I haven’t been very happy lately. The problem is, my favorite celebrity "little brother" totally crashed and burned. Getting caught in a scandal is one thing, but lying to me when all the evidence was out there, just to get me to spend more money to bail him out? That was the last straw. In a fit of rage, I dumped all my considerable resources, connections, and hype onto his biggest rival—some indie nobody in the same agency. I didn't expect the kid to have so much fight in him. He exploded overnight. Superstar status. Just as I was about to retire, happy with my revenge, and looking to sponsor some new young talent, he grabbed me. "Haven't I performed well enough for you yet, Chloe? How about you stop being a fan and start being mine?" 1 I used to be obsessed with a rising star named Tyler. He was the definition of the "golden retriever boyfriend" aesthetic. Sweet, innocent face. To be honest, his actual talent—singing, acting—was mediocre at best. But he had a face that checked every single one of my boxes, and he knew exactly how to work me with that charming, vulnerable act. Apart from making a ridiculous amount of money, I didn't have many hobbies. Sponsoring young idols was my stress relief. When he dropped a new single, I dropped serious cash to game the Billboard charts for him. When he couldn't land a brand deal, I personally spent fifty grand on a designer wardrobe just so he could look the part at high-profile events. Late at night, he’d call me, sounding so sweet and pathetic, complaining about how hard it was being low on the Hollywood totem pole and how badly he was treated. My heart would break for the kid. I’d use my connections, call in favors with producer friends, and get him gigs. What I didn't expect was for my "investment" to grow up and get a secret girlfriend. Fine. Whatever. They all do. But this girl was a complete clout-chaser. She posted a photo on Instagram, not just announcing the relationship, but claiming that I—his biggest sponsor—was trying to sexually harass her boyfriend. Her proof? Highly curated, out-of-context screenshots of our texts. Within an hour, it was the number one trending topic on Twitter. Fortunately, netizens aren't entirely stupid. The top comments were savage, just not toward me: "Hold on, are these two serious? Looking at these texts, any idiot can see it’s just Tyler playing the 'woe is me' card to manipulate rich women into giving him free stuff." "I've seen videos of him live. His talent is a total train wreck. Without this sponsor lady, he'd be waiting tables at Denny’s. If I had a sugar mommy this rich, I’d be on my knees thanking God every day." Within ten minutes, the hashtag #JusticeForChloe was trending. Damn it. As a self-made businesswoman, the thing I hate most is being pitied. And this idiot just caused the entire internet to pity me into the spotlight. The public was still eating it up, placing bets: "I bet $100 he’s currently typing up a manic, desperate apology text to her right now." "$200 says agreed." They were right. My phone was currently blowing up with over a dozen missed calls, all from Tyler. Then came the texts: "Chloe, babe, I swear this is a huge misunderstanding. That girl is just a stalker. Those photos are photoshopped. They mean nothing." "Chloe, please let me explain. You’re truly the only one I care about." "Chloe, send me your location. I'm canceling everything to come see you right now." Canceling everything. I was the one who curated his schedule; I knew exactly how few gigs he actually had. Eventually, I got bored of the notifications and just blocked his number. I had sponsored Tyler for two years. I knew his real character better than anyone. He hadn't learned a single ounce of professional craft, but he had mastered the arts of lying and flirting with impressionable girls. Initially, I would have lectured him. Later, I stopped caring. He wasn't my son, so who gives a damn? To me, he was just a disposable stress-relief toy that happened to look good. While I was thinking, my phone buzzed again. It was my producer friend. "Hey, the marketing team at Peroni finally got back to us. The celebrity endorsement deal is on the table. How do you want to handle it? Do we still give the contract to your little boy toy?" Give it to him? For what? To help him promote the 'naive, innocent victim' brand in front of the public after he made me look like a fool? I was annoyed. I was about to tell my friend to just apologize to the brand and cancel the pitch. Suddenly, a digital ad popped up on my laptop for a high-end streetwear brand. The male model looked vaguely familiar. I realized he was with the same talent agency as Tyler—one of those indies with zero resources and terrible management. I only knew about him because Tyler had bitched about him to me several times, calling him 'brooding' and 'uncooperative.' Out of curiosity, I had looked him up a few times. His look wasn't my usual type—he wasn't the sweet 'golden retriever' kind—so I hadn't paid him much attention. I thought about it. Tyler hated this guy. "Don't give it to Tyler," I told my friend over the phone. "Peroni wants a model? I have someone else." "Who?" I switched to tabs on my computer, quickly Googling the kid's name again. "Ethan. Ethan Reed." "Who the hell is that?" "Tyler’s