His Tattoo, My Secret
Chapter 3: Kitchen Drama and Scandalous Invitations
The show is live, with viewer comments scrolling across the screen.
It’s one of those trendy hybrid cooking-and-confessional shows, filmed in a glammed-up open kitchen with a little live audience just offscreen. The studio lights beat down, making my makeup itch. Somewhere, onions sizzled—someone else’s nerves showing. The chat moves so fast you barely catch the words.
The host grinned, all teeth and TV charm: “Alright, ladies, time for a little challenge! Natalie, Aubrey—let’s see what fate’s got in store for you. Draw a card!”
Of course, all these segments are set up in advance. Natalie draws first and gets the show’s main event:
[Cook a meal yourself and invite a friend to the show to dine.]
There’s a little jingle and fake confetti on the screen. Natalie’s smile is flawless as she holds up her card, playing to the cameras like she was born for this.
As soon as the task appears, the comments go wild:
[Comment: This task was totally set up so our Natalie would invite the young heir!]
[Comment: The show is so lucky—if the young heir shows up, ratings will skyrocket!]
[Comment: Ahhh, I really want to see Natalie and Carter show off their love! Can’t wait!]
You could practically hear the squeals through the screen. People love a rich-boy-meets-Hollywood-romance.
The “Carter” they mention is Carter Sinclair, famous for his family’s power, his jawline, and a car collection that would make Jay Leno jealous.
If you ask anyone in the Valley or the Hamptons, Carter Sinclair’s name is legendary. Rumor has it he can tell a 1967 Shelby GT500 from a mile away just by the sound. Paparazzi have practically set up camp outside his penthouse.
His rumors with Natalie Brooks started about a year ago, when she posted a photo of a dazzling, color-shifting silver Lamborghini.
Over the past year, Natalie Brooks has repeatedly shown off matching items with Carter Sinclair. Not long ago, she even landed an endorsement deal for a clothing brand under the Sinclair Group.
Slowly, her fans started to believe they were living out a real-life modern romance: a popular actress marrying into a wealthy family.
People built entire TikToks about their “fairytale”—it was rich people drama with a sprinkle of Disney magic. Fans shipped them hard, posting edits to Taylor Swift tracks.
The whole thing reached a climax three days ago.
Carter Sinclair posted a bold, suggestive photo on his Instagram: his waist bore a large begonia tattoo, and a hand with a sky-high-priced pink diamond ring pressed against his abs. The red-nailed fingers pointed right at the center of the begonia—the kind of shot that could melt a preacher’s resolve.
That night, Natalie Brooks posted a photo of a ring—identical to the pink diamond ring in the earlier photo.
It nearly broke the internet. Many thought it was an official announcement, and Natalie Brooks’s fans flooded Twitter with congratulations for her and the young heir, wishing them a hundred years of happiness.
Some fans even started planning virtual wedding playlists and posted DIY ring replicas. The memes got out of hand. If there’d been a Vegas betting pool for celebrity marriages, the odds would have tanked.
But I know it’s fake.
Because that hand is mine…
That diamond ring is my diamond ring…
That photo was taken when I was on top of Carter Sinclair, in a moment of happiness…
It was one of those nights with music playing low, city lights flickering outside the window, and Carter tracing lazy circles on my back. The tattoo, the ring, the way his body arched up to meet mine—no filter could ever capture that heat.
The original photo actually had Carter Sinclair wearing cat ears, his eyes half-closed in a daze—that version is on my phone. When he posted it, he cropped out the top half, leaving only the lower part.
He said the world couldn’t handle the full thing. I said the world didn’t deserve it anyway.
I don’t know why Natalie Brooks posted that ring photo, but judging by her current behavior, it’s clearly no accident.
The host, waving the task card, turned to Natalie: “Natalie, who are you inviting to dinner? Is it the guy everyone’s dying to see?”
Natalie glanced at the comments, hesitated, then said, “He’s usually very busy, but if I call him, he’ll usually drop everything to come over.”
Her cheeks flushed, looking shy: “I’ll give him a call.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear and gave the camera a coy look, as if she were the star of a Hallmark movie. The audience probably ate it up.
The host leaned in, playing to the fans: “So, how do you have him saved in your phone?”
Natalie flashed her phone screen. The contact was saved as a single letter: [C]
It was subtle as a neon sign. The comments blew up, half in awe, half rolling their eyes.
People immediately accused her of showing off her love again.
Natalie curled her lips into a smile and dialed the number.
She made sure the camera caught her painted nails tapping out the call, the letter [C] gleaming on the screen. For a split second, the tension in the studio was thicker than a midtown traffic jam.
