My Stepmother Is A State Secret
Language: en
The live-stream chat was a toxic wasteland, a million trolls salivating at the chance to watch me—the newest "trophy wife" of the elite—crash and burn. They were practically counting down the seconds until the industry’s most spoiled, hot-tempered "Prince of Pop" flipped the table in my face. But the scene playing out on their screens was anything but expected. The invincible, arrogant young star was currently hunched in a corner, eyes rimmed with red, his knuckles white as he clutched a sheet of A4 paper filled with the most lopsided "Terms of Service" ever written. Beside him, the…