Part 7

Ira was greeted at The Rox by a line of imposing figures, all muscle and stern expressions, blocking her view from the SUV to the backstage entrance. She gave Tawan a sideways glance. "This is overkill, don't you think? We're four hours early. The parking lot is empty. There's nobody here but us."

"There are ten different vantage points where someone could take a clear shot at your head," Tawan said flatly, scanning from left to right as if she expected danger to leap out from the shadows.

She couldn't be serious. Then again, Ira reminded herself, Tawan was always serious. "You know, that's more than you've said to me in the last two weeks. I'm glad you finally figured out how words work."

"Keep moving," Tawan said, gesturing for Ira to step forward. Her face was set in its usual stony, no-nonsense expression. "Please."

Ira wiggled her fingers at the row of stoic bodyguards. "I hope you're all getting paid overtime for this. Be sure to check out the after-party. Drinks are on me and Kate. Tell them I sent you and have one for me, okay?"

A couple of them glanced at her briefly, but none of them cracked a smile.

She frowned. Clearly, she was losing her charm.

"This way, Ms. Suwannathat." Nene gently took her elbow.

"It's Ira, Nene. We've known each other for years. That hasn't changed. I don't care what she says." She immediately regretted the sharpness in her tone. Nene didn't deserve her irritation. She fell into step beside her. "She doesn't get to boss you around. You work for me, not her."

Nene opened the door for her with a calm smile. "We'll all feel better once you're inside, Ira. Please?"

"Fine. Because you asked." Ira stepped through the entrance.

The narrow hallway that led to the backstage area felt even smaller, crammed as it was with more guards. The tight space was suffocating and vaguely intimidating, despite Ira's best efforts to keep her cool.

She nudged Nene lightly. "Where did she find these people? Is there some kind of bodyguard cloning program on Shopee?"

Nene chuckled softly, but the sound was quickly drowned out by Tawan clearing her throat behind them.

Nene straightened and walked so stiffly that Ira thought it might take an entire warehouse of vasoline to get the pole out of her ass.

She shot a glare at Tawan. "You do realize this is supposed to be a fun thing, right?"

"For you. Yes." Tawan's tone was carefully neutral, but the underlying accusation in her words didn't escape Ira.

"It's hard to get amped up to entertain a crowd when everyone around you is determined to be a vortex of gloom," Ira countered.

"A professional wouldn't let anything stop them," Tawan said, her voice low but laced with a derision that Ira couldn't ignore.

Since Kate was probably done with the sound check by now, Ira made her way straight for the dressing room. Tawan and Nene clomped along on either side of her, their heavy footsteps making the hallways echo like a drumbeat. Ira started humming Taylor Swift's "Bad Blood" in time with their stomps, resisting the temptation to wave her arms like an imaginary orchestra conductor.

As they approached the dressing room, Kate and Maenisa stood by the open door, both watching their approach with distinct expressions—Ira could already feel the scrutiny.

"Great song choice, Ira," Kate said, her lips quirking with amusement. "Hey, Nene. Tawan."

Maenisa's gaze was harder, pinning Ira with a silent warning.

"Kate," Nene greeted with a slight nod, her posture stiff. She immediately positioned herself against the wall opposite the dressing room door, scanning the hallway.

"The room is clear," Maenisa said.

"Heard," Tawan replied.

Ira exchanged an exasperated look with Kate. "Am I imagining things, or are they having an entire conversation about me and my life choices using only one-syllable words?"

"Don't worry about it." Kate waved her over. "Sound check went smooth. I replaced the bumpy mic. Shouldn't have any more glitches with it, but if you do, we have another on standby."

"Oh good." Ira wrapped her arms around Kate and squeezed a little longer than necessary. It felt so good to see a friendly face that she didn't want to let go. "Sorry I wasn't here to help. Someone wanted to limit my so-called exposure."

She flashed a dirty look at Tawan, who was giving instructions to a small brute squad clustered around her.

The showrunner, a petite woman in black jeans, a black shirt, and a headset, caught sight of Ira, her face lighting up. "Oh good, you're here. Three hours, thirty minutes to curtain, you two."

"Thanks, Noi." Ira glanced at the open door to the dressing room. "Do we get to change without supervision, or is my warden coming with us?"

"I am covering the inside," Maenisa said, deadpan.

"It was a joke," Ira said wryly. "We don't need a babysitter."

"She's not a babysitter," Kate said with just a touch of defensiveness. "She's the reason we can relax."

Maenisa gestured for Ira to go in. "I will not get in the way of your primping."

"Gee, your consideration is overwhelming." Was it her imagination, or did Maenisa almost grin at that?

