Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Grace
The penthouse was eerily quiet.
Usually, when I walked in, there was noise—music playing, laughter, the steady hum of conversation between the guys. But today, there was nothing. No movement. No sound. Just an unnatural stillness that immediately put me on edge.
I stepped further inside, scanning the room, then stopped when I spotted Riley sitting on the couch.
He was staring at his phone, completely still, his normally bright expression wiped clean. His posture was tense, shoulders hunched slightly forward, fingers gripping the edges of his phone so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.
I had never seen him like this.
"Riley?" My voice was calm, steady, but he didn’t react. He didn’t even blink.
I moved closer, my eyes flicking to the screen in his hand, and that’s when I saw it.
The headlines.
The trending topic.
The scandal.
Someone had leaked private messages—conversations Riley had sent to a friend, messages where he had talked about the pressure of fame, the exhaustion, the loneliness, the burnout. And now, the internet was tearing him apart for it.
I skimmed the comments, the ones flashing across his screen, the ones he was reading over and over again, even though I could already tell they were poison.
"You’re rich. Stop complaining."
"If you hate it so much, then quit."
"Ungrateful. Millions of people would kill for what you have."
"Wow. Acting like a victim when he gets paid millions? What a joke."
"Maybe he should just leave DreamCrest. No one would care."
The words weren’t just cruel—they were designed to cut deep.
Riley let out a soft laugh, but it was wrong. Forced. Hollow.
"Guess I’m the villain today," he murmured, still staring at the screen.
I felt something cold settle in my chest. "You shouldn’t be reading that."
"Yeah?" His lips curled slightly, but there was no real amusement behind it. "Kinda hard to ignore when the whole world is talking about you."
I clenched my jaw. "They don’t know you."
He finally looked up at me, and for the first time, I saw just how tired he was. His usual playful, flirtatious energy was gone, stripped away like a mask that had finally cracked.
"Doesn’t matter," he said, voice quiet. "They think they do. And that’s enough."
I hated this. Hated how casual he sounded about it. Like this was just another part of the job. Like this was something he had already accepted as inevitable.
Before I could say anything else, the penthouse door swung open, and Dominic walked in, his expression like a storm barely held in check.
He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t waste time with questions. He grabbed Riley’s phone right out of his hand and locked the screen.
"Enough," he said sharply.
Riley huffed but didn’t fight him. He just leaned back into the couch, pressing his palms over his eyes, exhaling slowly.
Dominic turned to me. "How bad is it?"
"Bad," I answered honestly. "It’s everywhere."
Dominic inhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw flexing. He was already moving, pulling out his own phone, already handling it.
I watched as he sent rapid-fire texts, making calls, speaking in low, clipped tones. I couldn’t hear everything, but I caught enough. Damage control. Media response strategy. Statements being drafted. Calls being made.
And through it all, he never hesitated.
His voice was calm. Controlled. He knew exactly what to do.
I had seen Dominic perform under pressure before, but this was different. He wasn’t just leading a band. He was leading an empire.
And for the first time, I wondered how often he had to clean up messes like this.
How often he had to be the one who held it all together while the rest of the world tried to tear them apart.
After a while, he hung up and turned back to Riley. "It’s being handled."
Riley let out a low, humorless chuckle. "Oh, well, as long as it’s being handled."
Dominic’s expression didn’t change. "This will pass."
Riley’s jaw clenched. "Yeah? And what about the next time? And the time after that?"
Dominic didn’t answer right away. He just looked at him for a long moment before finally saying, "We don’t let it get to us."
Riley laughed again, but it was more of a broken sound than anything else. "Right. Because that’s easy."
Dominic sat down across from him, resting his elbows on his knees. "You knew what this was when we started."
Riley’s expression flickered. "Doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck."
Dominic exhaled through his nose. "We take the good with the bad."
Riley stared at him, something unreadable in his gaze. Then he scoffed, shaking his head. "You make it sound so simple."
"It’s not," Dominic admitted. "But if we let it break us, we don’t survive."
Survive.
That word stuck with me.
Because that’s what this was, wasn’t it?
Not just fame. Not just music.
It was survival.
I watched Riley, the way his hand subtly trembled when he ran his fingers through his hair. The way he kept tapping his foot like he couldn’t sit still, like his body was buzzing with too much nervous energy.
He would never admit how much this was affecting him.
Not in front of Dominic. Not in front of anyone.
So I didn’t push.
I just stood there as Dominic continued handling it, as Riley sat there, pretending it didn’t hurt as much as it did.
And when the conversation finally died down, when Dominic left to take another call, when the night finally settled and the penthouse was quiet again, I still couldn’t shake the feeling in my chest.
Much later, when everyone had retreated to their rooms, I passed by Riley’s door. The light was still on. I paused, debating whether to knock, but then I heard it.
The uneven breathing.
The quiet, shaky inhales.
The sound of someone trying to hold themselves together when no one was watching.
I turned away, leaving him to his silence.
He wasn’t untouchable.
None of them were.