Spoiled Rotten: His Sweetest Addiction

The icy midwinter wind of Riverdale bit through the air like invisible blades, numbing the cheeks of anyone brave enough to stand outdoors.

A stretched Maybach 62 S Pullman in obsidian black glided smoothly along Lumiere Avenue. Outside the window, the world was a chaotic sea of roaring fans, flashing cameras, and shouting reporters.

Inside the climate-controlled cabin, Julian Hayes sat with his spine impossibly straight.

He wore an Italian bespoke tuxedo—hand-stitched from midnight-blue virgin wool by a historic Roman fashion house. The sharp tailoring effortlessly complemented his broad shoulders, lean waist, and striking, aristocratic facial features.

Julian Hayes reached up with long, clean fingers, loosening his blue silk bowtie just a fraction. He picked up a crystal bottle of sparkling water from the armrest console, twisted the cap off, and took a slow sip of cold water.

His dark, clear eyes remained glued to the crowd outside. A flicker of anxiety danced beneath his calm facade.

Today was the night of his girlfriend’s threat. His breathtaking, arrogant, impossibly demanding girlfriend had swore she would make a fool of him in front of the entire world if he didn't deliver today.

"Get ready. We’re stepping out in thirty seconds," Quentin, his notoriously stern agent, said coldly from the adjacent seat.

"Yeah," Julian Hayes replied, setting the water down. He adjusted his lapels and braced himself for the wall of flashing light.

It was the annual Golden Laurel Awards—the premier event of Riverdale’s entertainment industry—held at the Riverdale Exhibition Center. The grand red carpet stretched over a hundred yards from the drop-off zone straight into the grand hall.

As Julian Hayes stepped his long leg out of the Maybach, his polished leather shoes pressed into the crimson carpet. Cheers erupted instantly. He offered the flashing cameras a polished, practiced smile, waving politely at the screaming fans.

Meanwhile, Scarlett Vance was squeezed in the front row of the fan barrier, tossed around by the surging crowd like a leaf in a storm.

She wore an oversized, dark brown streetwear parka, her hood pulled low over her messy chestnut curls. Stamping her feet to fight off the freezing cold, she narrowed her sharp, beautiful almond eyes, searching the carpet until they locked onto Julian Hayes, who was currently signing autographs for frantic teenagers.

Pushing forward aggressively—ignoring the muffled curses of the people she elbowed—Scarlett Vance managed to reach the front edge of the barrier.

When Julian Hayes’s eyes swept over her, Scarlett Vance raised a gloved hand and pointed a finger straight at his nose. Using precise, exaggerated lip movements, she mouthed three words:

WHERE. IS. MY. MONEY?

Julian Hayes’s breath hitched. He averted his gaze immediately, handed the sharpie back to a fan, and allowed the security guards to usher him toward the media wall.

Knowing she couldn't tackle him on the red carpet, Scarlett Vance pulled out a VIP backstage press pass—one Julian Hayes had bribed an organizer to get for her—and slipped past the security line into the private corridors of the exhibition center.

The interior hallway was lined with high-end marble and towering gilded pillars. Celebrities and executives were chatting in small clusters, but Scarlett Vance hid in the shadows near the restrooms, waiting like a predator.

Ten minutes later, Julian Hayes finally excused himself from his co-stars. Hands casually tucked into his trousers, he trailed behind Scarlett Vance as she led him down a quiet hallway toward a utility room marked with an OUT OF SERVICE sign.

Scarlett Vance dragged him inside by his silk bowtie and slammed the door shut, locking it with a sharp click.

"Julian Hayes, you’ve been getting awfully arrogant lately," Scarlett Vance hissed, her sharp jawline set in a scowl as she glared at him under the harsh white fluorescent light. "Are you waiting for me to starve to death on the streets before you’re satisfied?!"

"Did you eat the lunch I ordered for you?" Julian Hayes asked softly, ignoring her hostility completely.

"I had no appetite! I don't have a single cent left in my account!" she snapped, stepping closer, her tone dripping with venom. "Fiona and Sophia invited me out shopping today, and I had to make up an excuse not to go because I’m broke! They’re probably laughing at me behind my back right now. Does my humiliation make you happy?!"

Without a word of defense, Julian Hayes reached out, wrapping his warm, large hands around her ice-cold fingers. He unbuttoned the bottom of his tuxedo vest, parted his crisp white shirt, and shoved her freezing hands directly against his bare, warm abdomen, using his body heat to warm her up.

Scarlett Vance didn't hesitate. She unceremoniously yanked her hands back, reached into his trousers pocket, and pulled out his iPhone.

