"

Gasps erupted from the makeup artists and stylists in the room.

"Oh my god, he's standing up to Wesley? His career is over!"

"It's just a prenup! Why is he making such a big deal?"

"Seriously, marrying Isabella Young is the role of a lifetime. Who cares about the fine print?"

As the murmurs swelled, Wesley's smirk returned. "Hear that? A famous face with no real power. Talking about dignity? Are you out of your mind?"

I almost felt sorry for him. The Youngs had money, oceans of it. But in this town, real power was about influence, legacy, and the silent ability to make or break empires. And the Shaws had that in spades.

"Wesley, last warning. Get out of my way, or face the fallout."

Perhaps startled by the shift in my demeanor, the cold certainty in my eyes, he faltered for a second.

"Alright, you little punk... you dare threaten me? I... I'm calling Ms. Young right now! Let's see how you like being blacklisted."

I spread my hands, utterly indifferent. "By all means. Make the call."