Ursula lifted a hand and brushed my cheek, her tone put-upon.
"Aaron twisted his ankle, and he's been crying so hard. I have to give him something."
"Relax. I'm just having you cool your heels inside for a few days, keep up appearances. Once I finish shooting the MV with Aaron, I'll get you out."
The night before Aaron's concert, Ursula had her assistant submit a letter of forgiveness and brought me out.
My hair was a mess and my face was pale as they walked me into a private suite at a club.
Aaron had an arm around Ursula's waist, sipping champagne, a few of his biggest fans seated beside him.
Every one of them had put real money into pushing him up the charts.
When she saw my pale face and the scratches on my neck, Ursula shot to her feet.
"How did you end up in such a state? Was someone bullying you in there?"
The moment she said it, Aaron snorted a laugh.
"Ms. Harding, did you find out ahead of time that Ursula was bringing you here to apologize to me, so you faked those wounds on purpose to weasel out of it?"
"No wonder a few of the tattoo-sticker props went missing when I was shooting the MV. Turns out you stole them."
At that, Ursula sat back down, the concern gone from her eyes.
"Thomas, I don't have time to play games with you."
"Tomorrow is Aaron's concert. But the photos of you throwing your drink on him leaked online, and now everyone's calling him a homewrecker. It's really gotten to him. He's botched the rehearsal several times."
"For the sake of Aaron's reputation and his future, you're going to apologize to him now, live, in front of the whole country, and we'll call it even."
I looked at her.
"So the moment I apologize, I won't owe you anything anymore?"
Ursula hesitated, then nodded anyway.
Expressionless, I turned toward the phone cameras those fans were holding up.
"I'm sorry. Aaron isn't a homewrecker."
Aaron gave a disdainful little laugh.
"Thomas, with an attitude like that, are you trying to fob off idiots?"
"Then what do you want?"
He pointed at the full bottle of hard liquor on the coffee table.
"I don't mind being wrongly accused. But I can't stand my fans getting called brain-dead by everyone else because of you."
"You threw a glass of liquor on me back then. Now I'm having you down a whole bottle. That's fair, isn't it?"
I looked at Ursula.
I remembered the night the doctor told her that during my post-surgery recovery I absolutely could not drink.
Because it would react with the medication I was taking and cause severe damage to my stomach lining.
But she only frowned, impatient.
"Thomas, no use looking at me. You made the mistake, you carry it."
"It's just one bottle. It won't kill you."
The corner of my mouth twitched. So she'd already forgotten.
Or rather, anything to do with me simply wasn't worth keeping in her mind.
And she certainly wouldn't care that for those few days I'd been deliberately locked up with Aaron's fans, 'taught a lesson' in a new way every day.
A whole bottle of hard liquor, poison going down, my stomach cramping in waves.
Right there, I coughed up blood.
Before Ursula could open her mouth, Aaron let out a mock gasp.
"Thomas, so you stole my blood pack too? Tsk. What a scheming piece of work."
"Fine. Since you tried so hard with the performance, we'll let it slide this time. But no more bullying me from now on, okay? Ursula, come back with me and get some beauty sleep. We've got an early start tomorrow to get ready."
Ursula took his hand and left. As she passed me, she dropped a handkerchief at my feet.
"Wipe yourself clean. Cut out these stunts from now on. They're childish."
Like she was dealing with a dog that had embarrassed her.
But what she didn't notice was that the few fans Aaron had brought hadn't left with them.