With terrifyingly practiced speed, she unlocked it, opened his private banking app, and began transferring every single digit of his available funds directly into her own account.

Julian Hayes stood there, unmoving, allowing her to rob him blind without a shred of resistance.

He glanced down at her white sneakers, noticing her bare, pale ankles exposed to the freezing air of the unheated room. They were already turning a faint shade of purple from the cold.

Julian Hayes’s dark eyebrows knit together. He dropped to his knees, taking her left foot in his hands. "You didn't wear socks again?"

"I didn't have the money to buy any!" Scarlett Vance spat, her fingers flying across his screen.

Julian Hayes didn't get angry. On his knees on the dusty utility room floor, wearing a suit that cost more than a luxury sedan, he unlaced her sneaker, pulled it off, and placed her cold foot on his knee, cupping it gently with his warm palm. "It’s freezing outside. You’re going to give yourself frostbite."

Scarlett Vance stared at the banking app's final balance statement and let out an irritated, explosive groan.

"Why is there only two hundred and thirty thousand dollars in total?!" she shrieked. "How am I supposed to survive on this for more than a few days?! Where’s the rest of your money? Where did you hide it?!"

Julian Hayes looked up at her, his chiseled, breathtaking face illuminated by the stark light. "I didn't hide anything. That’s literally all I have left. You spent way too much last month, Scarlett Vance—you bought a new Cayenne and paid the down payment on that apartment. Where would I get more?"

"What about your new movie contract? Didn't the production studio pay your advance yet?"

"The contract hasn't been signed yet. How could they pay me?" Julian Hayes rubbed her cold toes gently. "Just wear my socks. You can't walk around like this."

He unclasped his polished black leather shoes and pulled off his thick, ultra-soft cashmere dress socks. Carefully, he slid one onto Scarlett Vance’s bare foot.

"When exactly are you getting that advance?!" Scarlett Vance kicked his hand away in annoyance, sending the half-worn sock flying. "I promised Fiona we’d go skiing in the Swiss Alps next month. If I don't have the cash to go, do you have any idea how embarrassing that will be?!"

Julian Hayes picked the cashmere sock up off the floor, caught her foot firmly, and forced the sock onto her foot before slipping her sneaker back on.

Julian Hayes had only skyrocketed to fame the previous summer, but becoming an actor had never been his dream. He came from wealth—his family, the legendary Northstar Group, ensured he never lacked anything.

By all logic, he should have been living the carefree life of an elite heir.

Except he had to support Scarlett Vance.

Both of them were currently seniors at Riverdale University, set to graduate in June. Julian Hayes’s parents gave him ten thousand dollars a month in allowance, but that was a drop in the ocean compared to Scarlett Vance’s extreme, insatiable materialism. She needed to buy something luxury every single day.

Julian Hayes was too proud to beg his parents for millions just to fund his girlfriend’s outrageous lifestyle.

So, to maintain Scarlett Vance’s lavish, decadent way of living, he had wracked his brain for quick cash. He started as an influencer, livestreaming sales until a high-profile producer scouted his breathtaking visuals for a minor villain role in a drama.

When the show aired, he unexpectedly became an overnight sensation. Offers poured in.

Julian Hayes never cared about the artistic quality of a script. He only looked at the paycheck. He took whatever paid the fastest and highest. Even after becoming an A-list rising star, he still spent his nights shouting into livestream cameras selling products, taking trashy commercial gigs, and skipping classes for brand appearances.

He worked like a man who valued money more than his own life.

Senior actors in the industry had kindly warned him: "Julian Hayes, if you want a long career, protect your reputation. Don't ruin your image by doing cheap livestreams and terrible B-movies. You'll burn out your popularity in no time."

Julian Hayes always smiled politely and thanked his seniors for the advice—and then immediately went back to doing trashy movies and midnight sales streams.

He didn't care about a long-term acting career anyway. He was only earning quick cash to keep Scarlett Vance happy. Once they graduated in June, his family would hand over a subsidiary company for him to manage, and he’d have corporate shares and a steady stream of wealth. Then, he wouldn't have to work himself to the bone.

To put it bluntly, Julian Hayes truly believed he had raised Scarlett Vance himself.

They had known each other since preschool. In kindergarten, he gave her all his holiday gift money. In elementary and high school, he handed over his entire allowance, keeping only enough to buy a cheap sandwich for lunch. Scarlett Vance’s clothes, her toys, her tuition, her first car, and even her current luxury flat—Julian Hayes had paid for every single one.

Because he had spoiled her into this extreme monster, her daily harassment and demands for money were entirely his own fault. He had indulged her without boundaries since childhood, and now, the consequences were crashing over him like a broken dam.

