Meanwhile, tucked away near the far end of the red carpet behind a barricade of production staff and security, Kevin was unraveling.
He stood half-hidden in the shadows, suit jacket already creased from how many times he'd tugged at it. The flashing lights near the entrance reflected off the sheen of sweat gathering at his temple.
Anna was late. Not fashionably late. Strategically late.
Just… late.
After she had stormed out earlier, he hadn't been able to reach her. Every call went unanswered. Every message remained on read—or worse, not even delivered. The silence had gnawed at him for hours.
It was Betty who had stopped him from spiraling completely.
"Relax," she had said with far more composure than he possessed. "If Anna says she'll handle it, she will."
Kevin wanted to believe that.
He really did.
