About Last Night (PAPERBACK)

Rule 1: Don’t take your safety for
granted

Brynn

Are you fucking kidding me? 

If I could punch my asshole ex through the phone, I one thousand percent would. 

“Oh no, he did not,” my hairstylist, Joy, said as she peered over my shoulder at the phone in my hand showing the latest entertainment news snippet about how my ex was torn up over our breakup. The same breakup that happened over three months ago because I caught him having sex with his massage therapist. 

And then that prick had the actual audacity to shout that it was just a “happy ending” like it was normal. 

We’d only dated for six months, and I was more embarrassed than upset, but then he had to go and act all heartbroken for the media and paint me as the villain. 

And I had to sit here and take it because if a woman stood up for herself—especially a woman as famous as I am then she’d be labeled an
attention-seeking bitch and painted as the villain anyway. 

I had too much to do to get ready for this upcoming tour, and I couldn’t waste time worrying about this. The press would say whatever they were
going to say. I’d learned that lesson a long time ago. It didn’t matter what the truth was. It mattered what would help them go viral on social media and
get comments. 

Unfortunately, tearing women down seemed to be the most effective tool to meet that goal. 

Sometimes the state of society was really depressing. I closed the social media app I’d been mindlessly scrolling while Joy worked her magic and stared at myself in the mirror. 

On the outside, I’d managed to maintain my polished look despite the increasing feelings of loneliness and exhaustion. I was tired of the grind. I was tired of being torn down for being successful. I was tired of not knowing if the men I dated actually gave a shit about me or were just using me for my fame so they could try to catapult themselves off my hard work. 

I was too young to feel this jaded. 

I was only twenty-five, but I’d been in this business since I was fifteen. I’d seen and experienced more than most people twice my age. The burden of fame that hung around my neck sometimes—more often lately—made me
feel ancient. 

Joy finished styling my hair and placed her delicate fingers on my shoulders. “What do you think?”

I smiled up at her, pleased that it actually reached my eyes this
time. “You’re the best in the biz for a reason. I love it. Thank you, Joy.”

She was a gem I’d found by accident and now used her exclusively for all styling and haircuts. I’d wanted to try a new style for the tour and came straight to her. I loved the way the cut framed my face, but I was glad she was coming with me on tour because there’d be no way I could duplicate the
actual styling without her. 

In another life, I was probably a plain Jane since I never would’ve looked half as put together as I did with the makeup and hair stylists on my payroll. 

I paid her usual rate, but tipped her extra because I never wanted to lose her. She left out the front door, and I watched her drive out until she rounded the bend that led to the front gate. The house itself was hidden from prying eyes by elaborate and beautiful trees and shrubs that I’d hired a whole gardening crew to maintain. 

But the privacy was all an illusion. I watched on the security feeds that streamed to my phone as she was faced with at least a dozen paparazzi and their obnoxious cameras. 

Switching out of the security app, I called my manager,
Stella. 

“Almost there! There was a bad accident that shut down half the freeway.”

“That’s okay. I was just calling to let you know there’s a crowd
at the gate. Just wanted you to be forewarned.”

She let out a low growl that had a small smile tugging at my lips.
“I swear to God, I could wring that sleazy little bastard’s neck for what he’s putting you through. This is ridiculous, Brynn. You don’t deserve their
harassment.”

I shrugged even though she couldn’t see me. “They’d harass me regardless. Him whining to the press, trying to make me out to be the bad guy,
has just given them a more exciting reason to harass me.”

I swore I could hear her frown over the phone. “This isn’t okay, Brynn.”

“It is what it is.”

What else could I say? This came with the territory of being one of the biggest celebrities in the world. If I could change it, I would. I often wondered if they ever thought about what life would be like if the roles were
reversed. If celebs started coming to their houses and camping out so they could snag a quick pic and spin it into something salacious. 

My phone buzzed with a text, and I pulled it away from my ear to see it was the gate guard telling me a package had just been delivered. 

“Can you grab the package that was just delivered at the front
gate on your way in?” I asked Stella.

“Sure thing. I’m about five minutes away.”

“Okay, see you soon.”

I ended the call and then walked out to my back patio. I lived a luxurious life. No one would have any clue how empty it sometimes felt. I
stared at the crystalline blue water in my pool and watched the water ripple from the cool breeze. It was soothing in a way, and I got lost in watching the gentle movement until I felt my phone buzz in my hand. 

I lifted it up and frowned when I saw a text from an unknown
number. 

I heard my front door open right as I opened the text, and all the
blood drained from my face. 

“Brynn!” Stella shouted, and the panic in her tone broke me out of my shock. 

I spun around to face her, and her face looked as pale as I
imagined mine did. She held a box in her hand that was open. 

“There was no sender address, and the gate guard said with all the chaos with the paps he didn’t see who actually dropped it off. I thought that
was strange, but then it started ringing and the guard opened it to make sure it wasn’t a bomb or something.”

She held the box out to me and I set my phone face down on the patio table. I took the box from her and set it down. There was a piece of plain white paper open on the top that had clearly caused Stella’s concern. The message was typed: I’M COMING FOR YOU. A cheap phone was beneath it, and it was already open displaying the text message and photo I’d just seen on my own phone. 

YOU’RE A STUPID SLUT WHO DESERVES EVERYTHING COMING TO YOU. 

The picture was of a very well done deepfake video of me bleeding to death. 

“Brynn, we need to hire better security. This psycho was at the gate!”

I stared at the video playing on repeat. It was short, probably
only five seconds, but it played on a loop. I’d had stalkers before—no one got
to my level of fame without them—but never this deranged. 

Never this violent. 

Stella was talking, but I couldn’t hear her over the whooshing in
my ears as I stared down at the too realistic video of my death. 

I’d kept my composure while my name was being dragged through the mud by my ex and through all the times people had come at me because of my
success.

But this…

This was too much. 

For the first time in a long time, I felt fear for my safety and
wondered if this life—the music, the fame, the constant scrutiny—was worth
it.