The Nation's President Picked Me Up From Prison-Chapter 19: Elyn: The Winner

Everyone’s eyes fall on me.

Heather’s smile drops at once, while the girls at our table who had been rooting for her seconds ago switch to sugary grins and offer rehearsed congratulations.

I rise and walk to the stage. After accepting the award, I deliver my speech. Normally my manager handles these things like creating my speech, but tonight I want it simple. I keep it short and sincere, careful to avoid anything that might spark new questions.

I return to my seat with the crowd’s applause filling the hall.

Heather claps for me, smiling, but the bitterness in her eyes is unmistakable. She can’t hide it, not even when she tries.

"Wah, I really thought Heather would win," one girl at our table says. "But I’m happy for you, Elyn."

"Thanks."

I turn to Heather with a polite smile. "I hope you don’t mind me winning. I wouldn’t have minded if you won. So... you must feel the same, right?"

"Of course! Why would I mind? We’re friends!"

Friends.

Right.

After the awarding, the venue transforms into a party hall with music filling the room, drinks gliding through the crowd, everyone switching into celebration mode.

I enjoy parties. In this industry, avoiding them is almost impossible, so I eventually learned to like the chaos. I used to enjoy how everyone mingled, how friendly they all seemed.

But after everything that happened, I know better. People in this world are very good at pretending. They act sweet and warm, but underneath the beautiful masks, they’re constantly measuring each other, digging for flaws—anything they can exploit.

It’s sad, really, but it’s the truth.

A truth you have to swallow if you want to survive in the entertainment industry.

"Elyn!" someone calls while I’m chatting with a group of senior songwriters praising my work.

When I turn around, I instantly regret it. I should have kept pretending I didn’t hear.

"Finally! You showed up!"

Mr. Lim, my manager, beams as if he’s just found the diamond ring he lost last week.

My grip tightens around my champagne flute.

"Where have you been? I’ve been calling Dahlia but that chit won’t answer! I couldn’t visit you while you were detained because I was busy talking with the agency. They said they wanted to file a lawsuit for damaging their reputation, so I was negotiating and thinking of ways to help you! I was so stressed I almost got hospitalized for high blood pressure. But I’m so glad now—"

"I don’t blame you for not being there when my name got dragged into a scandal, Mr. Lim. You don’t have to apologize."

He talked with the agency because they wanted to file a lawsuit against me?

For damaging their reputation?

A ringing starts in my ears.

These people.

He’s acting clean now, after abandoning me first?

"The thing is, Mrs. Krayton wants to have a meeting with you. They’re willing to compensate you for their lack of action and revise the contract terms. What day works best for you?"

I can’t even pretend to smile. The audacity.

Did they really think I’d come running back like some stray cat waiting for its owner to whistle?

"My lawyer will handle my contract with the agency. For now, I’d like to enjoy the party and stop the work talk," I say, my tone polite but dismissive.

I don’t bother excusing myself. I turn away and head toward the dessert table.

I grab another drink after finishing my champagne. With the way my agency left me to drown during a crisis, I have more than enough grounds to end my contract. And if they refuse? I’m willing to pay the penalties just to cut ties.

The past weeks have been exhausting, but hitting rock bottom teaches you things.

One of them is knowing when to walk away from anything that no longer serves you.

Working with JZ Entertainment had its good years, but everything ends eventually. I’ve given them more than enough profit. They can consider it full payment for all the help they once offered.

"A criminal winning a prestigious award?"

When I heard a voice from behind, I turn and see Kayla. She’s an artist in my agency who always see me as her greatest rival.

Her bold red lipstick makes her smirk look even more venomous.

"Don’t you look ridiculous?" she drawls, swirling a glass of red wine.

Kayla’s been talking trash about me for years, but usually in places without an audience. Tonight, though? We’re surrounded by people in the industry. Not to mention, the press lurking at the corners. So I find this new.

Or maybe—judging by the way her wine sloshes in her glass—she’s simply had too much to drink to care.

"You should watch your alcohol tolerance," I mutter, not bothering to sound kind. She’s never offered me kindness anyway, so there’s no reason to return any.

"Shut up."

A few people nearby pause, eyes shifting toward us. The air tightens around the two of us, the way it always does when a storm is about to break.

"Kayla—"

"How did you do it?"

"What?"

"How did you get out of prison? You must have killed that poor man! And when your sister-in-law said you cheated, was that true? I’m sure it was! You must have used your charms to win that award!"

She’s spouting pure nonsense.

More eyes turn toward us, so I decide to walk away. I’m already stepping back when something cold splashes across my face.

It happens too fast for me to react. Only when the liquid drips down my chin do I realize she grabbed a drink from the table and threw it at me.

"That award was supposed to be mine! Why did you have to come back, huh? You should have stayed in prison! You’re a criminal!"

I stand frozen, a statue amid the shock around us.

Gasps ripple through the crowd. Whispered chatter swells.

So much for avoiding trouble.

"I’m not a criminal. I didn’t kill Logan," I say, my voice steady despite the burn in my throat.

Kayla laughs—a loud, unhinged sound.

"Maybe you didn’t. Maybe you did. Who the hell knows? But I’m sure you cheated on him with songwriter Michael Dawson!"

What?

Is she high on something?

Michael Dawson is our senior, a respected songwriter at the top of JZ Entertainment. He’s kind, yes, but we’ve never been close enough for a dating rumor. Where is she pulling this from?

"Hah! You think I didn’t know? We’re from the same agency," Kayla sneers, as if she’s unveiling some grand truth.

No one steps in to stop her. I guess some don’t want to get involve in the mess. While some stay are thrilled to witness a live scandal unfolding.

"He’s our senior and nothing more," I say, tightening my grip on my glass, imagining throwing it back at her.

But I refuse to stoop to her level. I’m better than that.

"I don’t think this conversation is going anywhere. You’re drunk, Kayla." I reach to set my glass on the table.

Kayla swats my hand and the glass slips, shattering across the floor. The sharp crack echoes through the hall. People step back while some yelp in surprise.

"You’re the waste here! You don’t deserve that award! It’s mine, you bitch!"

She looks like she’s about to strike me, but before she can, Jean and two other members of my security team close in around me. Their sudden appearance startles me because they were supposed to stay outside the hall.

Gasps and chatter suddenly fill the hall, their heads turning in one direction.

"Is that the President?!"