Chapter 22

As soon as Caden finished speaking, Gerry's eyes snapped open. He took a few seconds to register Caden's presence. Eyes wide, Gerry removed his headphones and asked, confused, "When did you get here?"

"Right now, actually."

Caden had arrived late; Alicia had already finished recording. There was no chance of a retake. Not that it mattered; Caden wasn't particularly interested in music. He was there for fun.

But Gerry's reaction was unexpected. "It's exactly as I imagined—better, even. No wonder he rivals you. He's incredibly talented, Caden."

Intrigued, Caden studied him. Gerry, rarely impressed by other artists, seemed unusually enthusiastic.

"Oh, yeah?" Caden replied nonchalantly. "I guess I'm going to lose our bet."

"You better start preparing for the handover," Gerry joked, smirking as he passed Caden the lyric sheet. "Don't worry about missing the recording. Check these lyrics out. Maybe you can learn something."

Caden scanned the page, then sighed, raising an eyebrow. "I thought your movie was about Transformers fighting zombies. Why are the lyrics so… heartfelt?"

Gerry's mood shifted instantly. His eyes narrowed. "Zombies? Really? It's a heartwarming sci-fi film. Didn't I send you a copy? Haven't you seen it?"

"Oh, I don't watch cartoons," Caden replied nonchalantly.

"Cartoons?" Gerry snapped. "It's 3D animation! Not a cartoon! I spent a fortune."

At that moment, Alicia emerged from the recording booth. Caden looked up, captivated by the soft glow illuminating his face. He looked like an angel.

Alicia discreetly rubbed her aching back. "Mr. Hopkins, let's wrap up. Contact me if anything arises."

Gerry checked his watch. "Actually, I've booked a table at an exclusive rooftop restaurant downtown. Would you care to join us for dinner, Alicia?"

She hesitated, discomfort fleeting across her features. Declining would be unwise, however, so she reluctantly agreed.

The restaurant was a thirty-minute drive away. Gerry took the passenger seat; Alicia and Caden shared the back, gravitating towards their respective windows, a significant space separating them.

Gerry, ever optimistic, browsed property listings, showing Caden some expensive, hard-to-find homes. "What do you think of this one?"

Caden looked at the photos with disdain. "Why don't you just go for the White House?"

"If I could get it, I would," Gerry joked. More photos followed.

"Pick one," Gerry said, unconcerned.

Caden smirked slightly. "Careful. Don't count your chickens."

Alicia shifted, catching Caden's attention. He turned, his gaze sharp. She stiffened, feigning interest in the scenery. Her hair partially obscured her face, but Caden noticed her furrowed brows.

He remained silent, his gaze lingering before returning to the conversation.

Upon arrival, Caden and Gerry exited quickly. Alicia remained seated. "Mr. Hopkins," she said with an apologetic smile, "I need to touch up my makeup."

Gerry, understanding women's concerns about appearance, agreed. "Take your time. Tell the concierge to send you up. Use my name."

"Thank you."

Caden glanced at Gerry before heading inside. Gerry strolled casually, recounting showbiz gossip.

Suddenly, Caden stopped. "Wait, I think I left my phone in the car. Go on ahead. I'll catch up."

Gerry raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, casting a suspicious glance at the car. His eyes narrowed. "What are you up to?"

Caden barely glanced at him, too indifferent to respond.

Inside the car, Alicia panicked. She frantically dabbed at a blood stain on her trousers—an unexpected period. Between her hectic schedule and stress, she'd neglected it… until now.

The stain spread, soaking into Gerry's expensive leather seats. Each dab felt like a drain on her meager savings. How much would this cost?

As she cleaned, the car door clicked open. Alicia froze. Caden's eyes met hers. . . .