She stood at the edge of the group, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. The vibrant lights of the venue flickered, casting shifting shadows across the sea of faces, but all she could see was him. As he navigated through the crowd, their eyes locked, and an unsettling mix of fear and anticipation washed over her. Panic surged within her. Each of his steps felt like a countdown to a moment she dreaded.
His presence brought a terror she couldn't ignore.
Bobby, ever the loyal friend, leaned in closer, sensing her unease. His eyes reflected concern, urging her to share her burdens, but she felt the weight of her secrets pressing down. Madison reveled in the chaos, her enjoyment of her discomfort.
"Are you okay?" Bobby asked, pulling her from her thoughts.
"Yeah, just...thinking," she forced out, but it felt like a mask slipping from her grasp.
Madison interjected, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "You must be having some pretty dark thoughts up there."
She felt as if the air was being squeezed from her lungs, each step he took amplifying the beat of her heart. It was as though the closer he got to them—more so to her—the more her nerves crackled like electricity coursing through her veins. Her heart drummed louder, the hairs prickling at the back of her neck. Madison's taunting smirk only added fuel, sparking a desire to snap back—a thrill and a fear intertwined.
Her mind raced, repeating Oh my god, oh my god like a mantra, until the words slipped out as a hushed whisper. Bobby scrunched his eyebrows in confusion, glancing between her and the approaching figure. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her hands nervously rubbing together.
"Oh my god." She whispered loudly as she scanned the room, desperately searching for an escape.
The room felt too small. Too bright. Shadows danced at the edges, teasing her with memories she couldn't face. Her heart raced—thump, thump. He was watching. She could feel it.
"'Mr. Hitachi, hello,' Madison purred, leaning forward as if to draw him in. He barely acknowledged her, offering only a brief nod before turning his full attention back to her. Madison's flirtation hung in the air, awkward and unreturned.
The atmosphere shifted, the air thickening with an unspoken darkness. He took a moment to scrutinize her, his gaze running over her like an X-ray, piercing through the façade she had built around herself. He was the perfect poker player, exuding calm confidence, while she felt like a janky hand, unsure of how to play the cards currently dealt to her.
"Ms. Faison," he finally spoke, his voice smooth yet laced with an authority that sent a shiver down her spine.
The air was thick, suffocating. A whisper in her ears- 'Run.'
'Run. Just get out.' Her mind screamed at her.
She couldn't just hike her dress up and run away like a chicken with her head cut off... Not now.
Bobby turned to her, concern etching his features.
"Are you sure you're okay?" The muffled murmur of voices wrapped around her, indistinct but pressing, like she was a lone figure in a vast crowd, unseen but scrutinized.
With a deep breath, she attempted to summon her signature fake smile, but it faltered, cracking under the pressure. She stuttered as she spoke, her mind racing to regain composure.
"Mr. Hitachi," she stammered, the name feeling foreign on her tongue, as if it belonged to someone else. Memories flooded her mind, making it hard to keep her composure. She wanted to scream, to cry, to push him away and pull him closer all at once.
Her eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign of Tae-Yang. A part of her already knew he wouldn't be there to ease her discomfort; she wasn't expecting him to. If anything, his presence would only amplify the unease already simmering under her skin, tightening the tension between them until it was almost unbearable.
"W-what are you doing here?" She could feel her heart skip.
"I heard you'd be here tonight, so I thought I'd pop up…" He paused, his words trailing off deliberately, a subtle but all-too-familiar tease. His gaze was relentless, and the room closed in, narrowing to just them. She could feel her pulse in her throat, her vision narrowing, waiting for his next move.
"…on you." Memories flooded her mind—those quiet words, the ones that pulled her in before she realized what she was risking.
Her Momma's warnings echoed softly, a reminder of neglected advice. She wished she had listened and chosen a simpler, less controversial path. The familiar heat of his gaze felt like a brand, tethering her to every impulsive decision, every whispered word she'd chosen to believe back then. That ghost of herself resurfaced, brittle and easy to sway.
'How far can you really run from someone like him?' her Momma had asked long ago. Turns out, not far enough.
He had been there through the hollow days and sleepless nights, the one who saw her at her worst and pulled her out of it. When she'd wanted to give up, when the spotlight's heat turned cold and the industry showed its ugly side, it was he who had been her anchor, keeping her grounded when everyone else drifted away. She had no one else but him.
He was her Siegfried, steady and unflinching, with a sword in hand, to save her from herself.
Meeting his gaze reignited the familiar flutter of butterflies in her stomach, momentarily isolating them from the world around. He was the solace for the emptiness fame and wealth failed to fill.
And here he was again, close enough to touch, close enough to dredge up all the longing, anger, and regret she thought she'd buried.
She plastered on a too-bright smile, her voice taking on a forced cheeriness.
"Oh, great."
Bobby jumped in, eyes lighting up as he took in Hikaru's ensemble. "That suit is something else."
