November 2006, Los Angeles, CA, USA
I stared at Rihanna in silence as she sat elegantly across from me. Her left leg was crossed over her right, her hands tightly gripping the arms of the sofa chair she occupied. Combined with her sleek ponytail, pink crop top, and denim shorts, she made for an incredibly alluring sight. The only thing I didn't like was the slight frown marring her face.
I had wanted to go over to her place right after the shoot, but she had texted me, saying she needed some space for the night. And that was why I was here now, the next day.
"Come on," she prodded. "Give me whatever bullshit excuse you've cooked up in your defense."
"I don't have an excuse because I don't need one," I said firmly. "I was doing my job. You knew that. You read the script."
Rihanna leaned forward, narrowing her eyes. "Did the script tell you to shove your tongue down her throat even after the director yelled 'cut' multiple times?"
"I didn't hear the 'cut,'" I said defensively. "I wasn't making out with her for fun—the director asked me to. And you know how serious I am about my acting. Honestly, you're making a mountain out of a molehill."
She didn't respond right away, letting the silence stretch between us, turning it colder. Her expression told me she wasn't satisfied with my explanation. And when she finally spoke, she proved me right.
"If you're so dedicated to your acting, would you fuck someone if the director asked for it?"
My patience was wearing thin. "What kind of argument is that!?"
"You tell me," Rihanna shot back. "For all I know, you could already be sleeping with her when I'm not around."
"Oh my God!" I shot to my feet in frustration. "You did not just say that!"
This was so out of character for Rihanna that I could hardly believe it was the same girl who once told me, in not-so-subtle terms, that she wouldn't mind if I slept around. If this were some magical fantasy world like [Harry Potter], I'd have checked if she was an impostor.
I turned to say something sharp, but I stopped myself at the last moment. Seeing her sitting there—calm, composed, yet undeniably hurt—made me rethink my words.
"There's just one thing I can say to you, Ri. Trust me," I said softly. "If I wanted to cheat on you, I could have. You gave me the approval, remember? But I didn't—because I love you. If you don't trust me, then we need to have a completely different conversation."
This time, she looked away. Guilt flashed across her face, but only for a moment before she masked it with her usual composure.
"I do trust you, Troy," she said. "But think of it from my perspective. Would you be okay with walking in on me kissing some other guy?"
"I wouldn't," I admitted. "But if it were for your job, I wouldn't call you a cheater either. In fact, if you had to shoot a scene like that, I wouldn't even visit the set without asking you first."
I moved closer and kneeled in front of her, taking one of her hands in mine. "How about this? We set a rule—whenever one of us has to shoot a scene like that, we tell the other when not to come on set."
Rihanna considered it for a moment before nodding slowly. "It could work."
I let out a sigh of relief I hadn't realized I was holding back.
But just as I thought we had reached an understanding, she shattered it.
"But," she said, cutting off my premature celebration, "I don't think that will be necessary."
I gave her a skeptical look. "Why?"
Her next words stunned me to my core.
"I want to announce our breakup."
I stared at her in confusion for a few moments, not sure if I heard her right. When she didn't speak further, I asked eloquently, "What?"
"You heard me," Rihanna said. "Listen, Troy, I love you—I really do. But you and I are worlds apart. You're so far ahead in your career that I don't think I'll catch up, not even in two decades. I don't want to be remembered as just your girlfriend for the rest of my life."
I had no words. I hadn't expected this at all.
"I don't actually want to break up with you," Rihanna clarified when I remained silent. "I just want to tell the world that we did—so they stop associating us together. I still want to see you in secret."
"That's a terrible idea," I said bluntly. "What are you going to say when they ask why you're moving to London next year?"
"That's why I was thinking… if you move here to LA, no one would question it because this is Hollywood," she countered. "It would be the perfect cover."
I shook my head. "I still have to shoot that TV series and the last [Harry Potter] in London. I have to go back sooner or later. This isn't sustainable in the long run."
Rihanna mulled it over for a few seconds. "When you're not filming in London, you could stay here, right? Why should I be the only one moving all the time for your career? Why can't you do the same for me?"
I studied her, and suddenly, something clicked.
"This was never about me kissing Scarlett, was it?" I asked, already knowing the answer. "You had this planned all along. Tell me—was this even your idea, or is someone influencing you? Your manager?"
The brief flash of guilt and panic on her face was barely noticeable—so quick that I almost hesitated to call her out on it.
"It's my idea!" she said haughtily, standing up and putting distance between us. "You don't have to give me an answer right now. Take a few days and think it over. For now, focus on today's rehearsals and the concert."
"Will you come?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.
She shook her head. "It's better if we stay away until you make your decision."
As I walked out of her apartment, one thought lingered—our relationship had changed drastically in just 24 hours.
