I stumbled into the cold studio bathroom, the chrome glinting under the harsh fluorescent lights. The sweet, cloying smell of air freshener filled the air.
My fingers fumbled with my phone, calling Maya.
“Leo? Where are you?” Her voice was tight, thin with stress.
“Bathroom. Julian just offered to ‘save’ me if I sign over my rights.” My throat felt thick, the words barely escaping.
“Don’t you dare sign anything,” Maya snapped. “Our lawyer just pulled the records. That $450,000 default notice Julian was talking about?”
I leaned against the cool porcelain sink. “Yeah?”
“It didn’t come from the state tax board, Leo. Not even close.”
A chill snaked up my spine. “Then who…?”
Maya paused, her breath catching. “It’s from an offshore corporation. V-Kross Enterprises.”
The name hung in the air, heavy and sickening. V-Kross. My mind raced, trying to place it. Veronica Kross. Julian’s mother. It was her maiden name.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror, my own face pale and unfamiliar. Julian’s family. My best friend’s mother had orchestrated this. Not a mistake. Not some studio error. This was deliberate.
My stomach twisted, a wave of nausea washing over me.
I heard hushed voices just outside the bathroom door. Julian’s voice, low and conspiratorial.
“…just a liability, Marcus,” Julian said, his words muffled but clear. “He’s fragile. Always has been since his dad.”
Then, the gruff, impatient tone of Marcus Oakridge, head of Apex Studios. “We need this contract signed today, Julian. No delays, no drama.”
“And I’m telling you, he’s a risk,” Julian countered. “Better to cut ties now. Before the press conference. Before he causes more trouble.”
I heard a soft tapping sound, then a distinct pointing sound against the wooden door. Julian was pointing at my dressing room, making it clear I was the target. The betrayal cut deeper than any financial blow.
“Leo? Are you still there?” Maya’s voice broke through my daze.
“Yeah,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “They know I’m in here.”
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