Chapter 140

• The next morning, I didn’t wake up with a plan. I woke up with a heaviness that wasn’t sharp enough to call pain, but deep enough that it felt like it was sitting in my chest. Julian had already left for the boutique, and the apartment was silent except for the faint hum of the fridge. I made coffee and sat at the kitchen table, not rushing to get dressed.
• The conversation from the night before kept turning over in my mind. The investor, the labels, the shadows they kept alive — it was the kind of problem that would eat up weeks if I let it. And for what? To stand in front of the press again, swearing that I was telling the truth? To start another cycle where the defense becomes its own performance? I had done that before, and the truth had always ended up buried under the noise.
• By the time I finished my coffee, I knew I wasn’t going to fight them in their way. If someone was determined to keep their hands busy pulling at my edges, then I would make sure my hands were busy with something else entirely.