(Break)
♪Our song is a slammin' screen door
Sneakin' out late, tappin' on your window
When we're on the phone and you talk real slow
'Cause it's late and your mama don't know
Our song is the way you laugh
The first date, "Man, I didn't kiss her and I should have"
And when I got home, 'fore I said "Amen"
Askin' God if he could play it again♪
The crowd was absolutely enthralled by the magic a teenage girl was creating live on stage with her country music.
"Wow," Gabriel Vazquez, my concert manager, muttered as he watched Taylor Swift command the audience with effortless charm. He then turned to me. "When you said you wanted her to open for you, I was skeptical. But now? I see what you saw in her. She's not the best vocalist, but she's already a superstar in the making."
When I didn't reply for a moment, Gabriel called out, "Troy?"
I looked at him, finally paying attention to him and asked, "Sorry, you were saying?"
When he repeated his words, I grinned. "I didn't see her. I just had a feeling—and I was right." Then, I turned to the third man standing beside us. "The real discovery was made by Scott here."
"Thank you," Scott Borchetta, the middle-aged man who had signed Taylor, said gratefully. "Taylor is a great singer."
"I agree." I nodded before casually asking, "Say, Scott, would you be willing to sell her contract along with her first album in its entirety to me?"
Borchetta's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"I'm serious," I said. "I see incredible potential in her. I can nurture her into the greatest."
"No." He shook his head firmly. "She's the first artist I signed. I'm not handing her over—not even for a million dollars."
Seeing the determination in his eyes, I knew he wouldn't be easy to persuade. But I wasn't one to give up so easily.
"How about two million, then?" I offered.
Scott opened and closed his mouth a few times, clearly not expecting that.
"Why?" he asked, baffled. "She's a new country singer, and her album's only done okay so far. At this rate, I wouldn't even make two million off of her for years."
"I'm impulsive like that," I said, turning my attention back to the stage, where Taylor had just finished her song and was now introducing me.
"Thank you so much!" Taylor said brightly to the crowd. "The wait is finally over for the person you really came here to see. Please welcome the greatest superstar in the world—and my good friend—Troy Armitage!"
I grinned at that introduction before glancing at Borchetta one last time. "I'll have someone contact you to finalize the deal in a few days."
"But I never—"
I didn't stick around to hear him out. Instead, I walked onto the stage, greeted by the wild reaction I had grown accustomed to over the past two months.
Scott Borchetta never agreed to sell Taylor's contract to me. That's what he was telling me backstage. But one way or another, I would make it happen.
Not out of greed—I was already a billionaire. Whatever money I'd earn from Taylor wouldn't be enough to justify diving into the recording business for other people.
No, the real reason was different. In the original timeline, Taylor had a brutal fight with her label over the ownership of the songs she created. The idea that a company could do that to one of the greatest singer-songwriters of the 21st century was agonizing.
As a Swiftie, If I could prevent it by paying a few million now, I would.
Of course, Scott had no idea that Taylor would recoup that two million faster than anyone could imagine.
(Break)
"Thank you, Los Angeles, for being so welcoming to me!" I said jovially into the mic as my concert came to an end. As expected, the crowd went wild. I patiently waited for them to calm down before continuing.
"These last two months of performing here have been incredible, and I can't wait to be back after the break I'm taking to promote my upcoming movie, [Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix]."
The Potterheads in the audience erupted at that announcement.
"Make sure to watch it in theaters—it's one of the best films of the series we've made so far."
With that, I waved at the crowd one last time before heading backstage.
The moment I stepped out of the spotlight, my jovial demeanor faded, replaced by the indecision that had plagued me since morning.
"Are you okay?" Benji asked hesitantly as I sank onto the couch in my dressing room.
"No thanks to you," I muttered, still irritated about his role in yesterday's disaster with Rihanna.
"I said I was sorry," he groaned for what felt like the hundredth time. "I'm a terrible liar, and she immediately knew something was off."
"That was exactly the problem," I said pointedly. "If you had just told her the truth, she wouldn't have suspected anything and might've even stayed behind like you asked. But because of your behavior, she thinks I told you to lie to her."
"I'll tell her the truth," Benji insisted.
"Don't," I said firmly. "Let it go. Just make sure you don't pull something like that again."
He nodded, though hesitation was clear in his expression.
Deciding to change the subject, I asked, "So, where's today's batch of fans I need to meet?"
"You still want to meet them?" Benji looked surprised. "I thought you'd be too exhausted after… everything. We can reschedule—I'm sure they'd understand."
I smiled. "You're still new to this, Benji, so let me remind you—I'm where I am today because of my fans. Some of these people have been waiting for this moment for months. Some paid insane amounts for tickets. Some traveled across the world just to see me. Sure, my day hasn't been great, but if I can make someone else's day, it's worth it. Besides," I smirked, "you did meet me at one of these meet-and-greets, didn't you?"
