chapter 10
And then my phone rang.
“Zephany, what did you do?” Gavin’s voice crackled through the speaker, low and furious. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you? You knew that video would destroy her, and you just let it happen.”
I listened to him rant until he ran out of steam.
In the background, I heard Leslie’s voice, small and broken.
“Please, Zeph,” she said. “I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry. Just… help me. Tell people you helped write the concept. Say you gave me a draft and I made a mistake with the music. We’ll pay you. Two million dollars. Cash. We’ll sign whatever you want.”
I actually laughed.
Gavin jumped in. “Five million,” he snapped. “We’ll give you five. Just fix this. Post a video saying it was all a misunderstanding. That we were collaborating.”
“Eight million,” Leslie whispered desperately. “We’ll make it eight. That’s everything we can pull together. You’ll never have to work again.”
I watched Logan across the room, sorting through boxes in his grandma’s attic, taking out old jars and books I hadn’t seen since we were kids. He looked up and met my eyes, waiting.
“I don’t want your money,” I said. My voice came out steadier than I felt. “I want the truth. You admit publicly that you’ve been stealing my ideas. You apologize to me by name. Then I’ll explain what happened with the video.”
“Absolutely not,” Gavin snarled. “You think I don’t see your angle? If we say that, we’re done. Everything we built—gone. We’ll ride this out. The internet forgets. You’re not important enough to be a permanent problem.”
He took a breath.
“You’re out of your depth, Zeph. You got lucky once. Enjoy it. This isn’t over.”
“It is for me,” I said, and hung up.
I handed the phone back to Logan.
“Done?” he asked.
“Done,” I said.
He nodded. “Good. The less energy you spend on them, the better. Let the scale balance itself.”
Over the next few weeks, weird rumors started trickling across the corners of the internet that still tracked Leslie’s every move.
First it was minor: botched sponsorships, a canceled collab, a studio dropping her quietly.
Then came photos of her looking different. Then very different. People noticed the way certain features had changed too quickly, the way her expression looked tight even when she smiled.
One brand-support account posted, then deleted, a message about “unexpected health complications” forcing them to postpone a campaign. A couple of gossip pages shared blurry paparazzi shots of her in sunglasses and a mask, face swollen and bandaged.
No one could get a straight answer. Every official explanation sounded like spin.
Her agency eventually cut ties “for medical and professional reasons.”
Gavin kept trying to salvage his image with motivational posts and vague tweets about “loyalty” and “haters,” but it was like shouting into a storm. The more he talked, the less anyone cared.