As the two men fell into a comfortable rhythm dissecting Hikaru's outfit, she found herself mentally cataloging his look, her irritation simmering. He annoyed her with his predictable style choices, a carefully crafted uniform that he rarely deviated from.
'You're so fucking typical,' she thought.
He wasn't the star, nor the main attraction; on any given day, you wouldn't pick him out from a crowd. On the red carpet, his subtlety was intentional. Yet, despite his understated choices, she could recognize the designer from a mile away.
'Dior, of course.' She thought, pursing her lips together.
A classic Dior virgin wool suit—three bands, easily. The jacket was black, single-breasted, paired with a basic white Burberry button-down. But he'd made one modest concession: a Hermès dragon tie in a deep marine red, a step up from his usual plain black.
She rolled her eyes as she took in his footwear, a fresh pair of black Jacob Lobb Oxfords, either new or freshly polished to a gleam. If she knew him, it was the latter.
Fifty black suits, and yet he only wore the same three, obsessing over the fabrics, and the feels of said fabrics. Virgin wool, he'd once corrected her—insisting she learn the distinction between that and merino. She didn't understand, nor did she care. It was all the same to her.
Madison lingered, watching the exchange like a fly on the wall, her gaze flitting between them with a smug satisfaction that made her skin prickle. Catching herself, she straightened, forcing her expression into something more neutral.
Madison seized her chance, leaning forward with a sly smile.
"So, Mr. Hitachi, any new talent bubbling up at your label? Maybe someone with a fresh sound?"
Each glance from Hikaru felt like a spotlight on her flaws, every second of his unbreakable composure driving home her own ragged edges—proof that her starlight, once blinding, had faded to a brittle glow. Hikaru's expression didn't waver, but he dismissed Madison's question with an air of finality.
"None worth mentioning," he replied smoothly, then paused, shifting his attention to Madison, his tone warming.
"But you do look beautiful tonight." His gaze flickered to her before returning to Madison, so quick it was almost imperceptible, and she felt something twist inside her. Bitterness, frustration—emotions she thought she'd suppressed.
A server appeared with a tray of champagne flutes, their crystal catching the soft venue lights. Hikaru swiftly grabbed one, passing it to her before choosing his own.
She held her glass, but her attention drifted to Hikaru, who merely swirled the champagne in his, not taking a sip.
'Typical-' she thought, biting back a sigh. He'd always been this way—a drink in hand to blend in, yet never really drinking. He'd hold onto it all night, taking only the tiniest sips to maintain the illusion.
The habit annoyed her, almost as much as his strict, predictable style. It was as if he'd planned every move, every word, like the whole night was part of his unbreakable routine.
"So, Mr. Hitachi, when can I expect you to come on Mornings with Madison?" she asked, voice sweet.
"I'd love to get you talking about Hitcon. You know, the public wants to hear all about what it's like to be a young mogul on the rise." Her words floated into the air, baiting him.
Hikaru's expression didn't flicker. He took a slow sip of his champagne, his gaze barely shifting to meet hers.
"Appreciate the invite, Madison," he replied, polite but measured. "The label's been keeping me occupied."
For a fleeting moment, his eyes flickered to her, something unreadable flashing in them before he returned his gaze to Madison. She felt her own mix of irritation and apprehension rise, barely holding in a frown at the reminder. She knew how these conversations went.
"Besides, I'm not really a 'celebrity'," he added, with the faintest hint of a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
He gave a subtle nod in her direction. "That's more of Kay Olivia's domain."
"Well, this is for a new segment of the show, and I think you'd be the perfect first guest," Madison said, in a sugary voice before she laughed.
"You could even do something like a TED Talk."
Hikaru's eyes flickered, a hint of amusement. "TED Talks aren't my thing."
"Besides, what would I even talk about on there?" he asked, his tone playfully dismissive.
"You're a Hitachi, one of Tokyo's wealthiest families," Madison said, sounding almost flabbergasted.
"You could talk about anything under the sun," she pressed, her voice laced with an undercurrent of challenge. She could feel her heartbeat quicken, a silent battle of wills unfolding in the charged space between them
Hikaru's expression didn't budge.
"Whenever she decides that she's done with her little hiatus…" He looked at her with a soft smile.
"Maybe I can talk her into it." She forced herself to keep smiling, teeth clenched against the bitter tinge his words left. Her fingers dug into the stem of her glass as she fought to steady herself.
"Well…" She trailed, before looking at her with a smile that irritated her soul. "Of course, I would love to have Miss B.I.A on the show." Madison scoffed, shaking her head gesturing to her.
"Who wouldn't, right!"
Her thoughts circled back to her reality, the painful truth of why she'd been blackballed and barred from every TV station and radio show across the coast and beyond. She thought about Madison, standing there, pretending as if she hadn't been the reason for all of it. As if she hadn't started vicious rumors to give her friend a boost, pushing her down for the sake of her own clout. Madison had manipulated her public image, turning her into some tabloid spectacle—a scandal magnet, a troublemaker, even an industry "thot" in certain headlines.
"She's a little fireball!" She laughed obnoxiously.
