Page 61 of My Rockstar Ex's Broken Vows

He’s right, of course. I hate that he’s right, but I hate the thought of blowing the session even more. Finally, I sigh, leaning back against the wall. "Fine. Push it to after the call tomorrow."

Luke nods, already pulling out his phone to text the studio manager. "Good call."

"Yeah, well," I mutter, already walking toward the exit. "Let’s hope it’s not my last good one."

The cold hits me as soon as I step outside, cutting through my jacket like a slap. I dig my hands into my pockets, pulling out my phone as I walk down the block. I haven’t heard from Sienna since last night, and every time I’ve tried calling today, it’s gone straight to voicemail.

I unlock my phone, scrolling to her name. My thumb hovers over the call button before I hit it, bringing the phone to my ear.

One ring. Two. And then straight to voicemail. Again.

"Hey," I say, trying to keep my voice light even though my stomach’s twisting. "It’s me. Just checking in. Haven’t heard from you in a bit. Call me back when you can."

I hang up, my thumb tapping against the screen as I stare at her name. She’s probably just busy. Or tired. Or dealing with Ollie. But something about the silence is eating at me, and I can’t shake it.

Finally, I send a text.

You okay? I’ve tried reaching you a few times. Just let me know.

I shove the phone back in my pocket, trying to shake the knot in my chest. She’ll get back to me. We both agreed to follow up due to what happened before.

The notification comes five minutes later, just as I’m about to hit the corner. I pull out my phone, relief flooding me for a second—until I read her message.

Hey. I’ve got a lot going on right now. Won’t be reachable for a few days. I’ll get in touch soon.

A few days? My brow furrows as I reread the message. What’s going on? Immediately, irritation and worry flow through me.

I start typing a response, but nothing feels right. After a few seconds, I shove the phone back into my pocket. If she says she’ll get in touch, I’ll have to trust her. For now.

I’ve got my own mess to deal with. Luke’s always telling me to chill before I blow up at the band. That advice applies here, too—I can’t let my frustrations and insecurities spill over onto her. If we both get through our stuff, maybe we can leave all this behind us.

The knot in my chest only tightens as I walk on. The city lights blur in the corners of my vision.

Between Morrison and Sienna, it feels like everything I’m holding onto is slipping through my fingers.

Thursday,March 20

Pinnacle Records Headquarters

9:09 AM

The conference roomat Pinnacle’s offices feels sterile. It's all glass walls and sleek furniture that screams money.

I’m sitting at the head of the table, Luke on one side and Victor on the other. A massive speakerphone sits in the center, the red light blinking as the lawyers on the other end shuffle papers.

"Mr. Reid," one of the voices finally says, smooth and rehearsed, like they’re delivering bad news to someone for the hundredth time this week. "We’ve reviewed the demands submitted by Mr. Morrison’s legal team, as well as the terms of your original agreement with him."

I lean forward, gripping the edge of the table. "And?"

There’s a pause, the kind that tells me I’m not going to like what’s coming. "Legally speaking, Mr. Morrison’s claims hold merit. The contract you signed grants him a fifty percent share of your recording-related earnings from any deal you secure during the active term of the agreement."

"Recording-related," I echo, my voice flat. "So half of my advance from Pinnacle."

"That’s correct," the lawyer says. "The $400,000 he’s demanding aligns with the terms of the contract."

Luke curses under his breath, and Victor crosses his arms, his jaw tightening. My grip on the table edge tightens, my knuckles whitening as I try to keep my temper in check.

"You’re telling me he gets to walk away with half of everything I’ve worked for? After six years of bullshit gigs and clawing my way out from under him, he still wins?" I snap, my voice rising.

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