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Adding fuel to the fire, Kaan's record label announced their decision to sever ties with the troubled artist. Their statement read, "We have reluctantly reached the difficult conclusion that continuing to represent Kaan is no longer viable. While we remain fans of his music, we believe it is in the best interest of all parties to part ways."
With the chaotic events of last night, the studio finally found the ideal excuse to terminate Kaan's contract. The fallout from these revelations reverberates throughout the industry, leaving fans and critics alike pondering the future of his career.
To finish off this mountain of backpedalling and finger pointing, girlfriend and social media queen, Meg Martin, released this statement: I was present at the altercation last night, and want to make it unequivocally clear that Kaan did not assault Blair Roberts. The incident, which unfolded unexpectedly, was a result of a misunderstanding and an unfortunate escalation of emotions.
Kaan deeply regrets the confrontation and wishes to extend his sincere apologies to Blair Roberts for any distress caused. He also extends his apologies to the photographer who was injured in the incident. Kaan values the importance of respecting fellow professionals in the industry and firmly believes in the power of collaboration and positivity.”
Stay tuned because I’m guessing there’s a lot more to come out of this.
I’m Pippa Ellis, and this is Fame and No-sense.
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The elevator dings, signalling my arrival at the conference room on the sixth floor. With a forced smile plastered on my face, I step out and find myself thrust into the midst of yet another raging argument.
Same scene. Same characters.
This has to bedéjà vu.
Brynn is uncharacteristically standing by window, her gaze fixed on the rain-soaked street outside, ignoring the argument behind her. She appears more focused and professional than usual, dressed in a sleek black pant suit and killer stilettos. A flicker of frustration crosses her face as she nods at me, silently acknowledging my presence.
On the other side of the room, Kaan paces back and forth, his brows furrowed and his eyes brimming with anger. I watch as his fingers tug at his unruly curls in frustration. It’s another one of his tells. Across from him stands Ada Korkmaz, still impeccably put together and still yelling at him in Turkish.
I take a moment to soak in the magnificence of the man for a moment, but only for a moment because Ada turns her steel gaze on me. “Are you habitually late to everything?”
Kaan is seething. “Shut up, Ada.”
“Please take a seat, Meg, so we can get started.” Brynn swiftly steps in, breaking the tension and redirecting the focus of the meeting. “First, things first. For the record, Brazen no longer represents Blair Roberts.”
“I should bloody well hope not!” Ada sneers at Brynn before indicating me as I slide into the seat opposite her. “And this little trollop?”
Kaan’s frustration reaches its peak and he slams his fist down on the conference room table. He and Ada revert to rapid Turkish again before Ada abruptly stands up, straightens her jacket, and walks over to the still opened elevator.
“Ada is running late for a meeting.” Kaan’s gaze follows his mother’s departure before shifting back to Brynn. “Now can you tell me what the fuck we do now?”
“Where do we even start?” Brynn presses her finger and thumb to the bridge of her nose, pinching it tightly. She is steaming and uncharacteristically lets it show. “You royally screwed the pooch last night, Kaan.”
“It was a set up by Blair.”
“Sure, but you’ve been in the business long enough to know better. You lost control. You attacked a photographer, and it was all caught on camera.”
“I’d had a few drinks.”
Her eyes narrow as she puts her hands on the conference table. “Your drinking is becoming a problem.”
Kaan glares at Brynn before turning to me. “You’ve been busy getting into Brynn’s ear, Nutmeg.”
“I don’t need to point out the glaringly obvious.”
“Bullshit. You think I have a problem.”
“You do have a problem!”
“Right now, the only problem I have here is you!”
“Fuck you!”
He snorts derisively, “Sure thing, babe.”
