Five years is enough time for Hollywood's power structure to reshuffle multiple times—and enough for a rising star to transform into a permanent fixture in the firmament.

Five years later, Ava Miller bore little resemblance to that bewildered Kansas girl.


She'd become Hollywood's youngest A-list actress with her own production company. No longer merely chosen, she now did the choosing—wielding scripts and investment capital, determining others' fates. She graced Time's cover and addressed global audiences as a UN Women Goodwill Ambassador. Her name had evolved from mere actress to cultural symbol representing independence, intelligence, and beauty.

During these years, the [Goddess Halo System] had fallen mostly silent, occasionally granting auxiliary skills like "Language Proficiency" and "Charm Enhancement" when her charm value reached certain thresholds. Ava had nearly forgotten its existence.

She no longer needed the system's guidance. She'd leveraged its initial gift into genuine power and autonomy.


May, Cannes, French Riviera.

The annual film festival transforms this sleepy Mediterranean town into the world's cultural epicenter. The air crackles with money, champagne, and ambition. Ava has arrived with her company's latest production.


Tonight, an ultra-exclusive dinner unfolds aboard a superyacht in the harbor. The guest list includes only the obscenely wealthy or genuinely aristocratic—the true apex of the global elite.

Ava wears a black backless gown, its hem pooling across the deck like spilled ink. Champagne flute in hand, she discusses distribution strategies with a European studio president. Five years have stripped away her naivety; every gesture now radiates composure, confidence, and the unmistakable presence of someone accustomed to power.

She's grown accustomed to being the focal point of any gathering, to the male gazes that blend desire, admiration, and strategic calculation.

But tonight, she notices a gaze unlike the others.

It comes from the yacht's opposite end, from a relatively quiet corner.

A man leans against the railing, conversing casually with a Silicon Valley venture capitalist.

He appears about thirty, wearing an impeccably tailored suit without a tie, his understated presence contrasting with the surrounding ostentation.

Unlike others, he makes no move to approach her. When their eyes meet, he shows neither surprise nor awe—just calm assessment before offering a polite nod and returning to his conversation.

His composure suggests that Ava's face—which has driven the world to distraction—is merely an ordinary sight to him.

"Who is that?" Ava asks Julian quietly, maintaining her poise.

Julian follows her gaze, his expression shifting subtly. "Hunter Shaw," he murmurs. "The phantom of tech and clean energy. No one knows exactly how wealthy he is—just that the companies he's acquired recently outnumber all the films you and I have seen combined. Stay clear of him, Ava. He's not someone to be taken lightly."

Ava raises an eyebrow without comment, but for the first time in years, she feels genuine curiosity about a man.

Eventually, the Silicon Valley executive brings Hunter to their circle.

"Ava, Julian," the executive announces warmly, "meet Hunter, an old friend."

"An honor, sir," Julian immediately deploys his most polished business smile.

Hunter's gaze passes briefly over Julian before settling on Ava. This time, it's a direct, unfiltered assessment. His eyes are deep as the night sea, seemingly capable of seeing through pretense.

"Miss Miller," he says, his voice younger than she expected, "I've seen your film. Marcus transformed you into a work of art."

"Thank you," Ava smiles. "That's the director's achievement."

Hunter offers no response to this, instead turning to his tech friend. "I recently acquired a small island in Greece. Beautiful views, clean air—much better than Silicon Valley. I'm staying there next month. You should come fishing if you're free."

Ava's smile remains fixed, but she instinctively understands his comment was meant for her ears.

The dinner ends at midnight. Early the next morning, Julian knocks on Ava's suite door at the Carlton, holding an elegantly crafted envelope, his expression unreadable.

"Take a look." He hands her the letter.

The letter, from Hunter's assistant, contains an exquisitely formal invitation—Mr. Hunter cordially invites Miss Ava Miller and her team to his private Greek island for "a week of relaxation." All expenses, including private jet transportation, would be covered by Mr. Hunter.

"This is the most direct and arrogant approach I've ever witnessed," Julian remarks. "He doesn't even pretend to be subtle."

Ava studies the invitation, a cool smile playing at her lips. "Decline," she says decisively. "Tell him my schedule is fully committed."

She will not become another trophy in some billionaire's collection.

Julian complies immediately. To their surprise, the response arrives within thirty minutes.

No persistence, no pleading—just two brief sentences.

"It would be my honor to have you as my guest."

"This island will always remain open for you, awaiting your visit whenever you choose."

Reading this response, even Julian—accustomed to every negotiation tactic—can't help but whistle. "This guy... he's playing chess while everyone else is playing checkers," he remarks.

In the days that follow, Hunter vanishes as if he never existed, sending no further messages. Ava quickly puts the matter aside, immersing herself in her packed schedule.

Until a week later, during a production meeting at her Los Angeles office, Julian bursts in clutching a document, his expression grave.

He places the document before Ava, and everyone notices the prominent logo on its cover—"Aether," Hunter's revolutionary electric vehicle company preparing for its highly anticipated IPO.

"They're seeking a global brand ambassador," Julian says quietly, though everyone in the room hears clearly. "They've approached us through official business channels."

Ava opens the file. When she sees the figure in the compensation column, even she can't prevent her pupils from dilating slightly.

The number is astronomical—more than triple her current market rate.

The conference room falls into stunned silence, everyone staring at the figure.

Ava closes the file and looks up at Julian.

Julian's expression is uncharacteristically serious. He leans down to whisper in her ear, his voice for her alone:

"Ava, you need to consider this very carefully."