“I’ll talk to him,” I promised.
Nova bounced off the bed. “Perfect! I’m thinking we’ll start around seven. That gives me time to prepare, and it’s prime viewing hours.” She paused at the door. “Oh, and tell Ethan’s team to stay out of the sitting room after three. I need to set up.”
And she was gone, a whirlwind of energy and plans, leaving me alone with my exhaustion and growing list of concerns.
By early evening, the house had settled into an uneasy calm. The crime scene investigators had finally cleared out, taking their evidence markers and cameras with them. I found myself in the kitchen, brewing a pot of strong coffee to combat my fatigue, when Ethan walked in.
“Need one of these?” I offered, holding up a mug.
He looked as tired as I felt, though he wore it differently—a slight tightness around his eyes, shoulders held with rigid control.
“Thanks.” He accepted the coffee, our fingers brushing in the exchange. The brief contact sent a jolt through me that had nothing to do with caffeine. “Did you get any sleep?”
“Three hours, maybe. You?”
“About the same.” He took a sip, watching me over the rim of his mug. “Nova seems surprisingly unfazed.”
I leaned against the counter, cradling my own coffee. “That’sNova. Complete disaster over minor inconveniences, rock solid during actual crises.”
His jaw tensed. “She still planning to do the live stream?”
“Yep. She’s determined. At this point, it’s less effort to clean up any fallout than to try to talk her out of it.”
He didn’t like it but didn’t make further arguments. We sipped our coffee.
“You doing okay?” Ethan asked softly, breaking into my thoughts. “Really?”
The unexpected gentleness in his voice caught me off guard. I wasn’t used to being asked that question—I was always the one doing the asking, making sure Nova was okay, the tour was okay, everyone else was okay.
“I’m fine,” I answered automatically, then caught myself. “Actually, that’s not true. I’m exhausted and worried. Nova’s convinced it’s all over.”
“It’s not.”
“I know.” I met his gaze. “That’s what worries me.”
When we entered the sitting room twenty minutes later, it had been transformed into a makeshift studio. Nova had positioned herself on the cream-colored sofa, with strategic lighting that cast her in a warm glow. Dexter hovered nearby, making last-minute adjustments to her hair, while two assistants set up the phone on a professional-grade tripod.
Ethan and I watched from the far side of the room, just out of camera range. I had pulled up the live stream on my own phone, curious to see what Nova’s followers would see.
“This is not ideal,” Ethan muttered beside me.
“Welcome to life with Nova,” I whispered back. “At least we’re here to monitor. You can always do a flying tackle if she starts to reveal security secrets.”
A small smile tilted his lips at that, although I wasn’t sure if it was from my statement or the thought of tackling Nova.
The assistants gave a thumbs-up, and Nova straightened,arranging her features into her trademark radiant smile. Dexter slipped behind the camera, ready to play interviewer.
“We’re live in three…two…one…”
Nova’s face lit up with practiced perfection. “Hey, everyone! Nova here, coming to you live from my home with a little update after last night’s drama since everyone already has heard about it.”
Comments immediately began flooding in, hearts and shocked emojis filling the screen. The viewer count ticked upward at an alarming rate.
Dexter moved into frame, settling beside Nova. “So, doll, everyone’s dying to know—how are you feeling after such a terrifying ordeal?”
Nova pressed a hand to her chest, her expression shifting to one of serene bravery. “You know, I’m just so grateful for my amazing security team. They handled everything with such professionalism.” She gestured vaguely in our direction, though careful not to draw the camera’s attention to where Ethan and I stood.
Ethan tensed beside me. I’d been joking about the tackling, but if Nova started talking about specific security protocols, I had no doubt Ethan would find a way to stop this live stream.