hapter 24
The press conference opened with the sharp click of heels against polished marble and that electric hum of anticipation that comes when money and media collide. Cameras positioned like snipers, lenses hungry for the next big story.
I stood behind the three brothers at the stage edge, watching them command the room like they were born for it. Which, let’s be honest, they basically were.
Liam’s voice carried that natural authority that made investors cream themselves. “Our Q3 growth exceeded projections by thirty-two percent, with international streaming revenues alone—”
“Liam, can you speak to the rumors about expanding into Latin American markets?” some reporter interrupted.
“Absolutely. We’re in advanced negotiations with three major distributors…”
Asher fielded technical questions with surgical precision, breaking down complex industry data into soundbites that made even the most jaded reporters nod along like bobbleheads.
And Finn? Christ, Finn was working the crowd like a fucking magician.
“Look, I could give you all the boring statistics,” he said with that trademark grin, “but let’s be real—good music finds its audience. We just make sure it doesn’t get lost along the way.”
Laughter rippled through the room. These people were eating out of his hand.
The deep red dress Liam had chosen hugged my curves perfectly, making me feel powerful instead of hidden. Finn’s delicate gold earrings caught camera flashes, sending tiny sparks dancing across the walls like fairy lights.
“And now,” Liam’s voice drew my attention back, “I’d like to introduce our Manager of Artist Relations, Jasmine Harlow, who has some exciting news about our latest partnership.”
Showtime.
I stepped forward, accepting the microphone with steady hands, feeling dozens of cameras focus on me like spotlights.
For a moment, I was exactly where I’d dreamed of being—center stage, representing work I believed in, surrounded by people who respected what I’d built.
“Thank you, Liam,” I began, voice carrying clearly across the room. “Good afternoon, everyone. Thanks for being here today, and thanks to our incredible team who made this possible.”
I launched into the Meridian Distribution announcement, a deal I’d helped negotiate that would expand our international reach significantly. The room stayed attentive, engaged.
“So now our artists’ music will finally reach places where they probably can’t pronounce our label name correctly,” I added, getting the warm chuckle I’d been hoping for.
For one perfect, shining moment, everything felt aligned. Career soaring beyond my wildest expectations. Confidence blooming under the bright lights. My complicated but real love life simmering beneath the surface like a beautiful secret.
Then a single question detonated everything.
“Ms. Harlow.” Male voice from somewhere in the crowd, cutting through the comfortable atmosphere like a fucking machete. “Is it true that all three Blackwood men have been seduced by you?”
The room went dead. Air itself seemed to freeze, every breath held, every camera suddenly laser-focused.
My blood turned to ice water. “I’m sorry, what?”
But before I could even process the question fully, the large screen behind us flickered to life without warning.
Photos. Intimate, private, devastating photos that made my stomach drop straight through the stage floor. There I was with Liam in the parking garage, his hand on my face as he looked at me with obvious tenderness.
“No, no, no…” I whispered, forgetting the microphone was still live.
Another photo showed Asher’s hand on my lower back, guiding me through a doorway with protective possession.
A third captured the exact moment Finn had given me the earrings, my lips pressed to his cheek while his eyes closed in obvious pleasure.
Each image is perfectly framed, perfectly timed to show undeniable intimacy. Separately, they might’ve been explained away. Together, they formed a damning mosaic that no amount of professional spin could counter.
The room erupted like a fucking volcano.
“Ms. Harlow, how long have you been involved with your employers?”
“Is this why you received your recent promotion?”
“Are all three relationships concurrent or sequential?”
“Gentlemen, can you comment on—”
My body betrayed me completely. Papers slipped from my hands, scattering across the stage like my dignity. Heat flooded my face, turning my cheeks nuclear under the relentless camera flashes.
I opened my mouth but no words came out, just the sound of my own ragged breathing amplified by the microphone I still clutched like a lifeline.
The brothers stood frozen behind me. Liam’s face had gone completely blank. Asher’s jaw was tight enough to crack teeth. Finn looked like someone had just punched him in the gut.
Their silence was somehow more damning than any words could’ve been.
“I—” I started, then stopped.
What the fuck was I supposed to say? Deny the obvious? Explain away photos that spoke louder than words?
I ran. Bolted from that stage like my ass was on fire, ignoring the explosion of voices behind me.
“Ms. Harlow, wait!”
“Jasmine, can you comment—”
“Is it true that—”
I pushed past backstage curtains and into the maze of hallways beyond, heels clicking frantically against polished floors as I searched desperately for somewhere to hide from the nuclear fallout.
Found refuge in a bathroom at the corridor’s end, shoving through the door and diving into the furthest stall. My hands shook as I locked it behind me, that small click somehow final and devastating.
Then the tears came.
Started quiet—just a few drops I tried to wipe away with trembling fingers. But quickly became full-body sobs that shook me like an earthquake.
Those photos were burned into my retinas. Every intimate moment we’d shared, every stolen glance and careful touch, reduced to evidence in some twisted prosecution.
I’d been so fucking naive. Thinking I could climb the ranks while keeping secrets in an industry built on exposure and scandal. The careful balance I’d tried to maintain had shattered in seconds, leaving me with nothing but wreckage.
I wasn’t the assistant who’d worked her way up through merit anymore. Now I was the girl who fucked her way to the top. Every achievement, every promotion, every moment of professional pride would forever be tainted.
My phone buzzed. Text after text flooding in.
“Holy shit, are you okay?” – Nora
“Jas, where are you?” – came a text from Leo. “The internet is going fucking insane”
I turned the phone face down and pressed my face into my hands.
How do you come back from this? How does anyone come back from complete and total annihilation broadcast live to the entire industry?
The answer was simple: you don’t.
You just sit in a bathroom stall and watch your carefully constructed world fucking burn down around you, one camera flash at a time.