Scarlett Vance finally finished transferring every last cent out of Julian Hayes’s accounts.

She shoved his phone back into his chest, stomped her feet in her newly warmed shoes, and complained irritably, "Disgusting. Making me wear a man’s socks. It looks so ugly."

Julian Hayes, still half-kneeling, reached up to smooth the hem of her trousers. "Nobody’s going to see."

Scarlett Vance’s eyes suddenly caught the shimmer on his wrist—a Vacheron Constantin Traditionnelle Sapphire in rose gold. Her eyes narrowed into icy slits.

"You told me you had no money, yet you had the cash to buy a watch like this? When did you buy this? Why didn't you tell me?!"

"I didn't buy it."

Scarlett Vance grabbed his wrist, staring at the sapphire dial. "Did a luxury brand send it to you? Are they offering you an endorsement deal?"

"How could a brand like Vacheron Constantin endorse a rising star like me? My brother gave it to me as an early birthday gift."

"Right. A second-rate star like you—brands would have to be blind to endorse you." Scarlett Vance let out a cold, dismissive laugh. Without another word, she forcefully unclasped the rose-gold watch from Julian Hayes’s wrist and yanked it off. "Give it to me. A watch of this tier is wasted on you anyway."

She shoved the $390,000 timepiece directly into her parka pocket, then reached out, grabbing Julian Hayes’s bowtie to pull his face down.

"Kiss me. I have to go. I’m a busy woman, and having to come all the way here to collect my debts from you is exhausting. Next time, be smart and wire the money automatically. Don't cause me trouble, or I'll ruin you."

She referred to demanding his money as "collecting her debts." In her mind, Julian Hayes owed her, because Julian Hayes had promised in preschool that he would take care of her for the rest of his life. And a promise was a promise.

Her soft, plump lips brushed against his pale red ones for a brief second.

She pulled away, tightened her heavy coat, and turned to leave, tossing over her shoulder, "By the way, go wash your hands immediately. You just touched my feet. Have some hygiene."

They walked out of the utility room together. Julian Hayes went into the restroom on the left to wash his hands, while Scarlett Vance used the ladies' room. When she came out, Julian Hayes was still standing in the hallway waiting for her.

Scarlett Vance pulled off her cream-colored beanie and tossed it directly into Julian Hayes’s arms, scratching her messy chestnut curls. "What kind of cheap beanie is this? My head is itching like crazy."

"Did you not wash your hair today?" Julian Hayes caught the hat, instinctively folding the thin knit material into neat, precise lines.

"Of course I washed it last night! It’s definitely that cheap shampoo you bought me."

Noticing several event staff walking toward them, Scarlett Vance immediately lengthened the distance between them, whispering sharply, "As soon as you sign that new film contract, hurry up and demand the advance Remuneration for acting. Don't work for free for months like an idiot."

Julian Hayes took a wide step forward, catching her elbow. "Don't leave yet. I have a performance later—I’m singing the OST. I got you a seat in the VIP section. Stay and listen."

Scarlett Vance’s eyebrows knitted tightly, her face filled with unvarnished disgust. "Singing with that raspy voice of yours? Is it even audible? If you have any conscience left, don't go on stage. Do the audience a favor."

She yanked her arm out of his grip and walked away without looking back.

Scarlett Vance kept her head lowered, her small hands clutching her parka tight against the icy gusts sweeping down Lumiere Avenue.

With Julian Hayes’s thick cashmere socks hugging her feet, warmth radiated up her legs, making her feel as though she were walking on soft clouds. She accelerated her pace, practically trotting away from the gala venue.

Above her, the sweeping spotlights mounted on the exhibition hall ceiling danced across her shoulders in dazzling golden rings. As her silhouette vanished through the heavy rear exit doors, the glowing beams dissolved into the pitch-black night.

Julian Hayes stood quietly in the deep shadows behind the stage, his dark eyes tracking her until every trace of her presence was gone. Only then did he turn and walk toward his designated seat in the front row.

The moment he sat down, his thumb flew across his screen, sending her a message:

【My performance finishes around nine. I’ll head straight home after. If you want a late-night snack, tell me now so I can pick it up on the way.】

He waited. Minutes ticked by. Nothing.

Julian Hayes scrolled up through their chat history. A wry, self-deprecating smile touched his lips. Line after line of text painted a vivid picture of a pathetic, desperate puppy. He sent her good-morning and good-night texts without fail every single day, reported his exact schedule, sent her selfies, and quietly vented about his chaotic workload.

Scarlett Vance, meanwhile, grew more annoyed by the day. Her messages to him were almost exclusively demands for money:

【Where’s th