Kate glanced down at her phone. "Go on in. I'll be right behind you. I just want to answer this post."

"Okay." Ira hesitated. The last time she'd been in a dressing room, there'd been two dozen roses, a crazy letter, and a sudden life change waiting for her.

She knew nothing would be in there now. Maenisa had declared it clear, and Ira knew from experience that Maenisa wouldn't say that if she hadn't made damn sure it was true. The woman may not like her, but she'd never let personal feelings get in the way of her job.

Come to think of it, Tawan had said something similar. She'd made it sound like she often had to work with people she didn't like or agree with.

People like her. Celebrities.

Ira glanced at Maenisa. "You know, your job actually kind of sucks, doesn't it?"

"No," Maenisa said. "It does not. People sometimes do."

Ira looked at Tawan. She caught her warden's gaze and raised her eyebrows. Tawan looked back at her, unimpressed. Ira quickly looked away. "Sorry if I've been one of them."

Maenisa gave her a considering look. "Are you standing out here in the hallway for some purpose? You may enter. There is nothing in there that should not be there. I will remain here through the show to ensure there are no surprises."

"Thanks." Ira flashed a small smile at Maenisa but couldn't seem to make her feet move.

"Ira?" Kate put a soft hand on her shoulder.

Ira tucked her arm around Kate's and clung to her. "I swear there's more security than fans tonight."

Kate gave her a reassuring squeeze. "I doubt that. But I have to admit it's getting a little crowded back here."

They stepped through the doorway and into the dressing room together. Maenisa followed them in and moved to a corner opposite the door, where she could lurk like a guard dog—or a disapproving parent on prom night.

Ira gave the entire place a casual sweep with her eyes.

Their costume changes were on the rack like always.

The vanities were set up with their makeup kits and hair styling tools.

No roses.

No note.

A little sigh of relief escaped Ira's lips, and the knots in her stomach began to unwind.

"You okay?" Kate asked under her breath.

"Yeah. Let's do this." Ira shut the door behind them, leaving Tawan and her nerves on the outside.

Four hours later, Ira waited behind the curtain at the steps leading up to the stage for Kate to finish hyping up the crowd. The anticipation and excitement that always surged before a performance had been slow to build tonight. She bounced on her tiptoes, trying to coax her energy level where it needed to be.

She was as ready to see her fans as they were to see her, but her body didn't seem to realize that. Something felt...off.

"You know who's here, right?" Kate asked the crowd in a teasing tone.

"Ira! Ira! Ira!" the audience chanted in unison.

Ira glanced to her left. Tawan stood at the bottom of the steps, her gaze sharp and unwavering.

That was it, Ira realized. That was why she was having such a hard time getting into the mood tonight. Tawan was just...there. Radiating disapproval and hyper-awareness like a dark cloud. A walking, talking reminder of everything that had happened in the dressing room.

She hated that Tawan could make her feel so paranoid with just a glance.

Ira closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to shut out the weight of that burning stare. She needed to give her full attention to her music and her fans, not the woman who seemed to be monitoring her every move.

"You want her, you got her!" Kate shouted into the microphone. "Everybody say hey to my sister, Ira!"

The background music swelled, signaling her cue.

Ira opened her eyes, slapped on her brightest smile, and dashed onto the stage. She waved madly at the crowd. "Hello, Bangkok! How's it going tonight?"

The music surged into the first song, and she gathered her breath to sing the opening verse. The audience joined in enthusiastically, and together, they rode the energy of the moment.

To her right, Nene guarded the stage steps like always. Usually, Nene's head would bob subtly to the beat while she scanned the crowd.

Tonight, Nene's head didn't move at all.

Ira glanced to the left.

Tawan was still there, still watching.

She stood in her signature dark suit, feet planted firmly apart, arms crossed like a statue. If she'd had sunglasses on, she could have been the embodiment of every stoic security agent in a thriller movie.

But it wasn't just her posture—it was her stare.

Tawan's gaze followed Ira wherever she went on stage. Thousands of people screamed Ira's name, their faces lit with joy and excitement. Yet none of them looked at her the way Tawan did—with an intensity so sharp it felt like being dissected.

It made Ira feel naked. Exposed. Self-conscious.

She danced to the far side of the stage and lingered there longer than necessary. Kate shot her a confused look before grabbing her arm and guiding her back to center stage.

By the second song, Ira threw herself into the performance with reckless abandon, hyping up the crowd until she was breathless. She hoped the energy would drown out the unease churning in her stomach.

But it didn't work.

Singing to the crowd had never felt like this before. Every smile, every cheering face made her wonder if one of them was the person who'd left the letter in her dressing room.

