Chapter 158 – A Cloud of Scandalous Rumors
At this very moment, everyone’s eyes were fixed on the conversation between Renly and Chanel. Around Chanel, more than a dozen fans—men and women alike—had gathered, each with an expression of sheer disbelief.
Although the primary purpose of a film festival is to bridge the gap between actors and their fans, allowing them to meet face-to-face and talk freely, in reality, such genuine, casual interaction was almost impossible. Let alone joking with each other.
This was nothing short of extraordinary.
Involuntarily, everyone’s gaze was drawn toward them. There was no cheering, no screaming, yet the focus of attention quietly shifted. Reporters and fans alike turned their eyes in the same direction. Natalie, standing in the centre, was still the star of the scene, but the attention on her had already begun to scatter and drift away.
Tessa Britton stood right beside Chanel, a little slow to react. She was only fifteen, and the one reason she had come to the Toronto Film Festival was Ryan Gosling.
Two years ago, her sister had casually rented a DVD called The Notebook. With no expectations, they watched it to pass the time—yet to her surprise, Tessa had fallen in love with Ryan. Since then, she had been waiting for the chance to meet him in person, to express her admiration properly. But that chance never came.
At the screening of Blue Valentine two days ago, the crowd was overwhelming. She hadn’t managed to squeeze into the front row; all she saw was the back of Ryan’s head. Forget saying hello—she couldn’t even catch a proper glimpse of him. The frustration still stung.
Then she heard Ryan would make a surprise appearance today for the screening of a film called Buried. Hardly any fans knew about it, which made it a golden opportunity. She hadn’t found Ryan—but she had unexpectedly run into Natalie Portman. That was still something.
But… who on earth was this man in front of her?
Tessa tilted her head, scrutinising him with a critical eye. What she found were those deep brown eyes—calm, yet profound, carrying a quiet undercurrent as though a hidden stream ran beneath them, reflecting starlight as it flowed. For a fleeting second, the breathtaking sight made her heart stop.
Just then, the man seemed to notice her gaze. His brows lifted ever so slightly, his eyes glinting with a touch of curiosity, of inquiry, of faint puzzlement. After a brief pause, he broke into a warm smile. That bright, sunlit smile spread from his eyes to his lips, unfolding in graceful lines.
And in that instant, the world seemed to stop spinning.
Suddenly, laughter and shrieks burst out around her—not deafening, yet like thunder in Tessa’s ears. Startled back to her senses, she realised the crowd was surging and bustling. She felt like a paper boat tossed in the waves, utterly at the mercy of the tide. Yet her eyes refused to leave that man’s figure, just as he turned and walked away. That, too, was why the commotion had erupted.
Her gaze followed him as he moved farther and farther away. Her heartbeat pounded, steady and forceful, each thud echoing in her ears until the journalists’ flashbulbs finally drowned his silhouette in a flood of light.
Unable to help herself, Tessa turned her head, carefully tapping Chanel on the shoulder.
“Hi, my name’s Tessa. May I ask… is that man an actor?”
If anyone else had heard that question, they would have burst out laughing. But since the question was directed at Chanel, she didn’t mind in the least. She answered cheerfully, “An actor? I’d guess so. He’s the lead in today’s film.”
Today’s film? Tessa froze for a moment. She had come entirely for Ryan, knowing nothing about the movie itself. “What’s his name?”
“Renly Hall.”
“Renly, look this way!” “Smile, smile, Renly!” “Over here, Mr. Hall!”… As if in direct response to Tessa’s question, the chorus of reporters’ shouts drowned out Chanel’s reply, filling the red carpet with their calls.
At last, the reporters had snapped back to attention. Even if they had no interest in Buried, and even if Renly himself didn’t strike them as particularly exciting, one thing was certain: they weren’t about to miss the chance to spin a rumour about Renly and Natalie.
Just a few days earlier, a reporter had spotted the two together, supposedly on their way to watch a film. When approached, both had insisted it was nothing more than a chance encounter and some casual conversation, before parting ways. Natalie then went on to see the movie with Benjamin, the choreographer for Black Swan.
Now, that excuse looked flimsy at best. Natalie had actually shown up at the screening of Buried. She claimed it was to support a friend—but to reporters, it clearly suggested something more. How could they possibly let go of the other half of this scandal?
