“This wasn’t how you wanted things to go,” he adds.
“No,” I say softly. “This was not on my vision board.”
That earns me the smallest huff of a laugh from him.
Then his face settles again, serious but gentle.
“Lila,” he says, lowering his voice, “You can’t keep pretending this is normal.”
“I am fine,” I protest automatically.
Manny turns to look at me fully now. His gaze is steady, kind, and completely unimpressed by my argument.
“You’re surviving,” he corrects. “There’s a difference.”
I press my lips together. The fountain keeps murmuring like it’s on his side.
He doesn’t push closer, but his presence feels heavier now. More intentional.
“You can’t outrun this by saying no,” he adds. “And I won’t pretend that what ERS suggested wasn’t extreme. It was.”
I glance up, surprised by that admission.
“But the risks you are facing aren't imaginary,” he says.
I shake my head, frustrated tears prickling behind my eyes. “I just want to feel safe again,” I say quietly. “And I don’t want to pretend this is some fairytale solution when it feels like a trap.”
Manny’s expression softens.
“I know,” he says. “And I wouldn’t ask you to agree to something that might break you.”
Then he adds, gently but firmly, “But I will ask you to think about what will keep you alive long enough to heal from your past.”
Manny takes a slow breath, like he’s bracing himself for my reaction.
“This isn’t about liking the guy,” he says carefully.
I don’t answer. I just fold my arms tighter, because I feel exposed again.
“You need someone who can move with you,” he continues. “Someone who doesn’t need clearance every time you change floors or decide to leave a venue early. Someone who can step between you and a crowd before it becomes a headline.”
I stare at the stone beneath my feet.
I hate how reasonable he sounds.
“You shouldn’t have to announce your movements like a military operation,” Manny adds. “You shouldn’t have to ask permission to feel normal.”
Normal feels like a myth at this point, but I don’t say that.
“And public perception matters,” he says, almost apologetic. “I wish it didn’t. But it does.”
I close my eyes briefly, then open them again.
“Being seen with someone steady,” Manny continues. “Calm. Grounded. It shifts the energy around you. Fans take cues from what they see. If you look protected, they back off.”
I swallow.
My mind flashes to the contract Evelyn slid across the table earlier. Thick paper. Clean font. My name printed neatly at the top.