rival at the agency." My friend was silent for a few seconds before responding. "Classic. That is so you." 2 Unsurprisingly, once Ethan got the Peroni endorsement deal, Tyler, having heard the news, couldn't sit still. I wasn't taking his calls. So, he did what any desperate Z-list celebrity does: he posted a notes-app, tear-jerking essay on Twitter. It was the same exact script he tried on me. He claimed the girl was a crazed stalker, purely delusional. He insisted there was no actual relationship, and the photos were fake. The girl, furious at being painted as a lunatic, went nuclear. She immediately leaked the explicit, intimate photos. Then she leaked audio recordings of Tyler attempting to negotiate a cash settlement to make her disappear. Listening to it, I actually felt a moment of pity for Tyler. Truly, he was a massive, drooling idiot. While Tyler was busy destroying his own life with his private dramas, he stopped bothering me. But, getting over a celebrity obsession is oddly similar to a breakup. Even though I never loved Tyler romantically, I had invested real time, emotion, and hard work into him. Without an idol to promote, I was stuck at home at night, completely bored. Life suddenly felt flat. Then, out of the blue, I got a call from an unknown number. "Hello? This is Ethan Reed." His voice was deep, resonant—completely different from Tyler’s always-on, high-energy persona. It took me a second to figure out who he was. "Can I help you, Ethan?" "My agent told me about the endorsement deal. Peroni. I just wanted to call and say thank you." "Oh, it's fine. It was nothing." Actually, that deal had taken a significant amount of my time and leverage to secure, but that didn't matter now. Ethan was clearly not the charming, talkative type. After I spoke, silence stretched over the line. Only the faint static of the connection remained. I hate awkward silences and was about to hang up when he spoke again. "I have a showcase gig this Saturday at a small festival. I'm singing a song. Would you... be willing to come watch?" That was a lot to ask of someone who wasn't actually a fan. I was about to reject him when he said, "If you don't have time, it's okay. Honestly, I'm used to playing to an empty room." That was a low blow. He totally manipulated my nurturing instinct. "I have time," I said, suppressing a sigh. "I'll be there." He let out a huge breath on the other end, sounding totally relieved. "Thank you." After hanging up, I immediately regretted it. It was going to be so hot this Saturday... whatever. It’s not like I haven’t done this before. I'd act as his personal photographer, get some high-quality headshots, edit them, and post them online. Think of it as his payment for helping me get revenge on Tyler. 3 Saturday came, and I dragged myself, along with my professional camera gear, to Ethan’s event. When I arrived, I realized just how well Ethan had "marketed" this to me. "Showcase gig..." It was basically a performance at a ribbon-cutting ceremony for a new big-box grocery store in the suburbs. But I had to hand it to him; the scene was packed. Crowds of senior citizens and families were standing around, eager for free samples. I found Ethan waiting backstage. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt and jeans. To be fair, he was incredibly handsome in person. Brooding, sharp jawline. I pointed my lens at him, intending to snap a couple of test shots, but something felt off. I walked over. "You're not wearing makeup?" Seeing me, Ethan looked confused for a second before realizing who I was. "You... you must be Chloe. It’s just two songs. I didn't want to make a fuss." "This isn't about making a fuss. I'm going to be taking high-resolution professional photos. You need to at least look alive." Ethan looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry. No one has ever come to take professional photos of me before." My heart broke for the kid again. I figured a guy like him probably didn't carry a makeup kit around. "Where's your agent? Call him over. Tell him to get you a mirror and some basics." Ethan’s expression somehow managed to get even more awkward. "I came alone." "Our agency resources are pretty low. The gigs don't pay much. My agent... he actually started a side business as a drop-shipper to make ends meet. He’s away at a warehouse seminar today." My god. What kind of garbage management was this? Honestly, Ethan was even... more pathetic than I imagined. Years ago, I had spent a king's ransom on Tyler. I had curated countless high-end opportunities for him. If I had given even a tenth of that to Ethan, it probably would have sustained him for a year. It was a shame. Tyler was such a waste of space—no matter how hard I pushed him, he never gained any real traction. And what he just did to us, his core fanbase, was unforgivable. Thinking about Tyler just made me feel even more pity for Ethan. I rolled up my sleeves. "Whatever. Sit down. I'll do it." Ethan didn't say a word. He just obediently tilted his head back, waiting for me to work on his face. That was when I noticed his skin was incredible. Naturally smooth. His bone structure was perfect, too. All he needed was some foundation to even things out and it was flawless. When it came time for lip balm, I realized I only had my