Part 2Headliner: Rich, Single, and Obsessed

Unsurprisingly, once Ethan got the Peroni endorsement deal, Tyler, having heard the news, couldn't sit still.

I wasn't taking his calls.

So, he did what any desperate Z-list celebrity does: he posted a notes-app, tear-jerking essay on Twitter.

It was the same exact script he tried on me.

He claimed the girl was a crazed stalker, purely delusional. He insisted there was no actual relationship, and the photos were fake.

The girl, furious at being painted as a lunatic, went nuclear.

She immediately leaked the explicit, intimate photos.

Then she leaked audio recordings of Tyler attempting to negotiate a cash settlement to make her disappear.

Listening to it, I actually felt a moment of pity for Tyler. Truly, he was a massive, drooling idiot.

While Tyler was busy destroying his own life with his private dramas, he stopped bothering me.

But, getting over a celebrity obsession is oddly similar to a breakup.

Even though I never loved Tyler romantically, I had invested real time, emotion, and hard work into him.

Without an idol to promote, I was stuck at home at night, completely bored. Life suddenly felt flat.

Then, out of the blue, I got a call from an unknown number.

"Hello? This is Ethan Reed."

His voice was deep, resonant—completely different from Tyler’s always-on, high-energy persona.

It took me a second to figure out who he was.

"Can I help you, Ethan?"

"My agent told me about the endorsement deal. Peroni. I just wanted to call and say thank you."

"Oh, it's fine. It was nothing."

Actually, that deal had taken a significant amount of my time and leverage to secure, but that didn't matter now.

Ethan was clearly not the charming, talkative type.

After I spoke, silence stretched over the line. Only the faint static of the connection remained.

I hate awkward silences and was about to hang up when he spoke again.

"I have a showcase gig this Saturday at a small festival. I'm singing a song. Would you... be willing to come watch?"

That was a lot to ask of someone who wasn't actually a fan.

I was about to reject him when he said, "If you don't have time, it's okay. Honestly, I'm used to playing to an empty room."

That was a low blow. He totally manipulated my nurturing instinct.

"I have time," I said, suppressing a sigh. "I'll be there."

He let out a huge breath on the other end, sounding totally relieved. "Thank you."

After hanging up, I immediately regretted it.

It was going to be so hot this Saturday... whatever. It’s not like I haven’t done this before.

I'd act as his personal photographer, get some high-quality headshots, edit them, and post them online. Think of it as his payment for helping me get revenge on Tyler.