Their reaction instantly set off the fans’ excitement. The crowd joined in with their own shouts and screams, the enthusiasm of the Toronto Film Festival bursting forth in full. The entire screening scene became lively, even exuberant—a level of commotion almost unthinkable for an independent film.
Natalie’s smile had begun to stiffen. She had already missed her chance to slip away. If she were to turn and leave now, all her efforts would have been wasted. So she had no choice but to stay. Still, staying wasn’t entirely bad—at least she could be on hand to smooth things over while Renly faced the reporters, keeping the situation within her grasp as best she could.
Even so, Natalie disliked the feeling. The helplessness of watching the spotlight drift away, the sting of being quietly sidelined, the humiliation of still standing under the lights yet being edged toward irrelevance—it was unbearable.
Her mood grew restless, but before losing control, she steadied herself with a breath, regaining composure. Adjusting her smile, she relaxed her posture and followed the crowd’s gaze toward Renly, who was now walking straight toward her. With a polite and friendly demeanour, she presented herself first. She knew very well he wasn’t someone easy to deal with; she would need to be at her sharpest.
Under the eyes of the crowd, Renly and Rodrigo finally reached the end of the red carpet, where Natalie was waiting. Fans and reporters erupted again, their shouts cresting to a fever pitch.
Natalie stepped forward with gracious ease, greeting Renly with a warm hug that conveyed the closeness of friendship. Renly, gentlemanly as ever, gave her a light embrace in return, as if nothing at all were amiss—just two friends, nothing more.
All the cameras were trained on Natalie and Renly. Without realising it, Rodrigo had been left out. Judging from his expression, however, he seemed to be enjoying the neglect—it eased his nerves considerably.
After releasing their embrace, Renly and Natalie turned to face the reporters, smiling as they struck a pose. In that instant, the flashing lights reached their peak, pouring down like a waterfall. The entrance of the theatre was awash with brilliance, so much so that even the afternoon sunlight behind them seemed to pale in comparison.
Renly knew perfectly well that Natalie’s appearance was now irreversible. No matter how he might try to explain himself, the media would inevitably prod and pry at their supposed scandal. At least for today, it couldn’t be avoided. Since Natalie had shown up uninvited, he didn’t mind making the most of her star power to lay a solid foundation for Buried’s publicity before addressing the issue later.
Through her own lens, Daisy studied the pair and couldn’t help but feel a strange absurdity: a sense of dissonance.
It wasn’t that they looked mismatched or that there was any gap in status or appearance. Rather, from their outfits to their aura, there was a subtle discord. Natalie hadn’t worn a formal evening gown today. Her attire wasn’t overly grand, but it clearly showed she had put thought into it—fashionable, with a sharp edge that highlighted her intelligence. For the screening of an independent film like Buried, she easily commanded attention.
But Renly? Today, he wore a smoke-grey pinstripe shirt, collarless in design, giving off a youthful, casual air. It emphasised not so much British restraint as French elegance and charm. He paired it with dark grey tailored trousers and cobalt-blue deck shoes, exuding an artist’s aura—cultured yet faintly decadent, relaxed yet tinged with unruliness. It was a blend of commoner grit and aristocratic refinement, a contradiction that perfectly embodied the essence of independent cinema.
Photographed separately, neither looked out of place. But together, the mismatch became glaring. Natalie in particular appeared too formal, too deliberate, as though she was trying too hard. And as a guest, her brilliance was almost overwhelming, so much so that it came across as aggressive.
It wasn’t normal. Not normal at all.
At first, Daisy thought it was just her woman’s intuition playing tricks on her. But after carefully observing their expressions, she found the situation increasingly intriguing—clearly, the two had exchanged words beforehand, yet now they were on entirely different frequencies. But why?
Screams, flashing lights, cheers, and shouted questions all tangled together, and the scene boiled over like water at a rolling boil. At exactly 4:15 p.m. local time in Toronto, the premiere of Buried had turned into a black hole at the heart of the city, steadily pulling in all the light and attention around it. No one had anticipated this.
At last, the noise began to die down. But before Renly could even speak, a reporter impatiently called out, “Renly, Natalie came here today especially to support the premiere. Are the two of you dating?”
The cloud of scandal exploded on the spot.
T/N – If you like this novel, please give a review or rating on Novel Updates