Cam
I’m not losing her. Not like this. Not quietly. Not after she stood there and told the truth while I hid behind silence and good intentions.
They weren’t protection.
They were fear.
I dial Manny first because Manny answers. Always. Second ring.
“Cam,” he says, low and suspicious. He’s heard the breakup version. He’s probably rehearsed the speech where he tells me to stay away from her.
“I’m done hiding,” I say. My voice surprises even me. Steady. Clear. No cracks. “I’m coming tonight. To the concert.”
There’s a pause. A long one. I can picture him already—arms crossed, jaw set, weighing whether I’m a threat or just another man who doesn’t know when to stop.
“You can’t just show up,” he says. “It starts in less than an hour.”
“I know,” I say. “That’s why I’m calling.”
Another beat. Then a breath. Heavy. Protective. Reluctant.
“I’ll call you back,” he says, and hangs up.
It'll do.
Noah next. ERS lawyer. The man who lives in gray areas and fine print. He answers on the first ring, like he’s been waiting.
“If this is about the NDA—” he starts.
“It’s about the truth,” I say. “I’m not hiding anymore. Cameras, contracts, fallout. I’ll take it.”
Silence. Then a quiet, thoughtful hum.
“You realize this will detonate,” he says.
“I know,” I say. “That's the point.”
A short laugh. Respect, maybe.
“I’ll clear what I can,” he says. “Don’t make me regret this.”
“I won’t,” I say.
Evelyn is last.
She picks up like she always does—calm, composed, terrifyingly perceptive.
“You’re done running,” she says by way of greeting.
“I am,” I say. “She told the truth. Now it’s my turn.”
I expect strategy. Terms. A warning.
Instead, she smiles. I can hear it through the phone.
“Good,” she says. “Go get her.”
The call ends. The city blurs past, lights streaking.
