Avery turned her back on Quinn and walked straight into her bedroom.

She pushed open the heavy doors of her walk-in closet.

Her eyes skimmed past the soft pastels and elegant silk dresses she usually wore for her daytime talk show. She hated them right now.

She reached into the back and yanked out a sharp, tailored black power suit.

Ten minutes later, she sat at her vanity. She uncapped a tube of deep, blood-red lipstick and painted it over her pale lips, masking every ounce of vulnerability.

Quinn walked into the bedroom, ending her call. She stopped and let out a low whistle at Avery's reflection.

Avery picked up a pair of oversized black sunglasses and slid them onto her face.

They walked out of the apartment in silence, taking the private elevator directly down to the underground garage.

Quinn hit the unlock button on her keys. The headlights of a black Range Rover flashed in the dim concrete structure.

Avery pulled open the passenger door and slid into the leather seat, pulling the seatbelt tight across her chest.

Quinn started the engine. The heavy rumble echoed off the concrete walls.

The SUV drove up the ramp and burst out onto the street. The blinding California sun hit the windshield.

Avery rolled her window down an inch, needing to breathe. The hot wind hit her face as her brain shifted into full PR mode.

She pulled out her tablet.

"I need you to map out every hidden camera blind spot in that house," Avery said, her eyes locked on the screen.

Quinn kept her eyes on the road. "Do not show any aggression on camera, Avery. They will edit you into the villain."

Avery let out a cold breath. "I'm going to play the perfect, fragile, resilient victim."

The Range Rover stopped at a red light. A bright yellow convertible pulled up into the lane next to them.

The convertible's radio was blasting a local gossip station.

"Avery Bird's career is officially in the grave, folks," the radio host laughed loudly over the speakers.

The three teenage girls in the convertible turned their heads. Through the newly opened gap in the tinted glass, one of them caught a clear view of Avery's unshielded profile.

Their eyes widened. They immediately shoved their phones over the door panel, snapping rapid-fire photos.

"Homewrecker!" one of the girls screamed, her face contorted with disgust.

Quinn cursed under her breath and slammed her finger on the window button, rolling the glass up tight to cut off the noise.

Avery stared straight ahead. The muscles in her face didn't twitch.

The light turned green. Quinn slammed on the gas, leaving the convertible far behind.

Quinn shot a worried glance at the passenger seat. "Are you going to survive this?"

Avery pulled off her sunglasses. Her eyes were sharp.

"That was just the appetizer."

She opened the Twitter app on her phone, scrolling through the fresh wave of hate comments, letting the anger fuel her.

Suddenly, a breaking news alert popped up at the top of her feed.

It showed a massive crowd of fans blocking the main entrance of the network headquarters.

Avery zoomed in on the photo. Hundreds of girls were holding up neon signs, swarming the street.

"There aren't any boy bands recording today," Avery muttered, her brow furrowing.

Quinn glanced down at the GPS on the dashboard. The main road leading to the studio was glowing dark red.

The Range Rover was forced to a complete stop at the next intersection. Ahead of them was an endless ocean of cars and screaming people.

Quinn slammed the heel of her hand against the steering wheel, laying on the horn. The wall of cars ahead of them didn't move an inch.

Avery rolled down her window. The heavy scent of car exhaust mixed with cheap vanilla perfume flooded the cabin.

A group of girls holding pink glittery signs sprinted past their car, nearly taking off the side mirror.

Avery leaned her head out the window, following the direction the girls were running.

Her eyes locked onto the side of the massive network building. A giant billboard was slowly unrolling from the roof.

It was a man's face in profile. His jawline was sharp, his eyes dark and completely devoid of warmth.

Avery's heart stopped. A painful, hollow ache punched through her chest, stealing all the air from her lungs.

At the bottom of the billboard, bold gold letters read: Graham Gilbert - Global Tour.

Quinn followed Avery's gaze and let out a loud gasp.

"No way," Quinn said, slapping the steering wheel in excitement. "The King of Pop is back from the UK? He actually came back?"

Avery immediately rolled up her window. She pressed her head back against the leather headrest and squeezed her eyes shut.

Memories of a rain-soaked street in New York seven years ago flashed behind her eyelids, making her temples throb with a sharp, stabbing pain.

Quinn didn't notice. She was already scrolling on her phone.

"Graham never does variety shows or reality TV," Quinn babbled. "The network must have paid him an absolute fortune to get him in that building today."

Avery opened her eyes. She stared at her own pale reflection in the side mirror.

"He used to hate loud crowds," Avery whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

The inside of the car was too quiet. Quinn's head snapped toward her.

