Owned by the Spotlight

Chapter 1

The annual Golden Trophy Awards were in full swing—champagne dresses, dazzling lights, and glittering chandeliers backstage.

Sophie Lane had already followed her agent, Linda Harper, around to greet a few directors. Her smile was starting to stiffen. She knew someone had already paved the way for her behind the scenes, but the formalities still had to be done.

As she took a glass of red wine from a passing waiter, Linda leaned in close and whispered in her ear, “Mr. Grant is back in Newport City.”

“Oh?” Sophie swirled the wine in her glass, the crimson liquid reflecting her delicate features. She curled her lips into a faint smile, trying to look more excited than she felt. “Should I pick him up?”

Linda shook her head. “He said you’re to return to the estate immediately after receiving the award.”

Sophie’s hand froze mid-air. He’d made arrangements again—typical. A surge of irritation rose inside her. Biting her lip, she forced the anger down. “Linda, I’m not feeling well. I’m heading home.”

After all, the Golden Trophy was hosted by Grant Enterprises. Whether or not she won was entirely under his control. Just this once, she would be selfish.

“Ms. Lane—” Linda started, but her voice was drowned by a sudden commotion behind them. Sophie turned to look at the gathering crowd.

“It’s Ethan Riley,” Linda murmured, watching Sophie’s face closely for any reaction.

By the time Sophie returned to the mansion, clutching her award, the place was silent and dark.

Nathan Grant had probably flown back overnight and was now battling jet lag. Without hurrying, Sophie took a hot bath to ease her fatigue. Wrapped in a bathrobe, she tiptoed toward the bedroom.

Nathan hated light. When he slept, the room was pitch black—so dark one couldn’t see a hand in front of their face. At first, Sophie had stumbled her way around. Now she moved like she owned the place.

Her hand had just touched the edge of the bed when a firm grip seized her wrist from the shadows. With a startled gasp, she was pulled down and pinned beneath a familiar, dominant weight. His scent instantly enveloped her.

“Such a scared little thing, yet bold enough to come home this late?”

His deep, sultry voice brushed against her ear. Sophie froze. “You weren’t asleep?”

Nathan didn’t respond. Instead, his long fingers slid beneath the loose neckline of her robe, cupping a softness that drew a breathy moan from her. Her back arched instinctively.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“What exactly are you sorry for?”

“I should’ve come straight back after the ceremony. I shouldn’t have stayed for the after-party.” She pushed lightly against his chest, but he held one of her wrists captive. Her resistance was useless under his relentless possession.

She must’ve said something wrong, because the next thing she knew, his lips were crushing hers.

“I came to pick you up.”

He came to pick her up?

Of course. Linda was his person. She’d have reported Ethan’s appearance the moment she saw him.

Sophie’s eyes widened in the dark. She couldn’t see Nathan’s face, but she could feel his mood—stormy and dangerous. After all, as someone in her position, being late was bad enough. Getting caught talking to her ex-boyfriend, in front of her benefactor? That was worse.

But Sophie knew—Nathan’s anger wasn’t about love. It was about control.

“You’ve pissed me off, Sophie Lane.” His voice was low and threatening. He yanked open her robe and bit down on her flawless collarbone.

She whimpered, clinging to his back like a drowning woman reaching for her last breath. Her nails left delicate red trails on his skin.

Their first meeting in over two weeks passed in a whirlwind of heated possession and her whispered, breathless apologies: “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

Later, Nathan carried her into the bathroom. Sophie, eyes closed and tears still clinging to her lashes, curled up in his arms and fell into a hazy sleep.

“I hate you, Nathan Grant…”

The words were barely audible, like a sigh in the night. Nathan’s gaze darkened. He looked down at the woman nestled against him and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

---

Chapter 2

The next morning, Sophie Lane screamed as she looked at herself in the mirror. She stormed out of the bedroom, gripping the staircase railing with one hand, her other pointing furiously at the hickeys all over her neck.

“I have a shower scene today! How the hell am I supposed to shoot like this?!”

Nathan Grant glanced up from his breakfast in the grand hall downstairs, completely unbothered. “You’re not shooting today. I already had Linda call the production and take care of your schedule. Now come down and eat.”

