Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 41 - Chapitre 45

Gerald’s call came three days after the sentencing, his voice quieter than I’d ever heard it, none of the authority he used to carry left in it at all. “They’re charging me,” he said, without preamble. “Obstruction, mostly. For covering up what happened at the studio. Some financial negligence too, for never catching what Evelyn was doing with the label’s money over the years.” “Gerald.” I sat down slowly, Cole moving to stand beside me, listening. “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be. I earned this one honestly, unlike most of what happened to either of you.” A tired exhale. “I’m stepping down from the label. Effective immediately. My lawyer says cooperating fully might keep me out of actual prison time, but I’m losing everything else. The company. The reputation. All of it.” “What happens to the artists,” I asked. “The ones still signed.” “New management’s already being arranged. You’ll be taken care of, don’t worry about that part.” A pause, heavier than the rest. “I wanted you both to hear

The safe house Marissa was staying in sat two hours outside the city, plain and unremarkable, much like the one we’d hidden in months earlier. A federal agent met us at the door, checking identification even though Reyes herself had arranged the visit. Marissa looked younger than her voice had suggested on the phone, younger than Cole, though the resemblance between them was unmistakable once I saw them standing in the same room, the same careful way of watching a space before deciding it was safe. “You look just like her,” Cole said, voice thick with five years of longing finally given somewhere to land. “Mom, I mean. Around the eyes.” “So I’ve been told.” Marissa’s smile was tentative, uncertain of how much closeness either of them had earned back yet. “Thank you for coming. Both of you.” We sat in a small living room, agents positioned discreetly near the exits, and Marissa wrapped her hands around a mug of tea like she needed something to hold onto before saying what she’d ask

“You’ve been weird all day,” I said, watching Cole pace the kitchen for the third time in ten minutes, phone in his pocket he kept checking without pulling out.“I’m not weird. I’m thinking.”“About what.”“Things.” He caught himself, stopping mid-step, running a hand through his hair. “The album drops next week. I’m proud of you. That’s all.”“You’re a terrible liar for someone who used to write for a living.”“I wrote true things, mostly. Lying was never my strong suit.” He crossed the kitchen, kissing my forehead quick before grabbing his jacket off the hook. “I have an errand. Back in an hour.”“An errand.”“Yes. A normal, boring errand that has nothing to do with anything.” He was already halfway out the door, and I laughed at his back, deciding not to push further, some instinct telling me whatever he was planning deserved the space to unfold on its own.He came back an hour later exactly as promised, calmer, something settled in his expression that hadn’t been there when he lef