Page 6 of Dissonance

“I wasn’t hiding anything,” he says through gritted teeth, locking the tablet and shoving it back toward me. “I heard something behind me, turned around, then called my mom. I swear, Thea. That was it.”

“I know,” I repeat, softer this time.

“They made me look like I’m—” He exhales hard, unable to meet my eyes. “I’m not like that.”

“Tyler, look at me.”

His head snaps up at the use of his real name, something raw flashing across his face before he schools it, eyes meeting mine.

“I know you’re not.”

Zane shifts beside him, unimpressed. “This is getting blown way out of proportion, Cuz. There’s no such thing as bad press. It keeps you relevant. People love a bad boy.”

My grip tightens on the tablet.

“I just want it to stop,” Tyler whispers, barely audible. “I just want to make music.”

“And you will,” I say, ignoring the scoff from his cousin. “But first, you stay low. No appearances, no after-parties, no friends posting on your behalf.” My gaze slides pointedly to Zane. “I control the narrative until this blows over, okay?”

“You can’t just lock him in his house,” Zane fires back, finally tucking away his phone. “That’s not how this works.”

“This,” I say evenly, turning toward him fully, “isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation. Last week, it was photos of him arguing outside a studio and headlines about ‘volatile behavior.’” I lift a hand before Tyler can defend himself. “You didn’t do anything wrong then either.”

He nods, throat working as he swallows.

“But it keeps happening. Different scenarios, same result. I put out one fire, and another’s sparking before the smoke’s even cleared.”

“So what?” Zane mutters. “He’s just not supposed to exist?”

“If you want him to have a career in five years, then yes,” I reply coolly. “Because right now, his label’s nervous and his sponsors are asking questions. They don’t like these headlines linked to their names and they won’t stick around much longer if this continues.”

Silence drops like a heavyweight around us, and Tyler stares at the floor.

Sighing, I take a moment, then try to break through his spiral. “I can’t keep chasing stories. I need to change them.”

That has him looking up. “How?”

“Alignment. Not damage control, exactly, but something that shifts how people see you entirely.” I let the pause do the work. “Reign Cooper.”

His eyes widen, not star-struck but wary. “You’re serious.”

“I don’t float ideas I can’t execute,” I say. “One single. One collaboration. Controlled studio time, structured rollout, press that focuses on the music, not the noise.”

His cousin laughs under his breath, the sound mean and condescending. “As if someone like that’s gonna risk his image on—”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” I cut in, tone calm and final. “This isn’t a negotiation. It’s a courtesy.”

“No, no, I love it.” Tyler’s on his feet in an instant, palms raised. “If you can make it happen, I’m in.”

The grin that breaks through is unfiltered and disarmingly young. Strip away the eyeliner and the headlines, and this is the version of Tyler I’m fighting for.

“I’ll do whatever you need. I’ll stay at home, I’ll stay quiet, I’ll disappear if that’s what it takes,” he rushes to assure me. “I’ve got stuff written down already; lyrics, melodies. I can send him ideas, I can—”

“One step at a time,” I say, squeezing his shoulder. “You go home. You stay quiet. You don’t give anyone a single thing to twist.”

He nods rapidly. “Yeah, okay.”

Zane stands with a lazy stretch, like this whole conversation bored him. “Just don’t come crying to me when this goes to shit and Reign says no.”