own. Since I had already used it, I just swiped some onto my fingertip. "Do you mind if I just use my hands?" Ethan shook his head. I squatted down so we were eye-level. My finger lightly brushed against his lips, making sure it was even. Satisfied, I stood up. "Done." But the kid didn't move. I looked down and realized he was staring straight up at me, his eyes wide, and the tips of his ears were a deep, undeniable red. "You're good to go," I repeated. "Check the mirror?" Ethan snapped out of his daze, flustered. He looked away instantly, lowered his head, and murmured, "Thank you." Oh my god. Was this kid actually blushing? Are there actually male celebrities left in this industry who still have a pulse and blush?! I had to suppress a laugh. "Get going. Break a leg." I had originally planned to take a few photos and leave. I wasn't actually a fan of Ethan, after all. I didn't expect that when Ethan started singing, his talent would be undeniable. Even the grandpas and grandmas who were jostling for free eggs stopped what they were doing and began clapping along to the rhythm. It was no wonder that even though Ethan was buried at the bottom of the B-list, Tyler was still obsessed with constantly talking trash about him. This kid was a real threat. I just didn't understand why the agency wouldn't promote a real asset like Ethan, preferring to pour resources into useless trust-fund kids who couldn't sing to save their lives. I wasn't insulting my past choices, of course. Just an objective observation. They say the best way to get over an old love is to find a new one. Ethan was a stock that was about to blow up. I was thinking that maybe I could become his manager, or at least his top sponsor. It wasn't a bad idea. At least the probability of him having a hidden girlfriend scandal was low right now. But I usually prefer the sweet, cute types, and he... wasn't. So, should I invest or not? While I was debating, the song ended. Ethan instinctively looked toward me, lightly biting his lip. He gave a shy, almost sheepish smile. His eyes were shining, silently begging for approval, just like a golden retriever puppy. Holy hell! That's my exact weakness. Fine. I'm investing. He’s mine! 4 I had over ten years of experience as a high-end fansite admin and celebrity promoter. The photos I took were as good as any professional magazine spread. When I got home, I selected the best shots, edited them to perfection, and posted them as a set of nine on my main account. Purely based on aesthetics, these photos of Ethan were flawless. He was drop-dead gorgeous. Since Ethan was so obscure he didn't even have a dedicated fansite community, I applied to create one for him, then posted all nine photos into the newly created forum. The caption: "A lone ship in a sea of stars. You are the only island where I wish to dock. @EthanReed" The moment it was posted, the comments started flooding in. "Wait, isn't this Tyler’s former top fansite admin? She’s supporting someone new already?" "Holy shit, this guy is stunning. If these are unedited, I need a name, right now." "Say what you want, but this lady is truly the GOAT of publicists. Her content quality is insane. Honestly, Tyler is going to regret this. He had a winning hand and threw it all away." I have to admit, being publicly pitied by the entire internet had its perks. Five minutes after I posted, the likes broke 10,000. I hadn't even paid for sponsored trends yet. I was getting ready to edit a highlight video of his singing to keep the momentum going when my phone rang. It was an unknown number. I picked up, but all I heard on the other end was quiet, hitching sobbing. Someone was crying. I asked "Who is this?" a few times, but no one responded. I was just about to hang up when I heard, "Chloe... do you really not want me anymore?" It was Tyler. I truly did not understand where this boy found the audicity to call me. "Chloe," he choked out, "I know you and Ethan always hated each other. Did you post those photos just to hurt me? You can't actually be over me." Me: ? On the other end of the line, he intentionally dropped his voice, trying to use that deep, breathy "bad boy" tone to beg for mercy. "I really messed up this time. Just give me one more chance. Let me come over to your place tonight, okay?" Late at night. Coming over. It wasn't hard to figure out what he was implying. How does a kid who just debuted, who used to look like a sweet idiot on camera, turn this slimy and pathetic in just two years? "Honey, I have absolutely zero interest in you," I said, unable to keep the disbelief out of my voice. "I sponsored you for a long time, so I'll give you one piece of advice: don't think you're more important than you actually are." After hanging up, I took a few seconds to calm down. Then I finished editing the video of Ethan singing and posted that online, too. Around nightfall, Ethan contacted me. "Chloe, my agent just got an email. A director saw the photos you posted and wants me to audition for a small role." I didn't expect results to come this fast. I was excited. "That's amazing news." Ethan was stammering, and I got worried. "What's wrong?" "It’s just... I haven't gotten an audition invite in so long. I'm nervous. I don't have anyone here to help me prepare. If you have time... would