Page 200 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

I consider lying.

Instead I exhale. “Depends how you define bad.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“The label visibility has increased by almost four hundred percent.”

Her eyebrows lift. “That much?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s… good?”

“In theory.”

“But?”

I lean forward, resting my forearms against the desk. “But attention is unpredictable. Once people decide they own a story, it becomes difficult to redirect them.”

“Redirect,” she repeats.

I glance at her. “What?”

“What if that’s exactly what you do?”

I study her. “Explain.”

She moves closer now, thoughtful in a way I’ve started recognizing. Willow thinks physically, pacing when ideas begin forming. “The problem is everyone’s focusing on us,” she says. “On the scandal. The relationships. The gossip.”

“Yes.”

“But what if you gave them something bigger to focus on?”

I don’t answer immediately. I can already see where her brain is heading.

“The attention’s already here, Gabe. You can’t stop it now.”

“I’m aware.”

“So, use it.”

I lean back, my brain beginning to restructure the situation from a different angle.

Public scandal and curiosity are attention. Attention is traffic.

And traffic can be redirected.

“If we controlled the narrative ourselves…” I murmur.

“Exactly.”

I’m already moving before the thought fully finishes forming, grabbing a notebook and flipping it open.

Podcast appearances. Controlled interviews. Behind-the-scenes footage. Artist spotlights tied directly into the scandal cycle. People come for the gossip. Stay for the music.

I look up at her. “That could actually work.”

She grins, pleased with herself. “I know.”