Chapter 25
I’m sitting in a bathroom stall having the kind of breakdown that should come with its own documentary crew when I hear the door open.
Heels clicking against marble with the kind of deliberate confidence that makes my skin crawl.
Of fucking course someone’s coming in here. Because apparently rock bottom has a basement, and I’m about to discover it.
I try to muffle my sobs, pressing my hands against my mouth like that’ll somehow contain the complete implosion of my existence. Maybe if I stay quiet enough, whoever it is will just piss and leave without noticing the human disaster in stall three.
No such luck.
The footsteps stop and I can feel someone waiting, like a predator that’s caught the scent of wounded prey.
I have to get out of here. Face whatever’s left of my life instead of hiding like a coward.
I unlock the stall door with shaking hands and step out, expecting to see some random coworker who’ll pretend they didn’t witness my meltdown.
Instead, I find Adelyn leaning against the marble sink like she owns the place, fixing her hair in the mirror with the kind of casual precision that suggests she’s got all the time in the world.
She looks perfect. Not a hair out of place, makeup flawless, that predatory smile spread across her face like she’s just won the fucking lottery.
Which, I guess, she has.
“Rough afternoon?” she asks softly, her tone pitched to sound almost kind.
The false sympathy in her voice makes me want to vomit. I catch sight of myself in the mirror—face blotchy and swollen from crying, eyes red-rimmed and hollow.
The deep red dress that made me feel powerful on stage now looks like a cruel joke, a costume from a play where I forgot I was just an extra.
“Don’t wanna talk about it,” I whisper, because forming full sentences feels like advanced calculus right now.
She turns to face me fully, and her smile widens. “Oh, but I do.”
Something cold slides down my spine. The way she’s looking at me—not with pity or awkwardness, but with satisfaction. Like she’s savoring this moment.
She starts moving toward me slowly, deliberately, studying me like I’m a bug she’s considering whether to squash.
“You know, Jasmine, I have to give you credit,” she says, circling closer. “For a while there, you almost had everyone fooled. The humble little assistant, working so hard, so dedicated to her craft. But we both know the truth now, don’t we?”
My brain is still trying to process the nuclear fallout from the press conference, but something in her tone makes alarms start blaring. “What… truth?”
Her smile turns predatory at that fucking moment.
“That your entire climb up the ladder has been nothing but a sham. That press conference just exposed you for exactly what you are—an attention-seeking whore who thought sleeping with your bosses would make you matter.”
The words hit like physical blows. I actually flinch, stepping backward until my shoulders hit the tiled wall.
“You weren’t as careful as you thought,” she continues, clearly enjoying my growing horror. “All those stolen glances you thought were subtle. The mystery gifts that appeared on your desk. The special treatment, the private meetings, the way they looked at you like you were something precious instead of just another employee.”
My mouth goes dry. She’s been watching. All this time, she’s been fucking watching.
“How did you—”
“One phone call,” she says simply, cutting me off. “One phone call to a photographer who’s been looking for exactly the kind of story you three have been handing him on a silver platter. He was more than eager to help document your little love affair.”
The realization hits me like a freight train made of pure, concentrated horror. “You did this.”
“Of course I did.” The satisfaction in her voice is so pure it’s almost artistic. “Did you really think you could flaunt your arrangement right under everyone’s noses and no one would notice? Did you think you were special enough to get away with it?”
She moves closer, and I retreat further until there’s nowhere left to go.
“Here’s what you never understood, Jasmine. Girls like you—girls who think they can use their bodies to skip the line and grab what they haven’t earned—you don’t get to stay invisible forever. Eventually, someone notices. Eventually, someone calls you out.”
My eyes fill with fresh tears, but I can’t speak. Can’t move. Can’t do anything but stand there and take it while she destroys whatever’s left of me.
“The best part?” she continues, savoring every word like fine wine. “You did all the work for me. Prancing around in expensive dresses they bought you, wearing jewelry they gifted you, standing on that stage like you actually belonged there. You made it so easy to document your little arrangement.”
I want to argue. Want to scream that it wasn’t like that, that what we had was real, that I earned my position through talent and hard work.
But the words won’t come. Because deep down, a voice that sounds suspiciously like every insecurity I’ve ever had is whispering that maybe she’s right.
Maybe I am just the girl who fucked her way to the top.
“You want to know what’s really tragic?” she asks, preparing for what I can tell is the killing blow. “For a hot minute there, you actually had people believing you were talented. That you’d earned your position through merit instead of spreading your legs for the right men.”
The words shatter something inside me that I didn’t even know was still intact.
She turns away, heels clicking confidently against the marble as she heads for the door. Just before exiting, she glances back over her shoulder for one final twist of the knife.
“Don’t worry, honey,” she says with a cruel smile. “No one will care about your music now. But they’ll definitely remember your name—just not for the reasons you wanted.”
The door closes behind her with a soft click, leaving me alone with the wreckage of my life.
I slide down the wall until I’m sitting on the cold bathroom floor. The tears come harder now, full-body sobs that echo off the marble walls.
She’s right. About all of it.
Every achievement, every moment of professional pride, every time I felt like I belonged—it’s all tainted now. Forever marked with the scarlet letter of a woman who slept her way to success.
The Blackwood’s silence on that stage suddenly makes perfect sense. They were protecting themselves, distancing themselves from the scandal I’d become.
Smart move, really.
Why go down with a sinking ship when you can just cut the anchor loose?
My phone buzzes against the floor where I dropped it. Probably more messages from reporters, more people wanting to dissect my humiliation for public consumption.
I don’t pick it up.
Instead, I just sit there in a bathroom, wearing a dress chosen by a men who’s probably already planning how to minimize the damage I’ve caused to their reputation, and finally understand the truth Adelyn was so eager to share.
I never stood a chance.
