Page 36 of My Rockstar Ex's Broken Vows

At the mention of Morrison, Luke’s jaw tightens. "Speaking of that... I heard back from the attorneys. I told you I wanted to tell you. But you haven't even seemed interested to know where things stand."

Fuck. He's on my ass harder than my old man in high school.

"And?"

"And it’s not good." He rubs a hand over his face, the tension in his shoulders even more pronounced now. "The precedent they found? It’s not in our favor. That contract you signed—it’s airtight. Morrison’s got us by the balls."

I feel my stomach drop, the weight of his words settling over me like a boulder. "You’re kidding."

"I wish I was," he says grimly. "The problem is, Morrison can argue he provided value. Gigs, venues, exposure—all of that counts, even if he was screwing you over in the long run. Unless we can prove fraud or coercion, the contract stands. And the fifty percent he’s asking for? He’s got a legal right to it."

"Fifty fucking percent?" I say, my voice rising. A couple of people glance over from nearby tables, but I don’t care. "That’s half of everything. What's even the fucking point of working, then. God damn it!"

Luke holds up a hand. "I know. Believe me, I know. The lawyers are looking into other options, but... it’s not looking good, bro."

I rake a hand through my hair, frustration bubbling up inside me. "So, what the hell do we do?"

"We negotiate," he says, his tone calm but firm. "Offer him a buyout. A lump sum to terminate the contract."

"With what money?" I snap. "I don’t even have the Pinnacle advance yet, and you think I can just write him a check?"

"It’s not ideal," Luke admits. "But it’s better than letting him bleed you dry for the rest of your career. And if we can’t buy him out, maybe we use PR. Morrison’s reputation isn’t exactly squeaky clean. If we make enough noise, he might back off."

I shake my head, leaning forward and pressing my hands to my temples. "This is a fucking nightmare."

"It’s not the end of the world," Luke says, his voice softer now. "We’re going to keep working to try to figure something out. But you’ve gotta stay focused. This deal with Pinnacle? It’s your shot. Don’t let Morrison—or anyone else—derail it."

I nod slowly, the tension in my chest easing just a fraction. "Yeah. Okay."

THIRTEEN

Sienna

The truth unveiled, the light breaks in

Boucherie West Village

99 7th Avenue S

Tuesday, March 11

1:53 PM

The teapotbetween us whistles softly, the steam curling upward like a lazy dancer. I reach for the handle, pouring into the delicate porcelain cups Brooke insisted on ordering.

The vibe at Boucherie is classic and cozy—French bistro meets old New York—with soft jazz playing in the background and the faint hum of conversation filling the air.

Brooke sits across from me with her tweed blazer thrown over the back of her chair like a royal equestrian. Her long, thick hairis swept into a sleek ponytail and she every bit fits the part of a blue-blood aristocrat. Meanwhile, I’m in jeans and a sweater, feeling distinctly Brooklyn.

"So," Brooke says, leaning forward and resting her chin on her hand. "Tell me about the meeting. I'm so excited for you! This is really happening."

I grin despite myself, grateful for the change of subject. "It went great. Golden Dragon referred me to a boutique that imports specialty teas and herbs. They loved the mock-ups I did for their signage, and they want to move forward. It’s a big job, Brooke—like,big."

Her smile spreads wide, genuine pride lighting up her face. "Look at you, boss lady. You’re building an empire one sign at a time. And you didn't have to take a dime from your ex. You're such a badass."

"Hardly an empire," I say, taking a sip of tea. "And definitely not a badass. But it feels good. Like maybe I really can do this again."

Brooke narrows her eyes at me, playful but serious. "Maybe? Babe, youaredoing it. Don’t sell yourself short."

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