I Walked Away And He Lost His Mind (Zephyra and Steven) novel Chapter 325

Thank God I’d made that extra cash this morning. Otherwise, coming up with this kind of investment would have been a real challenge.

While I waited, I overheard snippets of conversation from outside the conference room.

“Horace has dragged us all down with him, and someone’s still trying to save him? Like his life is the only one that matters. What about our time? Why should the entire competition be put on hold for him?”

“Come on, man. The showrunners didn’t even kick him out after something this huge. It’s obvious he’s got deep pockets. You don’t want to mess with that.”

“You’ve got it wrong. That woman in the conference room isn’t his family. She’s the sugar mama who’s been bankrolling him. She’s the one who paid for all that marketing that made him so popular. I mean, he’s just a rookie. And now she’s throwing more money at the show to keep him in. She’s paving the way for him.”

“No way, seriously? Then what’s the point of competing? The title is basically his. That’s disgusting. Those rich old ladies are all, like, forty or fifty and look like pigs. I can’t believe he’d sleep with someone like that.”

A wave of derisive laughter followed.

My expression didn’t change. I sneezed a few times, feeling a little under the weather, but I wasn’t bothered by my new reputation as a cougar.

There was gossip in every workplace. The higher the stakes, the more vicious the rumors. In a cutthroat industry like entertainment, where you could become a star overnight, the backstabbing was even more intense.

Suddenly, the chatter outside fell silent, replaced by a man’s deep, clear voice.

“Is this how you manage your talent?”

“Mr. Lopez, I’m so sorry,” Fiona’s sharp, scolding voice cut in. “Instead of gossiping like a bunch of old women, you should be training. Or would you all prefer to withdraw from the competition?”

The men who had been talking quickly apologized and scurried away.

A moment later, the conference room door opened, and a handsome man walked in. He had deep-set features and wore a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. His charming eyes seemed to hold a deep affection for whomever they looked upon, but a closer glance revealed they were completely devoid of warmth. In his left hand, he carried a small gift box.

I felt a strange sense of familiarity.

“Ms. Jones,” Fiona said formally, “this is our show’s executive producer, Mr. Lopez. You can discuss any further questions with him.”

She placed a file on the table, then turned and left, closing the door behind her.

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