Page 7 of Dissonance

Tyler’s smile flickers. I step forward before any doubt can take root, hand on his shoulder, head already shaking.

“He won’t say no,” I say firmly. “Trust me.”

That steadies him. He nods once more, grabs his jacket, and heads for the door, hesitating before he looks back. “Thank you, Thea.”

“Don’t mention it.”

When the door shuts behind them, I stare at it and exhale slowly. Tyler isn’t reckless. He isn’t careless either, he’s just…visible. Too visible. Open wide to an industry that feeds on distortion. The chaos doesn’t follow him because he creates it. It gets manufactured around him, packaged neatly with his name attached and handed to a press cycle with no interest in the truth as long as the story sells.

It’s exhausting the way it never quite lets up.

Crossing back to my desk, I drop into my chair and press my fingers to my temples when I see the three missed calls from my dad staring back at me.

Can I not have five minutes without drama?

“You’re still representing ZeroSaint?” he demands the second he picks up. “After I told you to drop him? Have you lost your mind?”

“Hi to you too.”

“He’s a liability, Thea.” He continues. “Drugs, altercations, constant headlines. This is exactly the kind of risk you don’t need right now.”

I can’t handle, you mean.

“He’s not on drugs,” I say evenly. “And you, of all people, should know better than to believe everything you read.”

“That doesn’t matter,” he shoots back. “Perception is what matters. And his is toxic.”

“I can handle it. I’m not some young intern anymore, Dad. I can do this.”

“With what time?” His tone shifts, less anger, more concern. “You’re already juggling Sip Station and Reign Cooper.”

“Sip Station has just gone platinum again,” I remind him.

My gaze drifts to the framed plaque on the wall, silver and clean, mounted slightly crooked, which makes my fingers itch to straighten it. The proof that I know what I’m doing, even when some people in my life seem to forget it.

“Which is exactly why you don’t need to take on someone unstable. Come back under my umbrella, darling. Keep your artists if you want, but let me oversee this level of exposure. I’ve been doing this longer than you.”

And there it is. Not control or cruelty, just protection wrapped in doubt. A dull ache pushes behind my eyes.

“I don’t need your oversight. I can do this on my own.”

“You don’t need to prove anything,” he replies, and I can picture him pacing his office. “Come back and work with me.”

Leaning back in my chair, I let my eyes fall closed. “That’s not why I’m doing this.”

He pauses, tone softening. “You’re stretching yourself thin, Thea. This industry doesn’t forgive mistakes.”

“I won’t make any.”

He exhales slowly. “You’re being stubborn.”

“Learned from the best.”

That earns a huffed laugh.

“I have another meeting,” I say before this can circle back around. “We’ll talk later.”

“I only want what’s best for you.”