Chapter 5

Nausea rose in Magpie's throat. She took a breath and forced down the urge to detonate.

Too many eyes. She wasn't going to tank her own event. This was her work.

But right at that moment, they hit the segment on the main product, and Celine very visibly lost the thread.

She blanked mid-sentence. Just stood there, stuck.

A journalist jumped on it. Celine fell apart.

"The… technical side is complicated. It's kind of like an app algorithm, I think?"

The room broke into muffled laughter. Murmurs spread. The brand rep's face went thunderous.

Then, probably from the panic, Celine knocked over a glass of water on the display table. It splashed across a showcase-only speaker unit beside her.

A shrill feedback squeal. The screen flickered. Black.

The crowd erupted.

"Oh my God. Is it fried?"

"Did they pay her to sabotage this?"

"She can't even explain the basic function. Why would the studio bring her out? This is a joke."

Celine froze onstage. Her face went chalk white. She turned wet, wounded eyes toward Damon.

Damon signaled his security team to help her offstage. He calmed her down. Then he turned back to Magpie.

"She just got nervous. Next time, give her more prep, it'll be fine."

The launch ended early. It wasn't over. It was dismantled.

Magpie said nothing. Her phone started vibrating nonstop.

First, the actress's agent. A blistering message about the studio's lack of professionalism.

Then, an email from the partnering brand demanding an explanation and a liability discussion.

Then, three other project leads she'd been in talks with, all politely pulling back "to reconsider."

Finally, an emergency summary from her studio. Three confirmed partners were formally pulling out and demanding penalty compensation.

Magpie didn't look at Damon's face. She simply held her phone up.

The partnering brand's formal complaint, the cancellation notices, the projected financial damage from her studio.

Damon's eyes passed over the screen. His brow pulled into a line.

"Minor setback. I'll have someone handle it. Whatever you lose, I'll double."

He turned and stepped out onto the small terrace to take a call. Celine lifted her head and looked at Magpie.

Whatever fear had been on her face was gone. All that was left was smug satisfaction. A challenge.

"See? I just have to say the word, and Damon can take your whole studio and use it as a stepping stone for me."

"Magpie, if I were you, I'd have gotten out of the way a long time ago. Why hang on to that Mrs. Sterling title when no one wants you in it? Two years. Two years of rolling on the floor and screaming and threatening to die. You lost every scrap of face a woman can lose. And for what?"

"You couldn't even hold on to one man. Honestly, you lost so badly I'm almost embarrassed for you."

Magpie looked at Celine's self-satisfied face. And then she laughed.

"Yeah. I did lose it."

"So since you know what I'm capable of, what possessed you to come at me face to face?"

Before the sentence was even done, Magpie's hand snapped across the space between them.

Crack.

A clean, hard slap echoed through the room.

Celine staggered back a step, cupped her cheek, and stared, wide-eyed.

She clearly hadn't expected Magpie to actually hit her.

Almost at the same instant, Damon finished his call and turned back around.

What he saw was Magpie's hand connecting with Celine's face, and Celine on the floor.

"Magpie!"

His face transformed. He shoved Magpie aside and pulled Celine against him.

The push caught Magpie completely off guard. His full weight went into it. She stumbled backward.

Her hip slammed into the sharp corner of the display table. A splitting pain shot through her, cold sweat breaking across her back instantly.

Damon didn't notice. He was already checking Celine's face. Then he turned furiously on Magpie.

"Magpie. Enough. I said I'd double what you lost. I said triple. Whatever you want."

"It used to be just smashing cars and burning a club down. Now you're hitting people? When did you get this vicious?"

Vicious.

Magpie braced herself on the edge of the table and forced herself upright through the pain.

"This is me being vicious."

"Then what are you? You drained your daughter's trust fund, you brought a mistress to a work event of mine and torched it. What does that make you? An animal?"

Damon looked like he'd never been confronted by her this way before. His chest heaved. He pointed at her.

"Magpie. Let's see how long you can keep this attitude up."

He tightened his arm around Celine, turned, and walked out without looking back.

The pain at her hip grew sharper. Her chest felt numb.

She slid down the side of the table and closed her eyes.

That push. The weight of it. The pain still radiating through her side. It spelled it out in a language nothing else could.

The man who'd once sworn he couldn't bear to see her furrow her brow, he'd died a long time ago.