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“She’s expecting you, Mr. James. You can go right in,” the receptionist said.

Tristan hadn’t expected anything different as he strolled to the elevator and took the elevator up to the fifth floor. Carol probably considered it a miracle that he showed up unannounced. When the doors opened, he was greeted by Grace, Carol’s assistant.

“Mr. James,” she said, visibly taken aback, gesturing him toward Carol’s office. “How are you?”

“Hm,” he grumbled before striding ahead.

Grace followed closely behind him. Carol was still on the phone but signaled to him with a raised hand that she would be with him shortly.

“Would you like something to drink, Mr. James? Water? Or a soda?”

“Soda sounds good,” he replied, suppressing his amusement at her nervousness as he settled into the chair in front of Carol’s imposing desk.

Grace placed an empty glass and a can of Canada Dry in front of him, smiling at him like a lovestruck fangirl, then left the room.

Tristan’s gaze wandered to the wall adorned with gold and platinum records and countless photos of the stars who had come and gone at this label over the past fifty years. Big names that had made music history.

“Okay,” Carol said. “The email has arrived. I’ll go through it with him right away. Yes. He’s sitting in front of me. Okay. Thanks. Talk to you soon.” Carol hung up the phone and leaned back in her chair—visibly relieved to see Tristan, but somehow also suspicious. “Tristan, how are you?”

“Would you believe me if I said I’m fine?”

“No.”

“Let’s just skip it.” Tristan cracked open the can, pouring the ginger ale into the glass and took a few sips. He was thirsty, having not had anything to drink since leaving home. “Was that the lawyer?”

“Yes. Dexter Evans. He’s already left for the weekend, but he just sent me the documents for the Frank Chelsea case. I assume that’s why you’re here.”

“Hm …” Tristan found it difficult to admit that he wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

Carol’s eyes were glued to the screen as she clicked the mouse and scrolled through a document. “Here it is. Chelsea is suing you for assault and battery and is seeking … $50,000 in damages.”

Tristan paused. “Do I even have that much?”

“Oh, Tristan, that’s the wrong question. After the tour, you’ll have much more than a measly $50,000.”

“Then he should get his money.”

“Wha-what did you just say?” Carol tore her gaze from the screen and stared at him with wide eyes and an open mouth. She then swallowed hard and composed herself. “That, my dear, is definitely the wrong attitude. I don’t even need to be a lawyer to know that. What’s wrong with you?”

Tristan shifted in his chair and nervously twisted his fingers together. Even though he could barely remember that day, not everything was lost in a dense fog. “There’s nothing wrong with me. The guy provoked me.”

Carol raised her eyebrows. “That doesn’t sound like you at all.”

Tristan sighed and shook his head. “This guy was wasted and kept bumping into me, so I asked him to chill out. And once he realized who I was, he started mouthing off. Called me an arrogant rock star. He acted like he knew me inside out, even though he hates our music. Started dissing my background too.”

“Oh no.” Carol probably guessed where this was going.

“He was drunk, and so was I. José had wanted to change bars ages ago, but then the guy called me a fucking Indian and said the one who killed my brother should get a medal. That triggered something in me.” Tristan shrugged, avoiding eye contact with Carol. He had always been somewhat conflict-averse, so he surprised himself with how quickly he had lost his temper.

“You were under tremendous stress,” Carol said gently.

“Maybe. But I did attack him. There’s no denying that.”

“You weren’t yourself.”

“He should get his money.”

“Let me … read the rest briefly. There are a few more pages, and Evans sent another email.” Turning back to the screen, Carol clicked her mouse and scrolled further. “Ah, so … Chelsea has now lowered it to $30,000. That was yesterday. Oh, he must have heard the news about your parents and now wants to show some goodwill.”