Allyson stood over Byron, looking down at his perfectly composed face. Her heart was beating so fast she felt dizzy, but she forced herself to commit to the bit.

Her heart hammered furiously against her ribs. This was it. Time to be the most obnoxious, clingy woman alive. She desperately hoped Joanne was watching closely, and that this ridiculous stunt would make her sick to her stomach. She leaned down suddenly. She slammed one hand against the back of his armchair, effectively caging him in.

The other guests gasped. Charlie's hand jerked, spilling water over the rim of his glass.

Byron didn't flinch. He just looked up at her, so close that he could smell the faint scent of her rose perfume.

Allyson stared directly into his dark eyes. She lowered her voice, trying to sound seductive, but mostly just sounding congested.

"Mr. Estes," she started, her voice echoing in the quiet room. "Do you know the difference between you and the stars?"

Byron's spine stiffened. A flash of utter disbelief crossed his eyes.

The live chat completely froze. Everyone was waiting for the ice-cold superstar to shove her away in disgust.

But Byron didn't push her. He tilted his chin up slightly, his voice a low, gravelly hum. "What?"

Allyson gritted her teeth, fighting the urge to die of embarrassment. She delivered the punchline. "The stars are in the sky. But you... are in my heart."

The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush bone.

Melody slapped a hand over her mouth, a choked snort escaping her lips.

The live chat exploded.

Help!

I am physically cringing!

My toes are curling into another dimension!

Joanne jumped up from her seat, trying to play the peacemaker. "Allyson, please don't make such inappropriate jokes with a senior-"

Allyson ignored her completely. She kept her arms locked around Byron's chair.

Byron's Adam's apple bobbed. He lowered his eyelashes, hiding the intense, burning heat in his gaze.

Instead of getting angry, he went perfectly still. His dark eyes locked onto hers with a heavy, unreadable intensity that made the air between them suddenly feel too thin to breathe. He didn't lean in, but the sheer weight of his silence felt like a physical touch.

"Is that so?" he asked, his voice a flat, deadpan drawl that betrayed absolutely nothing.

The deep, vibrating timbre of his voice sent a violent shockwave straight down Allyson's spine. Her brain short-circuited. The tips of her ears turned a violent shade of red under his piercing, unyielding stare.

She jerked backward as if she had been burned, her stiletto catching on the rug. She stumbled, barely catching her balance.

Byron calmly picked up his coffee mug and took a slow sip, perfectly hiding the slight upward curve of his lips. He looked completely unbothered, the picture of cold restraint.

But the high-definition cameras had caught it all. The internet was already losing its mind over the visible flush on Allyson's ears and the undeniable tension between them.

Joanne stared at them, her chest heaving with ragged breaths. She couldn't stand the fact that she was being ignored.

She walked over to her massive pink suitcases. She looked helplessly at the male guests.

Fernando stood up, offering a polite smile, ready to help her.

But before Fernando could take a step, Byron stood up. He set his coffee mug down on the glass table with a sharp clink.

He walked straight past Joanne and her pink luggage.

He stopped in front of Allyson's battered, twenty-four-inch suitcase.

Byron reached out with a long arm and wrapped his large hand around the handle of Allyson's cheap suitcase.

He lifted it effortlessly, turning his head to look at Allyson, who was still standing frozen in shock.

"Which room?" he asked. His voice was cold, but the action was undeniably commanding.

Allyson blinked, stammering as she pointed toward the stairs. "Uh, second floor. Far right."

Byron didn't say another word. He carried her suitcase up the stairs, his long legs taking the steps two at a time.

The people in the living room were left picking their jaws up off the floor.

In the live chat, Joanne's fans were having a meltdown, screaming about how unfair it was that Byron helped the villain but ignored their idol.

Joanne stood next to her pink bags, her face cycling through shades of red and white. Her nails were digging into her palms again.

Fernando cleared his throat, stepping forward to grab Joanne's bags, but the gesture felt entirely hollow now. Byron had stolen all the oxygen in the room.

Allyson watched Byron disappear down the hallway. A rush of adrenaline hit her. She turned around and looked at Joanne, deciding to strike while the iron was hot.

She plastered a look of exaggerated surprise on her face. "Oh my god, you look so familiar," Allyson said loudly. "Aren't you... wait, what was your name?"

Joanne forced her sweet smile back into place. "Allyson, we just saw each other last night at the banquet."

Allyson slapped her forehead. "Right! Now I remember! You're the actress who stole my role in City of Stars!"

The words dropped like an anvil.

Joanne's sweet mask shattered into a million pieces. She waved her hands frantically. "You're misunderstanding things. That was the director's choice-"

Allyson took a step closer, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "The director's choice? You mean bringing your own investors to kick out the original cast member is a normal choice?"

The other guests stared in absolute shock. Nobody dropped industry secrets like this on live television.

Dexter Finch was screaming in the control room, ordering the cameras to zoom in on Joanne's panicked face.

The live chat instantly flipped. Sane viewers started questioning Joanne's innocent persona.

Tears welled up in Joanne's eyes. She let them spill over her cheeks, looking like a kicked puppy.

Just then, Byron walked back down the stairs.

Joanne looked up at him, her tear-filled eyes pleading for him to save her, to defend her honor.

Byron reached the bottom of the stairs. His dark eyes swept past Joanne's crying face without a single flicker of emotion. He didn't even pause.

He walked straight to Allyson.

"Suitcase is put away," he muttered, low and flat. Then he walked past her, heading toward the kitchen.

The total, brutal dismissal hit Joanne harder than a physical slap. Her pride was annihilated.

She let out a choked sob, covered her face with her hands, and ran up the stairs, leaving Fernando to awkwardly drag her bags behind her.

Allyson watched her run away, a deep, satisfying thrill rushing through her veins.

Melody leaned over and gave Allyson a subtle thumbs-up. "Nice work," she whispered.

Allyson smirked. She turned and walked toward the kitchen, curious to see what her fake husband was doing.

When she walked in, Byron was standing with his back to her, pouring a glass of water. Hearing her footsteps, the corner of his mouth twitched upward, just for a second.