"Stop!"
Kylie slammed the hotel door open, bottle raised, lights slicing through the room.
"You think you can cheat her and walk out smiling?" she shouted.
The man on the sofa blinked, a wine stain spreading across his shirt. He was not expecting an accusation dressed in a ripped denim jacket and a bruised confidence.
"Who the hell are you?" he snapped, trying to stand.
"I'm who you don't get to humiliate," Kylie said. She took a step forward and held the bottle closer to the side of his head, not swinging, just pressing the fact of it against him.
Daniela's phone was up and rolling before the man could answer. "Say something hot, you jerk," she yelled. "We need content."
Kenna put a hand on Kylie’s arm. "Kylie, the cops—"
"Let them come," Kylie said. "Let them see."
The man pushed up from the sofa. "Hey, don't touch me. I'm with—"
"With what? With money? With influence? With the idea that you can trample people and pay for it later?" Kylie cut him off.
"You have no proof," he said.
Daniela leaned in, voice low and furious. "We have proof. Camera. Witness. You texting your friend, trying to buy silence. Brave move."
Kylie stepped closer. "Tell her it's over. Tell her the night is over. Tell her you lied."
He laughed, a thin sound. "You can't prove anything. People like me aren't held to your standards, sweetheart."
"People like me