Benji sighed. "I was just thinking about your health." But he turned toward the door. "Fine. I'll bring them in small groups. Five minutes."
The first group to walk in were four teenage girls who let out an ear-piercing shriek the second they saw me.
"I'm such a huge fan of you and Rihanna!" one of them gushed the moment I hugged her. "You guys are, like, the ultimate power couple!"
That instantly dampened my mood. If Rihanna had her way, soon the whole world—including these girls—would hate me for breaking her heart.
Still, I forced a smile. "Thank you!"
After taking a few photos, their turn was over.
Over the next hour, I met about twenty-five more fans, and by the end of it, I was beyond ready to head home and get some shut-eye.
But just as I thought I was done, the last two people walked in.
"Hi, Troy." A man in his late twenties stood in front of me with a wide grin. "Remember me?"
"Bobby?" I asked in surprise, quickly getting up from my seat and walking over to him. "How are you, man?" Without hesitation, I pulled him into a brotherly hug. "I haven't seen you in years! How've you been? What are you up to? Tell me everything!"
Bobby had been my neighbor in Los Angeles when I was a kid. He and his girlfriend, Amy, played my co-stars in my very first short film, [Sex Education]. They didn't reprise their roles when it was remade, but I still remembered the experience of working with them.
"I'm great," Bobby said, then turned to the beautiful woman beside him. "This is my girlfriend, Janet."
"Hi!" I shook hands with her warmly. "Your boyfriend used to be a neighbor and a good friend."
"I know," Janet said, rolling her eyes at Bobby. "He's told me, like, a thousand times."
I chuckled. "So he brags about knowing me, huh?" I smirked at Bobby.
"All the time," Janet said with mock exasperation. "He even brags about you to his colleagues and clients."
"Clients?" I raised an eyebrow at Bobby. "You're not acting anymore?"
He shrugged. "As much as I loved acting, it wasn't paying the bills. So I got a law degree and—since we're in California—I specialized in entertainment law."
"That's great!" I grinned. "Which firm are you with?"
"I used to work at White & Case, but the workload was insane, so I quit recently. I'm planning to start my own practice. Maybe even get into talent management. Let's see where the wind takes me."
White & Case was one of the biggest law firms in the U.S.—they didn't just hire anyone. Only the best.
"How long were you with them?" I asked.
"Four years," he replied confidently. "I was due for a promotion in a few months, but I wanted some peace in my life."
I studied him for a moment. "How good are you at negotiating?"
He smirked. "I like to think I'm the best. Remember, I was a trained actor before I became a lawyer. It's easy to read people's cues—gives me a huge advantage. Once you know what they want, it's all about striking when the time is right."
I nodded. "Alright. Consider yourself hired."
His eyes widened in shock. "Wait, what?"
"I have a lawyer—he's good. But I want a manager too. Someone who can handle all my future contracts. With you, I get a two-in-one deal. So what do you say? Interested?"
Bobby was momentarily stunned into silence.
"Of course, I accept!" he nearly shouted, excitement clear on his face.
"Not so fast," I said, holding up a finger. "You have to prove yourself first. I don't mix business with personal relationships unless you're genuinely good at your job."
An idea sparked in my head, but before I could voice it—
"I can't believe you guys!" Janet interrupted, crossing her arms. "We were on a date, Bobby, and you still turned it into business. Can't it wait until tomorrow?"
I gave her an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Janet. It's just exciting seeing Bobby again after all these years."
"It's alright." She sighed but waved it off.
"Sorry, Troy," Bobby said, fishing out a business card from his pocket. "Here—keep my card. We'll continue this conversation tomorrow, or whenever you have time."
"For sure." I nodded, taking the card. "Have fun, you two!"
As Bobby and Janet left, I couldn't help but feel relieved.
I'd been wanting a manager for a while now. And if Bobby could negotiate Taylor Swift's contract from Scott Borchetta? He'd definitely be hired.
Now there was only one major problem in my life at the moment about which I was still clueless.
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AN: Heads up, for those who haven't read the last 180 chapters of this story, yes there will be drama. This isn't some story with fantasy elements where I can just add an awesome fight to build up tension. In my opinion, Drama would be unnecessary if the resolution to it is unsatisfactory, and those who have read the conclusion have nothing but positive things to say about it.
I wanted to clarify Rihanna's motivations here since some of the advanced readers were confused. She felt pressured by Jay-Z to fake break-up with Troy. When she ran into Troy kissing Scarlett, she felt bad (like any girl would), but after she had time to cool down, she knew he wasn't at fault. Still, she decided to take advantage of the situation by pushing for the break-up. Remember, she's just 18 at the moment.