you be willing to run lines with me?" He truly treated me like his manager now. I didn't have anything else to do, so I agreed. We agreed to meet in the lobby of his agency's building. I knew the place well. Back when I supported Tyler, a group of us fans would wait here every single day. Mostly, we were there to get "paparazzi style" candid shots of him walking to his car. When I arrived, Ethan was already waiting by the entrance. Seeing me, he jogged over. "I'll take you up." "Up to your agency?" I was surprised. I had been here hundreds of times, and not once had I been allowed inside. There is a natural barrier between fans and their idols, even for a fansite admin like me who had spent millions on the guy. Seeing my shock, Ethan assumed I didn't want to go. "Our... our breakdown room has really good snacks." His words made me struggle with whether or not to tell him: "Look, honey, as a celebrity, you need to maintain a little mystery. Don't act like a fan is your best friend." But then I thought of Tyler and decided to let it go. If Ethan actually turned into a diva one day, that would be a different kind of problem. What I didn't expect was that the moment we entered the main floor, we ran face-to-face with Tyler. Seeing me, Tyler’s eyes lit up. He ran over in three long strides. "Chloe! Are you here to see me?" Before I could say a word, Ethan’s face next to me darkened. "No," Ethan said, his voice cold. "As of right now, she’s with me." 5 Having said his piece, Ethan dragged me toward his agency's elevator like a victorious rooster. He left Tyler standing there, looking utterly pathetic. Honestly, I wanted to tell them both: I’m just a fan, not either of your girlfriends. It really wasn't necessary to make this into a cheesy teen drama. But looking at Ethan’s proud face, I kept my mouth shut. The kid had zero actual fans, so my sudden appearance and support probably caused a legitimate emotional reaction. It was normal. However, speaking of resources, Ethan’s situation was truly abysmal. It was like the agency had completely abandoned him. But strangely, despite being such an indie nobody, he somehow had his own dedicated breakdown office in the building. Most B-listers didn't even get that luxury. "I don't get many gigs, so I spend most of my time at the office. This room was originally for me and my agent, but he’s busier than me and is hardly ever here, so I just took it over." That explanation actually made sense. I had been associated with Ethan for a little while now, and I had never actually seen his agent. The man was always either picking up shipments or delivering packages to customers. His side business was clearly more important than his main career. The man was a marketing genius. "Has the agency not considered giving you a new agent?" "No other agents are willing to take me on." And I was sold again. Being an idol to someone this obscure was a nightmare. The agent was useless, the agency didn't care. The only one suffering was the fan (me). So I couldn't help myself. I started using my own connections to get him gigs. I started vetting his schedule. Fortunately, Ethan was incredibly obedient. Whatever job I told him to take, he took. Whatever gig I told him to reject, he rejected. He just did whatever I said. His compliance gave me a weird sense of mission. It felt like if he didn't become a superstar, it was purely my fault. So, apart from my real job, my whole day started revolving around Ethan. Finally, even my business partner, Liam, couldn't stand it. He called me into his office. "Are you taking this celebrity thing a little too far lately? Before, you just spent money, fine. But now I'm hearing you're practically working for the guy. How much is his agency paying you to be his manager?" "Nothing. I just feel bad for the kid." Liam clearly didn't believe me. "Chloe, how many years have we been business partners? I know exactly who you are. Keep it professional. Don't get emotionally involved." "Relax. I know what I'm doing." Celebrities were like dolls in a display case. I could spend an absurd amount of money to dress them up and make them look pretty, but I would never mix them up with my actual private life. That was exactly why I could detach from Tyler so easily, despite all the money I spent on him. But as fate would have it, things didn't go according to plan. In the morning, I had been giving Liam my solemn oath that I knew what I was doing, that I was keeping my boundaries. That very evening, my 'boundaries' showed up at my front door. I was stunned when I opened the door and saw Ethan standing there. "What did you say? You need a place to stay?" "My career isn't making money, and the agency took back my company apartment. I thought through everyone I knew, and... I don't have anyone else. Is it okay if I stay with you for a few days? As soon as I get paid, I'll move out." Lately, I had gotten Ethan some gigs, but those contracts were net-30 or net-60 for payment, so the money was slow to arrive. But having him stay at my place, this was... "You're a celebrity, sort of. If paparazzi catch you here, it won't look good." After I said that, Ethan tilted his head. "Paparazzi? Following me?" That was a fair point. Highly unlikely. Seeing my hesitation, Ethan didn't push it. "It’s okay. I