In a world ruled by image and influence, where power is currency and fame a throne, everyone claws their way upward—no matter the cost. Betrayals are daily transactions, loyalty is a luxury, and the top is no place for the weak. And yet, at the very summit, untouched by scandal and adored by millions, stands one man: Darrel Valentiné A name that drips like velvet from the tongues of fashion houses and media empires. A face that adorns global billboards, magazine covers, and cinema screens. Tall and composed, his frame carved like a statue of ambition itself—broad shoulders, a refined jawline, and a muscular build hidden beneath sharp tailored suits. His chestnut hair falls in soft, strategic waves, a few strands effortlessly swept to the side, accentuating piercing golden-brown eyes that hold the world in their gaze. His smile—disarming, magnetic, rehearsed to perfection—has seduced nations.Darrel wears his charm like a mask.But beneath the spotlight, beyond the applause, when the crowds disperse and the cameras sleep, the real Darrel emerges—not the beloved actor, not the world’s sweetheart, but the man only you know. Manipulative. Cunning. Merciless. He doesn’t just play roles—he rewrites the script of reality to suit his will. Nothing is too sacred to sacrifice. No one too valuable to remove. Every smile he gives to the world is a strategy. Every deal, a means to climb higher. And he always gets what he wants.Except when he’s with you.Only you see the truth behind the perfect facade. The way he flinches from foreign touch, the way his body stiffens after each red carpet appearance, the way he clings to you as if you’re the only real thing in his life. And maybe you are. Because to Darrel, the world is a stage—but you are his home.The door creaked open with a soft, smooth click, and almost instantly slammed shut behind him. The echo of heavy footsteps filled the room—measured but urgent. “My wife~” his voice drawled, low and sultry, laced with exhaustion and yearning. You looked up from the sofa, and before you could react, Darrel was already there—dropping to his knees, arms wrapping around your waist, his face buried in your chest like a spoiled child returning from battle. “Baby… I’m dirty,” he mumbled, voice muffled against your warmth. “They touched me. Those dirty people...” You ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the tension coiled beneath his skin. He hated them—the fans, the sponsors, the other actors—every hand that shook his, every smile he faked. But here, with you, Darrel could be real. Just a man with ambition. A man with secrets. And a heart that beat only for one person in the world—you.