Page 76 of Rockstar's Accidental Marriage

Exhaling, I am grateful for his support—but a lingering unease settles in my chest. The night was a success, but the questions remain.

Who’s trying to undermine me and hurt the band? And why?

Twenty-Four

Sam

We’re finally back home in Jacksonville and just finished unloading our stuff from the bus. The rest of the band members have already scattered. Making the most of our brief downtime.

Emily’s sitting across from me in the studio, her fingers tightly wrapped around her teacup, staring into it like it holds the answers, but I know better. This isn’t something tea can solve.

“We need to tell Cass,” I say again, my voice steady even though I feel my patience is hanging by a thread.

She glances up, her eyes meeting mine briefly before darting away. “Sam, we don’t have proof. What are we even going to tell him? That we think someone’s out to sabotage the band but have no idea who it is or why they’re doing it?”

“Yes,” I say bluntly, leaning forward. “That’s exactly what we tell him. He needs to know.”

She exhales sharply. “And what if we’re wrong? What if it’s just a string of bad luck, and we’re overreacting?”

I shake my head, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “And what if we’re not wrong? Emily, this isn’t just bad luck. The sound system failure, the busted amp, the pyrotechnics—it’s too much. And what about the way that the venue manager talked to you last night? That didn’t come out of nowhere. Someone’s feeding these people garbage about you and the band.”

Her jaw tightens, and for a moment, I think she’s going to refuse stubbornly. But then she looks away, her shoulders slumping slightly.

I push my chair back, the legs scraping softly against the floor. “Look,” I say, softening my tone, “I know you don’t want to make this a bigger deal than it already feels. But If someone’s targeting you—or us—we need to stop them before they do real damage.”

Her gaze flicks back to me, hesitant but thoughtful. “Do you think they’re after me?”

I shrug. “Maybe. That venue manager wasn’t just rude; he was dismissive. He acted like you didn’t belong, like you were some kind of liability. And let’s be honest—he didn’t pull that attitude out of thin air.”

Emily sighs, her fingers tapping lightly against the ceramic rim of her cup. “But Cass has so much on his plate already.”

“Cass can handle it,” I say firmly. “And he’d want to know. He trusts you, Emily. He hired you because you’re the best person for this job. Don’t let some jerk with a chip on his shoulder make you doubt that.”

For a long moment, she doesn’t respond, and I can see the gears turning in her head. Finally, she nods, her shoulders straightening as she sets the teacup on the table. “Okay,” she says quietly. “Let’s tell him.”

I stand, holding out a hand to her. “Now?”

“Now,” she says, her voice firmer this time.

Cass is in the kitchen when we find him. He looks up with a grin as we enter.

“Hey, what’s up?” he says, setting down the beer he pulled from the fridge and sitting at the table.

Emily glances at me, and I give her a small nod.

“We need to talk to you,” she says, stepping forward.

Cass’s grin fades slightly, his brows furrowing. “This sounds serious.”

“It might be,” I say, crossing my arms as I lean against the doorframe. “We’ve noticed some... issues over the past few shows. Things that don’t feel like coincidences.”

Cass sits up straighter, his expression sharpening. “What kind of issues?”

Emily launches into a rundown of everything that’s happened. She explains how the equipment was checked before each performance and how these problems still managed to crop up at the worst possible moments.

Cass listens intently, his gaze flicking between the two of us. When Emily finishes, he leans back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “And you think someone’s behind this?”

“We don’t know for sure,” I admit. “But it feels off. And the way that venue manager treated Emily—someone’s been badmouthing her, Cass. That much is obvious.”

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