understand. It was unfair of me to ask." He shouldered his backpack and started walking back to the elevator. "Where are you going?" "I'll just sleep on the agency breakdown room floor. I'll find a corner." Hearing that, my heart broke. Again. Everyone goes through hard times. When I first graduated, I was completely broke. I relied heavily on Liam to support me. I bit my lip. "Whatever, whatever. Just stay here for a few days. I'll try to expedite your payments." Ethan immediately walked back into the apartment. "Thank you. Truly. This is a huge help." 6 To be honest, at this point, I didn't even know if I was still a fansite admin. The real question was: whose favorite celebrity crashes on their fansite admin’s couch? This afternoon at the office, Liam suddenly stopped me. "We haven't hung out in ages. Dinner tonight?" "Maybe another time. I have something to do tonight." Liam frowned. "Going to another gig?" "Family stuff." Tonight, Ethan was insisting on cooking dinner as a thank-you for letting him stay. Liam’s expression relaxed. "Alright. Another time." By the time I got home, Ethan had most of the meal finished. As his fansite admin and part-time manager, I automatically pulled out my camera to start taking photos of him. Ethan set the last dish on the table and looked at my camera, confused. "Do you take that thing with you everywhere you go?" "Force of habit." I set the camera down. "You should post a status update later. Right now, the trend for male idols is 'relatable boyfriend' aesthetic. Candid, lifestyle photos get way more engagement." Ethan usually followed any advice I gave him without question. This was the first time he just looked at me and said, "Are you sure?" "Is there a problem?" Ethan smiled, a tiny, almost invisible dimple appearing at the corner of his mouth. "I'd be more than happy to." About thirty minutes later, I understood why Ethan had asked that question. The first call was from my producer friend. "Girl, your idol just posted some candid 'at home' photos. Why does his kitchen look exactly like yours? Holy shit, are you sleeping with him?" Then she paused, thinking about it. "He’s so indie, he probably doesn't have the leverage to force you. Which one of you is sleeping with who?" I barely finished explaining and hung up when Liam’s call came through. He sounded serious. More serious than I had ever heard him. "I'm ten minutes away from your apartment." "What? What are you coming to my apartment for?" Liam let out a cold laugh. "To see exactly how far you've lost your mind." Liam and I had been friends for over ten years. Technically he was my business partner, but he was family. The marketing firm we currently ran was something we had co-founded after we both left our last job. It was growing, and we were making a name for ourselves in the industry. For the last few years, since things were stable, I had picked up this celebrity hobby. Liam usually didn't interfere. The only time he had was when Tyler’s scandal hit and he called to ask if I needed help handling the fallout. It was a small issue, so I had rejected his help. He had never sounded this serious before. Ethan saw my grim expression. "Did I cause trouble? I can delete the post." I saw the comments flooding in. I shook my head. "Don't. Leave it up." Liam arrived quickly. As someone who had navigated high-stakes business deals, he had adjusted his emotions by the time I opened the door. He walked in, saw Ethan, and even greeted him politely. Liam sat on the sofa and looked at Ethan. "Chloe has mentioned you. She said she admires your talent and she’s gotten you quite a few contracts." "Chloe has been a huge help. I wouldn't say she admires my talent; I think it's more that I'm determined to work for her." Liam let out a cold scoff. "I don't care what your relationship is. A grown man staying at a single woman's apartment is never appropriate. Especially since you’re a celebrity—your status could cause serious trouble for Chloe. You're new to the industry, so it’s normal to be struggling. Peroni has a new project launching, and I'm a major investor. I can get you attached to the project immediately, and I can have them advance you the payment. The condition is that you move out of this apartment. Tonight." The director for this project was one of the biggest names in the industry. Countless actors were desperate for a chance to work with him. Even B-listers didn't always get an opportunity like this. Liam’s offer was basically handing Ethan a ladder to the A-list. I was about to speak up, but Ethan didn't even look up. He rejected it instantly. "No thank you." I stared at him, stunned. Ethan flashed a perfect, innocent smile. "An obscure nobody like me wouldn't want to embarrass Mr. Vance by ruining his project." In the end, I had to be the one to escort Liam out. He leaned against his car in the parking lot and lit a cigarette. "You like this hobby of yours. I never stepped in. I figured you were just spending money to buy happiness. But this Ethan guy... his intentions toward you aren't professional." "So what?" I looked at Liam and wanted to laugh. "Whose intentions toward me are professional? Yours?" Liam frowned. "Chloe, I—" "Enough. Go home. I know exactly what I'm doing."
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