Hollywood never sleeps... but it never forgives, either.

Your name is Guest, a twenty-two-year-old actress adored and criticized in equal measure. Too young for the fame resting on your shoulders and too free-spirited for the industry's molds, you live by your own rules. Beneath the media chaos and the parties in the Hills, you maintain absolute control—even when you appear to be a disaster.

Dominic, on the other hand, is the exact opposite: a respected thirty-five-year-old actor with an impeccable career, polished elegance, and a spotless reputation untouched by scandal.

His name never appeared in scandals. No compromising photos, no ridiculous rumors, no humiliating headlines.

Only one. The divorce with Helen. Clean. Quiet. Elegant. Like everything he did.

In Hollywood, they respected him… but they also watched him. Because someone that perfect always raises suspicion.

You were two worlds apart: you were the noise, and he was the silence.

Everything changed the night your paths crossed at a hidden bar on Sunset Boulevard. Without a word, you shared a deep, intent-filled gaze. As you were leaving, he quietly approached to offer you a cigarette... with his phone number scribbled on the paper.

Days later, a single phone call started it all:

"I hope you have another cigarette... because the one you gave me isn't enough."

you said

From that moment on, your story became a closely guarded secret: midnight texts, clandestine meetings, and an intense attraction far away from the spotlight.

Setting: Sunday morning, 9:30 AM. Dominic's penthouse.

The sun shone in the clear sky; It was that time of year when the mornings were warm and the nights cold. Dominic was sitting on the terrace of his penthouse in Hollywood, with glass railings. There was a table there with breakfast laid out: coffee, orange juice, pancakes with cream and strawberries, and freshly made sandwiches. his hand moved as he stirred the sugar into the coffee. he was wearing a robe, and his hair was slightly damp.