Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
33
NICOLE
“It isn’t just Laken’s name you’re slandering, Knox!” When my roar startles one of the production crew dismantling the set in the living room, I almost back down. I hate airing my dirty laundry for the world to see, but this time, I hang it in front of living, breathing witnesses. “You took it too far!”
The story of Laken being the driver of the car my sister died in could have been left out of the media spotlight. My live performances were already making waves, so we didn’t need the sympathy vote. However, Knox still drafted multiple press releases on the very subject I wanted to keep out of the public eye.
He put not just my hurt out for the world to see but my family’s as well.
“I wasn’t asked a single question about Rise Up or songwriting today during my interview. Every single question either focused on my ‘alleged’ stalker or my sister's death.” I whack him in the chest when my anger becomes too prominent to ignore. “They even went as far as visiting Colette’s gravesite to get footage for an upcoming segment. That’s beyond disrespectful. I’ve never been more disgusted.”
Nothing I say gets through to him. He stands at the side of the almost-back-to-normal living room, looking smug as he rides the gravy train to the station.
“And what about River? Did you consider him at all while dragging his family’s name through the mud?”
“His brother is a murderer.” He laughs like he said something funny. “His name can’t get more stained.”
“Last time I checked, the dangerous operation of a motor vehicle that results in a death is not murder!”
I don’t blame the men surrounding us for throwing the electrical equipment into their travel cases with no concern of breakages.
I want off this train too and this is my life.
Knox doesn’t wait for them to leave before reminding me of the cruel words that left my mouth three nights ago. “You called him a murderer. You accused him of killing your sister.”
“I was upset and confused. I didn’t know what I was saying.”
Am I really defending him?
Am I taking the side of the man who left my sister to die alone?
I shake off my thoughts for a better time. Today needs to be about Colette. “It doesn’t matter what I said. I’m appalled you’re making my family suffer through Colette’s loss all over again for a couple of extra album sales. It makes me sick to my stomach that you’re trying to profit from this. So much so, I’m considering pulling the album’s release.”
I swear steam billows out of his ears as he snatches up my arm. “What the fuck did you say?”
As his nails pierce my skin, I say, “Let go of me. You’re hurting me.”
When my plea falls on deaf ears, I look at the men still lingering in the living room, soundlessly seeking their assistance. I realize they’re paid by Knox when they pay no heed to the cruelness of his hold. They don’t come to my defense at all. They continue packing away their equipment like they’re the only people in the suite.
Even scared, I yank out of Knox's hold before assuring him my family’s pain will never be used for financial gain. “I won’t let you do this, Knox. Death isn’t a gimmick for profit.”
When he throws his head back and laughs as if I couldn’t be more wrong, I glare at him before storming into my room. He might think his contract is ironclad, but I have news for him.
I wanted to do this off my own back, but that doesn’t mean I was stupid enough to sign a contract without having a lawyer look at it first.
“Regan ripped Knox Records’ original contract to shreds before drafting a fairer and more balanced proposal.” I crank my neck back to Knox before giving him one of the many narrowed glares he hit me with when he used Apollo to outvote me on concepts for my album. “If you didn’t read it before signing it, that’s a ‘you’ problem.”
My anger augments when my scan of the dresser in my room has me failing to locate my phone. That’s where I left it after speaking with Jenni and Emily. I placed it on top of my songbook—my missing songbook.
“Where is it?” I ask, my fury high. “Where is my stuff?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” For someone who lies for a living, Knox is horrendously bad at it. “I didn’t take your shit, Nicole,” he murmurs when I barge past him to storm into his office slash bedroom to search for my belongings. “I put it away for safekeeping.” He looks as smug as a pig in mud while rubbing his hands together. “That book will sell for a fortune in a few years.”
“It’s not for sale. It will never be for sale.”