Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Grace
The press conference had been a flawless performance, the kind of carefully crafted public appearance that kept DreamCrest untouchable.
The reporters had thrown their usual scripted questions—questions designed to keep the illusion intact.
The guys had answered smoothly, their smiles never slipping, their energy always just high enough to sell the fantasy.
They had joked, flirted with the cameras, dodged anything too personal with effortless charm.
Perfect. That’s what the world wanted from them. That’s what they expected.
And the second the lights shut off, everything changed.
Dominic barely made it past the back curtain before the mask cracked just a little, rolling his shoulders, exhaling like the weight of the entire industry had been sitting on his chest. Ezra pulled out his phone, already disengaged, scrolling with the kind of absent stare that only exhaustion could cause.
Theo was talking to one of their managers in hushed tones, probably about finances again, while Jaden was silent, tugging at the hem of his jacket like he was mentally somewhere else entirely.
Riley was still grinning, but it wasn’t real—just muscle memory at this point.
And then there was the executive.
A man in his mid-forties, sharply dressed, radiating corporate polish.
He was standing with the PR team, nodding in approval.
"Good work, boys. The energy was right. We’ll tweak the interview edits, remove any moments that look too stiff, maybe throw in some exclusive behind-the-scenes clips for engagement. "
"Fine," Dominic muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
The executive’s expression tightened slightly as his gaze flickered over them. "You might want to be more conscious of how tired you look, though. It’s important that you don’t let it show."
The casual dismissiveness of the statement made something in me snap.
I stepped forward before I could stop myself, crossing my arms. "Or—hear me out—you could let people see that they’re human instead of pretending they’re machines."
The conversation froze.
The PR team turned, clearly not expecting me to speak. Theo raised an eyebrow, Jaden finally glanced up, and Riley let out a low whistle. "Ohhh, this just got interesting."
The executive blinked, looking at me like I was some clueless outsider who didn’t understand how the industry worked. "And why would we do that?"
"Because maybe people don’t need the illusion of perfection as much as you think they do," I shot back. "Maybe they need something real. Maybe seeing someone like them, someone exhausted and struggling but still pushing forward, would inspire them more than some fake, curated version of success."
Silence.
Then Dominic turned to me, arms crossed, expression unreadable. "And what happens when they stop believing in the dream?"
I met his gaze. "Then maybe it wasn’t a dream to begin with. Maybe it was just a lie."
The tension shifted.
Dominic held my stare, something sharp and unreadable flickering in his eyes. The PR team looked vaguely uncomfortable, the executive sighing like he was too tired to deal with this kind of debate.
"Look," the man finally said, rubbing his temples. "I get what you’re saying. But let’s be honest—no one pays to see artists complain about how hard their lives are. People want an escape. They want something bigger than reality."
"So you want them to pretend," I said flatly.
The executive didn’t even hesitate. "That’s what sells."
I clenched my jaw.
"She’s not wrong, though," Ezra suddenly said, surprising everyone. He leaned back against the wall, tucking his phone into his pocket. "I mean, we already know this isn’t sustainable. What’s the worst that happens if we just… stop pretending so much?"
Theo sighed. "We lose endorsements, for one."
Riley shrugged. "Or maybe we gain better ones."
Dominic didn’t react. He was still watching me, like I was a puzzle he hadn’t figured out yet.
"Either way, it’s something to think about," Ezra said, standing straight again. "And for the record, I’m exhausted, so screw the illusion."
Jaden didn’t say anything, but the slight nod of his head told me he agreed more than he let on.
The PR team hated every second of this conversation.
Dominic finally let out a quiet exhale, running a hand through his hair before giving the executive a look. "We’ll talk about it later."
The older man hesitated before nodding. "Fine. But just remember—you’re here because people believe in what you’re selling. Once that belief fades, so does everything else."
The moment he walked off, the tension in the room lessened, but it didn’t disappear.
Dominic glanced at me again, but he didn’t say anything before following after the rest of the group.
But I knew the conversation wasn’t over.
It happened later that night.
I was walking down the hallway, heading toward my room, when I felt it—the unmistakable feeling of someone watching me.
I turned the corner, and there he was.
Dominic.
Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
"You really like causing problems, don’t you?" His voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it.
I stopped a few feet away, mirroring his stance. "Only when I think they’re worth causing."
His lips curled slightly, but there was no humor in it. "You don’t get it, Dauntless. This world doesn’t forgive flaws."
I exhaled slowly, meeting his gaze. "Then maybe it’s time to stop caring what it forgives."
The air between us shifted.
Dominic didn’t move. Neither did I.
It was a challenge, the weight of something unspoken pressing between us. He was always so controlled, so effortlessly unreadable, but right now? Right now, there was something else in his eyes—something sharp, something dangerous, something that told me he was really listening.
I expected him to have a comeback.
Dominic always had a response.
A smirk, a sharp remark, something to remind me that he was always one step ahead.
But this time?
He just watched me.
Like I was a problem he couldn’t solve.