There were plenty of empty hallways and adjacent rooms near the gathering hall, some of them unlocked. Jane and Tristan found one such room. Judging by pieces of equipment lying in a corner, it was a music practice room.
As soon as they were alone, Jane stepped forward, closing some of the distance between herself and Tristan. Her radiant smile became even brighter.
She was a white lily wrapped in golden leaves. Pure beauty surrounded by luxury. Her entire appearance promised that to hold her elbow was not only a pleasure by itself, but a sign of status.
However, Tristan was indifferent to it all. To him, the lily's petals hid poisonous nectar.
Then Jane looked around and scrunched her nose slightly.
"This isn't the place I'd take for a private conversation. We should go somewhere else after this. Say... a restaurant. It will be my apology. And a date, if you want to."
Tristan tilted his head slightly, feigning thinking.
"Hm... No. I've decided that I will never even consider dating you."
He purposefully kept his tone light. Casual, even. As if he didn't care at all.
Jane staggered back, shocked.
"What?"
"Look, even the last moron would understand why, Jane. Even though you aren't very smart, I thought you could still get something as simple as that. But fine, I can explain."
Jane's face reddened with outrage. She was stunned speechless, and pinned to the spot by the force of Tristan's gaze and the audacity of his cruel words.
"First, no matter how much your parents paid for your plastic surgery, it only made you uglier. You will never look like anything else than a Photoshop-smooth fake. And why would I want to date a doll when I can just buy one?"
Each word was like a slap to Jane's face. She staggered back some more.
"That's right, I won't. Second, your singing career. It's pathetic. You couldn't even win more than the Audience Choice Award in a measly contest like the Californian Young Star's first round. Not even a third spot! You might as well abandon your ambitions and become a housewife.
And a rising star like myself can't date just any glory hound without prospects, even if she has rich parents. I'm sure you agree."
[Ding!]
Jane hid her face in her palms, and tears flowed down her cheeks, ruining her mascara.
"Impossible... Impossible! I—"
Suddenly, Jane reached out for Tristan, her eyes pleading.
"Please, delete these! Don't show anyone! If the public finds out, I will be ruined! My reputation!—"
Tristan scoffed.
"I don't care about your reputation. Or you. Pleasant, isn't it, when no one cares even a bit about you? Especially when you are already in some deep shit."
Jane sobbed, devastated and despaired.
The sight was intensely satisfying. The feeling was akin to nothing else.
Tristan stared at her some more, burning the sight of the crying woman in his memory.
He was interrupted by a buzz in his pocket. He tensed.
That pocket had his Hayes phone. And the only people calling or texting him on it would be gangsters.
The buzzing continued, so it wasn't a text message.
Cursing inwardly, Tristan spun on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving Jane to cry alone.
He marched toward another empty room, checked twice that there was no one around, and went inside. There, Tristan put on his earring and finally pulled his gangster phone out.
It was still calling, although by now it had two missing calls.
"Finally! Hayes, why did you take so long to reply?"
Pierce sounded very irked today.
"Ah, sorry, I was in the shower," Tristan lied smoothly. "What's wrong?"
"You are needed—immediately!" Pierce named an address. "There was—is!—an attack there. Go there, and at least track the perpetrators if you can't stop them in time!"