Kate wrapped an arm around Ira's shoulders during the chorus, giving her a look that said, What's going on with you? Ira forced herself to dial it back, refusing to look in Tawan's direction for the rest of the song.

But she could still feel it. The weight of Tawan's stare was a living thing, with teeth and claws that dug into her skin and refused to let go.

What if the stalker was here, somewhere in the crowd? What if he was planning something worse than roses and a note?

What if he was in the crowd?

What if they were right, and she was wrong? What if this guy was a lot more than just a fan?

Ira lost her breath, the beat, and her words for a half second. Disoriented, she glanced at Kate for a cue.

Kate gave her a quizzical look before smoothly taking the lead for the last verse.

Ira managed a half-smile of apology and shook off the gnawing sense that something bad was waiting. She couldn't give a good show if she was jumping at shadows.

She missed her mark for the bridge but picked it back up for the finish.

The crowd roared their appreciation. They hadn't noticed anything was wrong—or so she hoped.

Kate gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "My sister, Ira!"

Ira waved with both hands, forcing brightness into her voice. "Thank you! Be good to my sister, y'all! She rocks!"

The crowd chanted, "Kate rocks! Kate rocks!" as Ira left the stage.

Tawan and Nene immediately flanked her, escorting her offstage, past the dressing room, and down the hall. Before Ira could even catch her breath from that last high note, she was in the backseat of a waiting SUV with Tawan, while Nene climbed into an identical vehicle behind them. The convoy pulled away while the stadium still rocked with Kate's next set.

Nobody saw her leave.

Ira snapped her seatbelt into place and fumed.

Tawan hadn't even let her change clothes. She'd been rushed out of the building like an embarrassing secret. If Tawan could shove her into a box and ship her to some deserted island, she probably would.

She was high-handed, arrogant, and way out of line.

No. It was worse than that. Tawan had thrown her off. She'd spent the past few weeks making Ira feel small and paranoid, and Ira had screwed up the show because of it.

"Dammit." Ira smacked the seat next to her with a fist.

Tawan raised an eyebrow but didn't look at her.

Ira glared out the window, her reflection catching the sharp, stoic lines of Tawan's face. The ghostly image of her warden refused to leave her alone. All the frustration and pent-up energy she'd been swallowing for weeks boiled over.

"You arrogant, obnoxious asshole! You made me so freaking paranoid that it messed me up. I couldn't get your damn lectures out of my head. I couldn't focus. Tonight was the first time I ever gave a show less than my all, and I hate that feeling. I hate it even more than I hate sitting in that house day after day after day, and you know what? I'm done. I'm done with worrying about this, I'm done with pretending there's something wrong when there's not, and I'm done—absolutely, one-hundred-percent done—with you."

Her voice rose with every word until she was shouting. She was sure the driver and anyone in the cars next to them could hear her.

Silence filled the car as the city zipped past.

Tawan didn't respond. Didn't flinch. She sat there, staring straight ahead like a statue.

Ira turned to her, her anger blazing. "In case that wasn't clear, you're fired."

Tawan finally met her gaze, her eyes steady and unyielding. "With all due respect, Ms. Suwannathat, you're not my client."

"I don't care." Ira leaned forward, throwing her full force into the words. "I don't give a shit who hired you. I want you out of the house. Tonight. I'm leaving tomorrow, and you're not coming with me. I'm going to see Wisanu, and I don't care what you do as long as you're not anywhere near me."

Tawan's jaw tightened, the muscles flexing as if she were holding something back. "You realize that's what he wants, right?"

The low, gravelly tone pierced through the heat of Ira's anger, sending a chill through her chest.

"What?" Ira barked.

"He wants you to think you're safe so you let your guard down. Get back to your routine. Make it easy for him to infiltrate your life."

"Safe?" Ira let out a bitter laugh. "I've never felt unsafe on a stage until tonight.Youdid that. Not him. I couldn't even hit my marks. All I could think was, 'What if he's in the crowd?'"

Tawan's eyes hardened. "Good. You should be thinking that. Because it's a real risk. All it takes is determination and skill, and the guy stalking you has both, with a heavy dose of obsession. There's no amount of security that can stop someone willing to trade his life for yours. Crazy trumps prepared every single time."

"I couldn't do my job!" Tears stung Ira's eyes. "I'm nothing without it.

She looked as if she were chewing on rocks. Ira could see words building up, but she could also tell Tawan had no intention of saying them.

"For crying out loud, just spit it out." Ira made a rolling gesture with her hand. "What's the worst that could happen? You've already been fired."

Tawan waited so long to speak that Ira thought she might ignore her entirely, but finally, she took a slow breath. When she finally spoke, her voice was low and even, the tones of someone holding back a tide of emotion.

