It’s 7 a.m. in LA. Too early to call, but I have to know.
I pace while it rings.
“Rebecca,” I greet when she answers.
She laughs warily, her words laced with a Texan twang. “Well, hell. Brandon Ward. Thought you’d joined a monastery. What’s the occasion?”
“Sorry to call you so early.”
“Must be important.”
“It is. I know it’s been years, but…I need to ask about the meeting you had for Nova—Natalie—the day she died. The one Jack Willoughby attended on her behalf.”
“Meeting?” Her tone shifts. “What meeting?”
Nova’s laughter echoes around me as I frown. “There was a PR meeting.”
“No. But hold on…” I hear the clack of a keyboard as she murmurs, “I’m double-checking…Nope. Nothing.”
I halt in my tracks. “It was cancelled?”
“No, I’m saying there was no meeting at all, Brandon. It was never even on the books.”
“Are you absolutely certain? Because Jack said you attended the meeting.”
“Yeah, Jack says a lot of things. But I remember that day, clear as anything…” The humour in her voice shifts, replaced by a low note of melancholy. “It’s still fresh in my mind. Christ. Nat called me herself just a couple of days before it happened, crying after he dumped her.”
My breath catches. “Hewhat?”
“Jack left her. I thought you knew?”
“No. I didn’t.”
“Shit.” There’s a pause, the line crackling faintly. Then Rebecca starts talking. “Where do I begin? Poor girl. She wasn’t in the best headspace, though none of us realised how serious it had become. No one likes falling off the charts. It can really shake an artist’s confidence. Anyway, we’d been exploring some new creative directions, a rebrand of sorts—this was weeks prior, and to be honest, it was difficult to get through to Natalie. I was mostly speaking to Jack.”
“Sounds familiar.” I can’t keep the venom out of my voice.
“Yeah. When I did finally speak to her—when she called me up in tears—she raised the idea of stepping away from the spotlight for a while. I’m not sure if that ever reached you.”
I grip the phone tighter, my pulse drumming in my ears.Stepping away.I can almost see her trying to change course, to choose a healthier life after years of pushing herself past breaking point. And Jack…I can only imagine what he thought of that.
“So, he left her,” I say flatly. The words taste sour. It’s not surprising, merely sickening to have it confirmed.
“Yeah, well, you know Jack—he always knew which way the spotlight was swinging. And Nat’s songs were slipping off the charts. Reckon he damn near lost his mind when she wanted to quit. You heard about the photo, right?”
“What photo?”
“It was on Pandora’s socials—her and Jack, all cosy. You remember her, the TikTok girl we signed? He was out in LA that day, shooting behind-the-scenes content for her new single.” She snorts. “It was more like partying, and not exactly discreet. That’s why Nat was so upset when she called me. She saw photos of them kissing.”
The world unbalances around me as I try to comprehend it all. Jack broke Natalie’s heart when she was at her most vulnerable and immediately latched onto the next rising star.
Meanwhile, miles away, Natalie sat locked in a hotel room, her heart breaking as she watched him through a phone screen. Nausea lurches through me to imagine the pain she must have felt.
Why didn’t she call me?
I would have dropped everything.
Rebecca says, “It damn near killed her to see it—oh. Shit. Sorry, bad choice of words.”
