Page 74 of My Rockstar Ex's Broken Vows

The memory comes rushing back: two broke college kids cashing in on a gig payment—two tickets to the South Carolina Aquarium. I’d made some joke about how it wasn’t exactly rent money, but Sienna was thrilled, like I’d scored us tickets to a world tour or something.

We’d spent hours wandering through the exhibits, but every time we passed the big tank, she’d stop and drag me into a game of "I Spy" to see who could find the most sharks. She was so into it, her face pressed close to the glass, rattling off shark counts like it was some kind of sport. I’d made fun of her for being obsessed, but I secretly loved how fascinated she was.

"Just think," she’d said, her nose almost touching the glass, "this is a peek into the same ocean we swam in yesterday. They’re out there, Callum. Swimming with us. Right next to us."

"Terrifying," I’d deadpanned. "Did you never think there were sharks out there?"

She’d laughed, but I remember the way her voice got quieter, more serious. "I mean, yes, of course, I knew there were sharks. But seeing them like this, I don't know, it somehow makes them more real."

She’d admitted right after that she might never swim at Folly Beach again, which would have wrecked what we did every Sunday during warm weather. But I also thought it was pure Sienna—this perfect mix of wonder and fear, finding beauty in things most people don't even think about.

After that trip, I bought her the bobblehead shark at some point. I think I picked it up at a gas station. I told her it was her very own pet shark.

She named him Callum, and we both had many laughs about the goofy shark that she kept displayed on our pre-war mantle in our apartment.

I set it back on the shelf, shaking my head. "You’re still as weird as ever, Sienna," I mutter, but there’s no bite in the words. Just a quiet, unexpected warmth makes me smile to myself. Even with all of the years and miles that have separated us, we still have a string and a history that connects us.

My gaze drifts to a photo on the shelf. It’s her and Ollie, smiling widely at the camera with her arm wrapped around him. He’s got her mouth, that same spark of curiosity and mischief.

In fact, he's all Sienna. I don't see a shred of stuffy Marcus Walker. Lucky for this kid, he doesn't look like his ugly bastard of a father.

My phone pings on the coffee table and pulls me out of my walk down memory lane. It's a text from Ethan.

Call me when you’re up. I heard through the grapevine you might have a way to shut Morrison down for good.

I sit up straighter. Finally, something that could be progress in a deluge of setbacks and bad news. I grab the phone and head out onto the balcony, letting the brisk morning air jolt me fully awake before dialing.

Ethan picks up on the second ring. "Morning," he says, his voice sharper than usual. "I half expected you to still be asleep. Rockstar hours. You good?"

"Depends on what you’ve got for me," I say, leaning against the railing. "What’s the deal with Morrison? I could use some good news."

"I think Paul got a break," he says. "Turns out, Morrison’s not as squeaky-clean as he likes to pretend."

"No shit," I deadpan.

"Pinnacle’s legal team dug up some shady shit on his end—a few contracts he signed with other artists that look questionable."

I raise an eyebrow. "What does that have to do with me?"

"More predatory shit, things that are more overt," Ethan says bluntly. "Worse than yours. If this goes public, it could break him. End his future in Nashville."

I let out a low whistle, my mind already spinning. "Okay, so what should I do?"

"Pinnacle’s team wants to use it as leverage to get him to back off," Ethan explains. "They’re willing to pay him something, but the number could come way down—think a fraction of what he’s asking. They’re not looking to destroy him, just... neutralize the threat. I think you should do it."

I pause, letting that sink in. "And if he doesn’t play ball?"

Ethan exhales sharply. "Then it gets messy. Morrison might decide to take one last swing on his way out—go public, stir up drama, try to paint you as the bad guy to fuck everyone if he'sgoing down. It wouldn’t kill your career, but it’d be a headache. A big one."

My grip tightens on the phone. The idea of finally being free from Morrison is so tempting I can taste it. But the thought of him dragging my name through the mud on his way down? That’s harder to swallow, especially after all the hell I've gone through to get here. "So do I call Paul, or what?"

"You have to decide if you’re okay with whatever number Pinnacle lands on," Ethan says. "And you have to be ready for blowback if Morrison doesn’t take the deal quietly. It’s a calculated risk, Callum. But it’s the best shot you’ve had at ending this."

I run a hand over my face, the cold air biting at my skin. "How long do I have to decide?"

"Not long," he replies. "Pinnacle’s legal team meets tomorrow to lay it all out. You should be there and know by then if you’ll let them run with it."

I glance at the street below, the early-morning quiet making my thoughts feel louder than usual. "I’m meeting Luke and the guys at the studio at two today. I’ll give him the go-ahead then. And I’ll be at the meeting tomorrow."

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