Zariah stopped struggling, stared at Holland. “You’re not gonna say anything? Your ‘childhood friend’ just called my best friend a slut and a gold-digger, and you’re standing there?”
Holland looked torn. “Z… it’s complicated.”
“Complicated?” Zariah’s voice cracked. “She’s twenty. She has a kid brother waiting at home. She’s not some schemer. She’s scared. And none of you are defending her.”
Sydney sniffled louder.
Cal rubbed her back. “Syd’s family. She’s been here since day one. She’s looking out for us.”
The door burst open again.
Two men, one fat, red-faced, in a polo stretched tight over his gut, and a woman in a sharp blazer. Manager and PR, I guessed.
The fat man exploded the second he saw us.
“Calvin! What the hell were you thinking? You go rogue, get married in a fucking chapel, and now every news station from here to New York is calling for interviews. You’ve turned a sold-out Vegas show into a goddamn tabloid circus!”
He turned to me. “And you. Miss… whatever. I’m Mitch. Manager. If you two had just relaxed and let us handle it, we could’ve profited. Exclusive photos, interviews, reality spin-off maybe. But no. You had to go full drunk Vegas.”
I blinked. “Profited?”
Cal stepped between us. “It was a mistake. We’re nothing. It is a drunken mistake on my part "
His phone started ringing. Family probably. He groaned, silenced it.
Kei took it gently. “I’ll talk to her. Buy you time.”
Sydney lifted her head from Cal’s chest. “Why don't they have an annulment as soon as possible. That’s the only way.”
The PR woman, blonde, clipboard, shook her head. “Too scandalous. Instant headlines: ‘Embers Singer Dumps Wife After One Night.’ We’ll look unstable. Fans will turn.”
Mitch nodded. “She’s right. Hold off. Two weeks. Lay low. No interviews. No statements except the one we release. Let the heat die. Then annul quietly. Clean.”
Cal stared at him. “Two weeks?”
“Two weeks,” the woman confirmed. “We’ll say it was a whirlwind romance, you’re taking time to adjust, private bliss bullshit. Buy breathing room.”
I shook my head. “I can’t. I have to go home. My brother...”
Zariah stepped forward. “I’m going with her.”
Holland caught her arm. “Z. Can we talk? Alone? Please.”
She looked at me, eyes pleading. “Had…”
I swallowed. “It’s okay. Go talk. I’ll be fine.”
She hesitated. Hugged me hard. “Text me the second you’re home. Promise.”
“Promise.”
They stepped into the hallway. Door closed.
The room felt smaller.
Mitch turned to me. “Car’s waiting downstairs. Back exit. Security will get you through the paps. Keep your head down. No comments.”
I nodded numbly.