Her anger deflated by half in an instant. Sophie let out a couple of dramatic huffs before reluctantly making her way downstairs, dropping into the chair across from him. Nathan slid a glass of milk across the table to her.

“What did you and Ethan Riley talk about last night?” he asked coolly.

He’d been watching—too far away to hear their conversation, but not far enough to miss the smile she gave Ethan, the hug, the soft words whispered like lovers.

Sophie nearly spat out her milk. Of course he saw that.

She didn’t answer his question. Instead, she deflected. “If you came to pick me up, why’d you leave without saying anything?”

“I saw you two chatting so happily. Thought I’d let you enjoy it.”

Sophie tilted her head. “Yeah, we had a pretty good talk.”

As expected, Nathan’s handsome face darkened immediately. But Sophie? She just smiled even brighter.

“Come with me to a party tonight,” he said.

“Okay.”

Sophie had already told Nathan everything about her past with Ethan Riley.

Back then, she was a senior in college. Despite majoring in acting, she had no dreams of becoming an actress. All she wanted was to graduate, settle down, and marry Ethan. But he had different plans—he’d started getting roles and signed with an agency as early as his sophomore year. The agency had big plans for him, and when they found out about the relationship, they gave him a choice: his future or her.

He didn’t choose her.

Sophie remembered how that breakup shattered her. The more she had loved him, the more bitter she became. So the girl who’d never intended to enter showbiz began auditioning like mad. She only had one goal—get famous, make Ethan regret everything.

That was when Nathan Grant showed up. The way he looked at her made no attempt to hide what he wanted. “I can put you exactly where you want to be,” he’d said.

She didn’t say yes. Not then. But three months later, after countless humiliating auditions and bit roles, she came to him. In an industry where success depended on power or patience, she realized—she didn’t have time to wait.

Wearing the most conservative gown she could find, Sophie threw Nathan a glare. The marks he left on her? Yeah, they weren’t fading anytime soon.

“If you keep staring at me like that,” he said, eyes straight ahead, “I might take it as an invitation.”

Her cheeks flushed pink. He’d been watching her this whole time?

“You beast in a suit,” she muttered under her breath, thinking of last night.

Nathan had brought her to the birthday gala of the Shaw family heiress. Both Shaw Media and Grant Enterprises were among the biggest talent agencies in the business, and the heiress—freshly returned from studying in the UK—was turning twenty.

Twenty. Such a perfect age.

Sophie stood quietly, holding a glass of wine, lost in thought. Nathan suddenly appeared beside her, leaning in with a frown. “Why are you out here in the cold? Come.”

Before she could reply, he draped his suit jacket over her shoulders.

She didn’t even realize what was happening until he’d already led her back inside. That’s when she noticed a new face in the crowd—a man trailing behind a pretty young woman.

“Besides the birthday, Shaw Media’s also announcing an engagement today,” Nathan murmured.

Sophie looked up at him.

So that’s why he brought her here. To see this? To hear it?

Her lips curled slightly. She never knew Nathan could be so childish. Ethan had already told her about the engagement during their brief conversation. And Nathan… he just wanted to know what she had whispered to Ethan, didn’t he?

What was it again?

“Congratulations.”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Nathan frowned. “You look... weird. Like you're enjoying this.”

“Nothing,” she said with a soft smile. “Just wondering what my own wedding would be like someday…”

She didn’t even finish the sentence. Nathan seized her wrist tightly.

“You belong to me, Sophie Lane,” he growled into her ear. “Only me. Marrying someone else? Over my dead body.”

Sophie frowned. When did she say anything about marrying someone else?

What the hell is wrong with him?

---

Chapter 3

It was a full week before Sophie Lane returned to the set. The marks on her body—ones that should’ve faded in three or four days—had only worsened after that night at the gala. And since her role was in a historical drama, with thin, translucent costumes, there was no hiding them. She had no choice but to ask the production to delay her scenes.

Of course, no one dared complain. The show’s producer was Grant Enterprises, after all. But the director, Howard Stone, was an old man with a serious temper.

Howard hadn’t originally chosen Sophie for the lead role. She’d replaced someone he liked better, thanks to behind-the-scenes influence. From day one, he’d made it clear he didn’t like her. And when Sophie abruptly took leave only a few days into shooting, making the entire crew wait around, Howard’s annoyance turned into rage.

