Bob's hand was warm and insistent on my elbow, steering me through a maze of lights and fabric like he was shepherding me toward some gilded altar. I tugged twice, trying to free myself, but his grip—soft, almost gentle—was relentless. Garrett's plea still rang in my head, raw and aching, every word about my parents gnawing under my ribs. And Ashley—God, Ashley—I wanted nothing more than to turn back, to sit beside her and ask why her face looked like someone had stolen her laughter.
But Bob didn't release me.
"Come on, Chloe," he said, pulling me into the elevator with that practiced smile of his, the kind that suggested the whole world was his to offer. "You'll thank me."
I wanted to bolt back to Ashley, but the instant we stepped onto Seth's set, the air itself shifted. It wasn't just another room—it was another planet. The world tilted under my feet.
