"Before that, I would like to request you all to not judge the entire industry from the mistakes of a single person. Everyone has worked hard to get where they were and because of a single person, everyone is looked down upon...."
Clara smiled at that, letting the media know what way the tide would turn and how she wanted it. After this, they would lynch Elliott for being a bad apple and even the other stars would soon crawl out of their holes to talk trash about him, asking to be made an example of him and banning him from the industry.
Just then, she received a signal from her assistant and gave a slight satisfied nod. Her gaze swept over the excited crowd of the journalists, who were barely hanging onto their microphones and cameras and leaned toward the microphone again.
"Before we continue. I would like to call the main person who is in the rumors right now. Elliott Ross. I think he would be the best person to give an explanation for everything that has transpired since last night.
Her words dropped into the silence like a stone. The journalists, the photographers, the restless crowd of industry insiders-everyone turned as one toward the back of the hall, waiting for his entrance.
Did the man really dare to come in front of them at this point of time? What was he going to explain? After all, the pictures and videos from last night had been enough. They'd thought that he would simply have his agent give a public apology and maybe say a few perfunctory words about being drunk and making a mistake.
But from the agent's words and demeanour, they'd come to the conclusion that Starlink had probably decided to make an example of him about going awry. And yet, now, Elliott Ross was going to be here in person...
As they saw the shadow of the person coming in, they hurried towards the door, their microphones and cameras ready. Whether it was apology or lynching, it meant ratings and money for them.
And, finally, there he was.
'Elliott.'
He stood at the doorway in a state that could only be described as wrecked. His shirt was crumpled, his collar open, his hair falling across his forehead in a tangle that hadn't seen a comb.
His eyes, bloodshot and rimmed with exhaustion, caught the harsh light of the cameras as hundreds of flashes went off at once.
The room exploded with noise and no reporter could remain silent anymore, "Elliott! Is it true you left the party with two women?"
"Did you cheat on your contract?"
"Are you addicted to booze and women? Is that why you frequent clubs? Is your innocent and fragile image a facade to fool the fans?"
"What about your tattoos? When did you get them? Didn't you say that you did not like them? Was all that lie?
The questions flew like daggers, one louder than the other, while the man standing there looked around, stunned.. The cameras clicked and buzzed, a storm of flashes capturing every angle of his ragged appearance.
Clara pressed a hand to her chest and raised her voice, pretending alarm. "Everyone, please wait for a few moments! Please do not rush to our artist like this. There seems to be some miscommunication here…"
Her words were ignored as the mob surged forward, microphones shoved in his face and the sound of questions and shouting bouncing off the hall's walls.
But Clara was pleased. More than pleased. She had imagined this moment for weeks. Elliott Ross, the perfect golden boy, reduced to a spectacle. And she was the one orchestrating the fall.
She stepped down from the podium, an dpretended to hurry towards him, so as to save him from the cameras. But in fact, she was giving them more time. If she indeed had to protect him, all she had to do was order the bodyguards behind him step forward.
She frowned as the crowd pressed tighter, and she lost sight of the man for a few moments. Dam* it! She wanted to watch everything up close.
Then, suddenly, something shifted.
The media, noisy and unstoppable usually, went dead silent. As if they'd seen a ghost.
Clara went up on her tip toes and tried to look at what they were seeing but then, she felt her own eyes widen. Because standing right next to the disheveled Elliott was another Elliott. Immaculate looking, as if untouched and impervious to the chaos around him. The way he usually looked.
The gasps came then... And then, loud snaps of more pictures being clicked... This time, the journalists did not dare to question recklessly and the guards soon stepped forward to clear a path.
Clara heard a few confused people around her whispering and wondering about what was going on, but she was at a loss...
And then, she heard another round of gasps when the media caught a glimpse of his back.. They went wild and she heard many reporters hurriedly begin to live stream.. Clara hurried to walk forward but just as she reached the podium, Skylar stepped into her way.
Clara glared at him," Get out of my way. I need to talk to Elliott."
"Sister Clara. I've been trying to reach you desperately since last night because Elliott wanted to talk to you. You didn't have the time. And now, he doesn't have it. Just be patient and stand there."
Clara moved to push him out of the way but before she could, two other guards stepped forward blocking her way and Skylar said," Tsk tsk. These are his personal guards, sister, not the ones arranged by you. Let's not provoke them."