"Your job is what you do. Not who you are.Everyone is more than what they do. Even you." She looked away, her jaw tightening. "And even if you never sang again, your family would care—very much—if something happened to you."

Ira didn't miss the hitch in her voice when she said the word family. There was pain buried under the lecture, a hidden fracture that made Ira pause. She studied the side of Tawan's face, noting the tension that had spread from her jaw down to her shoulders and the strain around her brown eyes.

"Look, maybe..."

Tawan suddenly leaned forward, her attention snapping to the windshield as the SUV pulled up to the guard house at Kate's gate.

One of Kate's former security guards, a burly guy named Todd who usually had a cheerful disposition, poked his head out of the window and gave a nod. "Just a sec. Power to the gate shorted out. Have to move it by hand."

The driver glanced back at Tawan. "Should I get out and help?"

"No. Stay with her." Tawan shot Ira a warning look as she got out of the car. "Stay here. Lock the doors."

The door slammed shut, and Tawan strode over to Todd, her expression grim and purposeful.

She acted like they were about to be ambushed by a gang of criminals. It was ridiculous. That sort of thing didn't happen in this neighborhood. It was just a gate malfunction, surely.

Still, an uneasy ripple danced up Ira's spine, a chill that made her reach over and click the door lock.

The second SUV pulled up behind them, blocking the driveway from the street. Nene hopped out and jogged toward Tawan and Todd, her movements sharp and efficient.

The three of them huddled in the glow of the headlights.

Todd gestured toward the gate's control panel while Tawan pointed toward the pole. Ira couldn't make out their words through the glass, but she could sense the tension radiating from Tawan's clipped, deliberate movements.

Whatever was going on, Tawan didn't like it.

Tawan pulled out her phone and typed something quickly. Then she and Nene helped Todd push the heavy gate open manually. Once their SUV rolled through, Tawan and Nene stayed behind to secure the gate.

As the vehicle passed into the property, Ira glanced out the back window, her nerves prickling. "Josh, what's going on?"

"It's hinky." Josh's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, then he sped up slightly. "The gate's got battery backup. It shouldn't matter if the power went out. Something's not adding up. They'll figure it out, though."

"It's just a glitch," Ira said, shaking her head, trying to dismiss the tight knot forming in her chest. "No big deal."

"Maybe." Josh's tone said otherwise.

He dropped her off at the front door and waited until she stepped inside before driving off.

The moment she walked in, the smell of pepperoni and melted cheese greeted her. She followed the scent and found members of the night-shift security team gathered around three open pizza boxes in the kitchen.

"Oh my God, give me a slice. I'm starving," she said, her mouth watering.

"Hey, Ira," one of the guards greeted her. She didn't know his name, but she recognized the dimple in his chin and the easygoing sparkle in his eyes.

"Thanks for this, Ira," said another guard— she vaguely remembered as Toi, or maybe Troy. He held up a slice of pizza in salute. "Really made our night."

She blinked. "Uh... you're welcome?"

Strange. She hadn't sent the pizza. Maybe Kate had. Or...

Tawan?

No way. Tawan wasn't the type to do something that thoughtful.

Except for that one time she'd arranged for Wei to bring over ice cream.

The woman was a puzzle. One moment, Tawan could be thoughtful and almost kind. The next, she'd transform into an unyielding force of nature, ready to leap into action like a soldier in a war zone.

Ira shook her head, grabbed a slice of pizza, and tried to ignore the persistent knot of unease still twisting in her stomach.

It messed with her head. Tawan had killed the last show of the year for her. There was no excuse for that.

She'd meant what she'd said.

Tawan was fired, and she was going to Wisanu's. Tomorrow. She'd shoot her manager a text right now to get the plane ready.

Grabbing a piece of pizza and a napkin, she announced, "Good night, y'all."

A chorus of "Good night" followed her as she made her way down the hallway.

Her spirits lifted now that she had a plan. She nibbled on the pizza, thinking it through. First, she'd spend some quality time with Wisanu's. Two months, maybe. Until Ying's wedding—unless Ying was serious about moving the wedding until after the baby came. If she was, maybe Ira could hop over to Kate's next movie location for a bit. Was it Greece? Germany? Spain? That was it. Spain. Then she'd head back to the Chiang Mai when it was closer to baby time.

She reached her bedroom and paused. The door was closed.

She frowned at it. She always left it open when she wasn't in there.

A fresh prickle of unease tickled the back of her neck. First, the broken gate. Now, a closed door.