Quinn's brow furrowed in deep confusion. "How do you know what his personal preferences are?"

Avery's stomach dropped. Her fingers instantly went to the seam of the leather seat, picking at the stitching.

"I just... I read a few of his early interviews," Avery lied, her voice tight.

Quinn narrowed her eyes. Her manager instincts were fully activated.

A traffic cop up ahead waved a glowing baton, and the cars slowly started to inch forward.

Quinn pressed the gas pedal slightly, but her eyes kept darting to Avery. "Are you hiding a connection from me? Because right now, any connection is a lifeline."

Avery looked out the window. The network building was looming closer. She knew she couldn't avoid him inside.

She took a slow, deep breath, turning her head to look Quinn dead in the eye.

"We know each other," Avery said flatly. "We're old acquaintances."

Quinn's foot flew off the gas and slammed violently onto the brake pedal.

The tires shrieked against the hot asphalt.

The car behind them blared its horn in rage, but Quinn didn't flinch. She stared at Avery like she had grown a second head.

"How old?" Quinn's voice shook. "How exactly do you know Graham Gilbert?"

Avery didn't answer right away. She turned her head back to the window, staring up at the cold, untouchable eyes on the billboard.

The driver behind them held down his horn, the sound piercing through the glass.

Quinn cursed, hitting the gas and jerking the Range Rover down the ramp into the underground VIP parking garage.

The inside of the car was dead silent. Quinn gripped the steering wheel so hard her knuckles were bone white, waiting for Avery to finish her sentence.

The SUV hit a speed bump, bouncing violently. Avery used the physical jolt to force the words out of her throat.

"He's my ex-boyfriend," Avery said, staring blankly at the dim fluorescent lights passing overhead.

Quinn sucked in a sharp breath. Her hands jerked, and the heavy SUV swerved, missing a concrete pillar by less than an inch.

Quinn slammed the car into park in a VIP spot and whipped her entire body around to face Avery.

Before Quinn could open her mouth to scream, a frantic pounding hit the passenger side window.

Three girls wearing black masks and heavy cameras around their necks had clearly bribed a guard or slipped through the broken service elevator, bypassing security entirely. They were pressing their faces against the glass.

One of the girls recognized Avery. She ripped off her mask and shoved her middle finger right against the window.

Even through the thick glass, Avery could hear the muffled screams. "Homewrecker! Slut!"

Quinn saw red. She reached for her door handle to get out and fight them.

Avery's hand shot out, clamping down hard on Quinn's wrist.

"Don't," Avery commanded, her voice ice-cold. "You'll just give TMZ another headline."

Avery picked up her black sunglasses and slid them on. She pushed open her door and stepped out into the humid garage.

She stood perfectly straight, her posture rigid, completely ignoring the girls screaming inches from her face.

The paparazzi froze for a split second, intimidated by her absolute lack of reaction, before they started snapping photos frantically.

Avery's heels clicked sharply against the concrete as she walked toward the VIP elevator bank.

Just as she neared the doors, the heavy metal fire exit to her right burst open.

Four massive bodyguards flooded into the garage.

Blinding beams from their tactical flashlights swept across the dark space, hitting the paparazzi. The girls shrieked and scrambled backward.

Surrounded by the wall of muscle, a tall figure stepped out of the shadows.

Avery's feet stopped moving. Her heel scraped against the floor, making a harsh, abrupt sound.

It was Graham.

He was wearing a dark, custom-tailored suit. The boyish softness she remembered from seven years ago was entirely gone, replaced by the suffocating, heavy aura of a man who owned the world.

Avery stared at him through her dark lenses. All the oxygen vanished from the garage. Her chest tightened so painfully she couldn't breathe.

The paparazzi girls saw him and lost their minds, screaming his name and trying to lunge forward, but the bodyguards shoved them back.

Graham didn't look at the girls. He walked straight toward the elevators, his strides long, heavy, and completely unbothered.

Avery instinctively took a half-step back, her fingers curling tightly into the pockets of her suit jacket.

The distance between them vanished.

As he walked past her, the crisp, cold scent of cedarwood hit Avery's senses, violently dragging her back to a rainy night in New York.

Avery lifted her chin slightly, bracing herself for the anger, the questions, or the mockery she deserved.

He walked past her, his gaze not shifting a single millimeter, as if she were an insignificant crack in the concrete wall. But as the distance between them disappeared, Avery felt the temperature around her plummet to freezing, a suppressed, suffocating chill as the man swept past her with the chill of a raging storm.

Avery stood frozen on the concrete. A massive, crushing weight of disappointment and a sharp, stinging pain gripped her heart.