And she'd almost exposed her, almost revealed her secrets to the world, labeling her as a "fraternizer," a liability in an industry obsessed with spotless reputations.
Apologies were never an option. Not to the network heads who'd shut her out, not to Madison or Cindy West, and certainly not to Kiza Tatiago. There was a sense of resolve in that thought, yet a familiar sting of isolation threaded through it as well.
"Are we still in blacklist territory, or have I been upgraded to tolerable?" she asked, mimicking Madison's valley-girl tone, tilting her head just so.
For a split second, Madison's carefully constructed smile faltered. But with practiced ease, she slipped back into her polished facade, her tone thick with feigned concern.
"Blacklist? Oh, please, Olivia. That's such a dramatic word." She tilts her head, lips curved in an almost pitying smile. "Things just… happen."
She knew how this game was played—rules within rules, and one of them was never to acknowledge the brutal truths, especially in a room full of cameras and eyes that wouldn't blink twice before spreading gossip. She could practically see the headlines that would spread like wildfire if anyone overheard, the words scrolling through her mind as vividly as a news ticker: Kay O Calls Out Madison on Blackballing Scandal. The smirk played at her lips as she let her gaze linger on Madison, who, in turn, barely missed a beat.
"Oh, I'm not sure what you're talking about, Kay Olivia," Madison continued, her smile tight as ever, though there was no mistaking the glint in her eyes.
"There may have been a few… misunderstandings, sure. But I didn't realize you felt blackballed."
Madison's voice softened, shifting as she leaned closer.
"If it's about what happened last year…" Her gaze darted across the room to her boss before looking back to her.
"I'm sure we can work things out… If you came on my show." She could feel Madison's hand land on her shoulder, cold and invasive, sparking a surge of irritation that she just managed to contain. Her body tensed under the unwelcome touch, every fiber of her itching to pull away, but she forced a mask of politeness as she met Madison's gaze. Madison's fingers pressed a little too firmly, and with a patronizing rub to her shoulder, she let out a forced laugh.
"Oh, I think it's such a silly thing, don't you?" Madison cooed, punctuating her statement with an obnoxious laugh that cut right through her forced restraint.
"Rumors are funny that way. Once they start, they have a way of sticking." Madison shrugged.
"Like… It's funny how some rumors can really stick, isn't it?"
A flicker of fear danced across her face; she could feel the frown tug at her lips. She felt like she was going to be sick.
Madison's eyes flicked slyly between her and Hikaru, a gleam of something wicked revealing itself.
She felt her face tighten, her stomach lurching, nausea tightening her throat as her mind spun in a dizzying spiral. Everything around her seemed to blur at the edges, the sound of clinking glasses and idle chatter fading into a dull, echoing hum. She was tumbling, free-falling into some dark, inescapable void, a tightness squeezing her chest until she could barely breathe.
But as the room seemed to close in around her, she noticed the silence—Hikaru's silence, absolute and damning, a heavy weight in the air. He said nothing, offering her no refuge, no defense. And Bobby just stared, wide-eyed, watching the scene unfold with a mix of discomfort and fascination.
"Hollywood is such a crazy place, things just so easily become a part of you, your legacy, your history." Madison's voice dripped with an infuriating mix of superiority and false innocence. She could feel her pulse quicken, her muscles tensing as she fought to keep her expression calm.
She saw through Madison's act with a searing clarity, her blood boiling at the hypocrisy of it all. Madison's careful choice of words didn't fool her; the woman was testing her limits.
"I mean, it's not like it's true, right?" Madison's voice held a tentative note, laced with a subtle accusation barely hidden beneath a polite veneer.
Her reply was edged with defiance.
"Is what true?" It sounded like a whisper to her ears. She locked eyes with Madison, refusing to back down even as Bobby's dark gaze signaled her to let it go. But she was past that now.
'I dare you to say it to my face,' she thought, challenging Madison with every fiber of her being.
Madison's laugh was hollow, her eyes flashing with triumph as she leaned in closer, cupping her hand to her ear, lowering her voice to a venomous whisper, that only she could hear.
"That you're fucking your boss..." Her heart lurched, a sickening blend of shame and anger twisting in her chest, mingling with memories she'd tried to bury.
The room buzzed with electricity, each heartbeat echoing in her ears as anxiety coiled tight in her stomach. She scanned the crowd, champagne flutes clinking and laughter mixing into the background. Despite the pressure, she kept her face impassive, refusing to give Madison the satisfaction she craved.
Madison leaned in with a smirk. "But that would be crazy, right?" Her tone dripped with sweet condescension.
"Absolutely." She tightened her grip on her glass, her voice steady as she met Madison's gaze without flinching.
Madison's smile wavered briefly, but she recovered, laughing dismissively as she turned to go. "Goodbye, boys," she called to Bobby and Hikaru, flashing a too-bright smile before disappearing into the crowd.
She watched her go, eyes narrowed, her mind already turning with a hundred ways to beat Madison at her own game. It didn't have to be today. But one day, Madison would know better than to underestimate her.