She snorted an impatient breath. She was getting as paranoid as Tawan. There was nothing wrong. The gate was old, and one of the security team probably shut the door while checking the room.

The security on this house was so tight it didn't let a crack of sunlight through. No way anyone could get in here without being spotted.

She pushed the door open and strode inside, taking another bite of pizza as she went.

Her gaze instinctively swept the room and snagged on something lying on the bed.

She drifted closer, not sure what she was looking at, until she spotted the rose.

The room blurred around her as her focus locked on the things that hadn't been there when she left. Several photos littered the middle of the bed, and a single red rose lay on her pillow next to a white envelope with "Ira" scrawled on it in black ink.

The bit of pizza she'd just eaten sank like a rock in her stomach.

If one of the security team had done this...

If it was a joke...

She stared at the envelope. It looked just like the one in the dressing room. Same size. Same color.

Her name wasn't written neatly. It was jagged and uneven, like someone had been in a hurry.

Or angry.

The slice of pizza hit the floor as goosebumps raced down the back of her neck.

She reached for the photo closest to her. It was a candid shot of her on Thirakorn's shoulders in the pool. He was looking up at her, and she was laughing.

She remembered that moment. Sorawit and his date had just wiped out going for the ball. She could still hear Thirakorn's rich, deep laugh. He had a warm, friendly smile that lit up his eyes and made her day a little brighter.

She couldn't see his smile in the photo.

Someone had obliterated it with angry black slashes across his face and hands where they rested on her thighs.

She checked the other photos. One showed Thirakorn standing on the deck. He faced the spot where they'd placed the DJ platform, but she couldn't totally be sure what he was looking at because most of his body had been scratched away, along with a lot of the background.

Was she in that one?

She studied it. No.

Her gaze traveled over the rest of the photos. She was in some of them, but most placed Thirakorn center stage, and all of them featured black slashes over his face and body.

As if someone had wanted to slice him into pieces or erase him from existence.

"Sweet Gods," Ira whispered, her voice trembling.

Why do this? Why leave a collection of destroyed pictures of a man she barely knew all over her bed?

Her gaze locked onto the envelope.

The rose rested against it—a deep, blood-red bloom against pale white paper. It was fresh and perfect, as though just picked, and the sharp thorns seemed to glint menacingly in the soft light.

Somewhere in the house, a door slammed. She flinched at the sound, her body jerking involuntarily. Still, she couldn't tear her eyes away from the envelope with her name scrawled on it.

Slowly, almost as though compelled by an unseen force, she reached for it.

The envelope wasn't sealed.

Her fingers trembled as she pulled out the letter inside. The text was printed, just like the last one, in a plain, neat font that stood in stark contrast to the slashed, erratic handwriting on the envelope.

She unfolded the paper and began to read, the chill in her veins turning from icy to arctic as the words pierced her soul.

Sweet Ira,

The flirting thing needs to stop.

I try to be understanding, I really do. I know how lonely you are. You long for me as I long for you, and it makes you act out.

I love your free spirit, and women are wired for entertaining. But when I saw your legs wrapped around him... I have to confess it made my blood boil.

The only person who should ever be between your legs is me.

The way he looked at you. The way he touched you.

Fondled you.

It's disgusting.

Your perfect match stood right there in front of you. We had a connection.

Then he got in the way and dazzled you.

Don't worry. He's been dealt with. He won't disrespect us like that again.

They locked you away. Hid you from me. But they can't keep my songbird caged forever.

I won't let them.

I'm everything you need and everything you will ever want. I struggle with your behavior, sweet thing, I really do.

When we're together, you'll see.

I am patient. I'm going to provide you with the perfect home. It's private and beautiful, and it's all for you.

We'll spend the rest of our lives there, together.

Not long now.

"Oh God. Oh God." The words fell from Ira's lips in a whispered chant, her voice breaking under the weight of rising panic. She slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the hysteria bubbling up in her chest, but all it did was turn her words into a low, desperate moan.

Her eyes darted back to the lines that felt like physical slaps to her face.

The way he looked at you.

Fondled you.

He's been dealt with.

He...

Her gaze flicked back to the photos scattered across her bed, the black slashes cutting through Thirakorn's face, his smile obliterated, his presence erased.

Thirakorn.

Thirakorn had been dealt with.

The realization hit her like a blow to the chest. Her throat constricted as guilt and fear swirled together, tangling with every breath. She tried to call for help, but her voice faltered, caught in the vise of her panic.

No. She wasn't going to let herself freeze.

She pulled in a deep, shuddering breath, drawing strength from years of singing to crowds, of commanding attention with just her voice. The force came from deep within, the kind of sound that carried to the farthest corner of a stadium.

"Tawan!"