“If there are <b>no </b>objections, the PR Department can <b>start </b><b>drafting </b><b>the </b><b>relevant </b>statements,” Alessia said, her hands sped beneath her chin–casual, <b>yet </b>impossible to ignore.
The PR manager nodded and left. Alessia’s gaze shifted to Tristan, who looked unfazed; he’d grown used to these situations by now, and besides, he’d only gotten dragged into this mess by ident–he couldn’t be more fed up.
“Aren’t you cultivating that ‘sharp–tongued‘ personately?” Alessia asked, almost teasing.
“That makes it sound so calcting,” Tristan shot back, but there wasn’t a hint of annoyance in his tone.
“Lillian, help Tristan get set up for a livestream.”
“Now? What am I supposed to talk about?” Tristan looked genuinely surprised by the sudden directive.
“Whatever you want. Say what’s on your mind.”
“You mean just go straight for it?” A wicked glint sparked in Tristan’s eyes, one brow arched in anticipation.
“Exactly. Don’t hold back,” Alessia replied, leaving no room for doubt.
Tristan let out a low whistle and pushed back his chair. “Let’s go, my ever–dutiful agent.”
“Lillian,” Alessia called just as Lillian reached the door.
Lillian paused and turned back. “Miss Morton.” She never used Alessia’s first name during work. That clear separation of business and personal was one of the reasons Alessia valued her so much.
“This is yourst chance. I don’t need an indecisive representative.”
Lillian met Alessia’s eyes, her gaze steady and sincere. She knew she’d let Alessia down this time.
But she didn’t feel wronged; a mistake was a mistake. All she could do now was fix it–cut it off at the root and set herself back on the right path.
“Yes, Miss Morton.” Lillian’s face was set, lips pressed in determination.
Alessia seemed satisfied with her resolve. “Go on. Just make sure to keep things
<b>11:56 </b>
<b>under </b><b>control</b><b>. </b><b>As </b><b>much </b><b>as </b><b>she </b><b>wanted </b>Tristan <b>to </b><b>speak </b><b>freely </b>she didn’t w <b>to </b><b>get </b><b>carried </b><b>away </b><b>and </b><b>blurt </b><b>out something </b><b>that </b><b>would </b>get <b>them in </b><b>trouble</b>.
<b>The </b>conference room emptied by two more.
Liam and Alessia’s eyes met across the table. He tried to mask his nerves, <b>but </b><b>the </b>tension in his jaw betrayed him.
“Don’t worry. I just wanted to check in on your progress.”
“I’ve been brainstorming new song ideas with Jason. Things are going pretty <b>well</b><b>.</b><b>” </b>
“Thepany’s rules are non–negotiable, but since Fitch already leaked your existence, we might as well ride the wave.”
“What do you mean?”
“Same strategy as Fitch: post videos of yourself performing original songs on social media, then release them on the official site. The only difference–don’t show your face.”
“Alright. Original songs, right? If it’s just snippets, I can manage.”
“One song a week should be enough to build your following. Vera, work with PR to put together a detailed n, and let’s move fast while the hype’s still alive.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Vera replied promptly.
“That’s all for now. You can take a break, Liam.”
Liam hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something. “Is there something else?” Alessia asked.
He shook his head and left.
What could he say, really? ‘Don’t overwork yourself‘? ‘Take care‘? Or maybe, ‘Don’t worry, your big brother’s here for you‘? Empty words, all of them.
As the door closed behind him, Liam was overwhelmed by a familiar sense of helplessness. No matter what happened, he was always on the sidelines–never able to help, sometimes even bing a burden.
Without a second thought, he headed straight for the practice room. He needed to get stronger, fast. That was the only way he’d ever have a say in anything, the only way he could protect the people he loved.
Back in the conference room, only five remained: thewyer, Vera, Larkin, Cole, and Alessia.
11:<b>561 </b>
“Alright, let’s get down to the most important business,” Alessia said, rolling her neck with a grin so dazzling it was impossible to look away.