Which was why, during this bath scene, he kept nitpicking her performance—fifteen takes in, still no "cut."

“Cut! Sophie Lane, do you even know how to act? Your eyes! Your expression! You’re supposed to be shy because you sense the prince watching—but you have to pretend you don’t know it. Not seduce him like some temptress!”

The crew exchanged awkward glances. It was obvious Howard was deliberately targeting her. One look at Sophie’s pale face in the water and they couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy.

Sophie shivered. Autumn had arrived, and the "hot spring" pool was long cold from all the retakes. Her assistant rushed forward with a dry towel, but Howard snapped, “What kind of actress can’t handle a little discomfort? Can’t take it? Then leave. I’ll find someone else.”

Sophie shot him a long, cold look that made Howard instinctively flinch. By the time he looked again, she was already back in the water.

“Someone from Grant Enterprises is here for a visit,” someone on set whispered suddenly.

Everyone turned at once. Silence fell.

Except for Sophie, who stayed submerged, jaw tight. Without turning her head, she said in a low, calm voice, “Director, I’m ready.”

Howard’s heart jumped when he saw that it was someone from Grant Media. He considered letting Sophie pass the take, but when the visitor stood still, silently watching Sophie in the water, a petty thought struck him: maybe this was a chance to put her in her place in front of her backer.

“Action!”

The lights lit up. Sophie began pouring icy water over her bare skin, slowly, methodically.

Howard had planned to shout “cut” again. But suddenly—on the monitor—Sophie’s eyes shifted. That one glance. The shy hesitation of a young woman, mixed with a buried determination for the future. It hit with such force that the entire character’s emotional arc came through in that single moment.

Howard froze. He was... stunned.

“Mr. Stone? Mr. Stone?” the assistant director nudged him.

Howard jolted back to reality, realizing he’d forgotten to call “cut.” The whole cast stared at him in confusion. He cleared his throat, about to speak—

“Aah!”

A sudden scream cut him off. One of the assistants pointed toward the pool—Sophie had collapsed face-first into the water.

Before anyone could react, a tall figure dashed forward, grabbed a towel, and jumped in. He wrapped Sophie up and lifted her into his arms.

“Mr. Grant!” someone gasped.

Nathan Grant’s face darkened as the cold hit him. Holding Sophie tight, he stared at Howard Stone and said coldly,
“If you want to know whether Sophie Lane can act, just check the 490,000 votes that won her Best Actress at the Golden Trophy.
As for whether you qualify as a director... that’s up for debate.”

Sophie’s lashes trembled in his arms. She’d always assumed the award was fixed—that he had used his connections to arrange it. But now… a wave of complicated emotions rose in her chest. She held him tighter.

Howard watched helplessly as Nathan walked away with her. That man’s final glare had practically sucked the oxygen from the room. Only when the others began staring at him did he snap out of it.

“Grant Media really thinks it’s above everyone else, huh?” he shouted, voice cracking. “This is my set! Sophie Lane can’t just walk off like that! I’m the director here!”

“Mr. Stone…” The assistant director tugged at his sleeve nervously. “That was Nathan Grant. The CEO of Grant Enterprises.”

Nathan… Grant?

Sophie Lane’s backer… is that Nathan Grant?

Howard's knees nearly buckled.

Nathan exuded pressure like a storm cloud. Sophie hadn’t expected him to show up, let alone jump in. She had no idea how much he’d seen. She curled up in his arms, clutching her stomach—it was the worst possible day for this. Her period had just started.

“You knew you weren’t feeling well, and still forced yourself to work. What, you think you’re made of steel?” Nathan’s voice was low and angry above her.

Sophie shivered. She nestled closer to him and murmured, “I didn’t want to make you look bad…”

Her voice was soft, nasal, like she was pouting. Nathan didn’t know where to aim his anger anymore.

“Sophie Lane,” he muttered, “at least you care about my reputation now.”

“Well, you are my man.” She was barely coherent by now, head spinning. She probably didn’t even realize what she’d just said.

Nathan stiffened. The way she buried herself in his chest made his gaze falter for a moment.

“Nathan… I don’t feel good…” she whimpered, clutching at his shirt.

---

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