The Nation's President Picked Me Up From Prison-Chapter 18: Elyn: Best Song of the Year

When I finally step inside, the room goes so still it feels like I’ve crawled out of my own grave.

The looks on their faces are almost comical—wide-eyed, startled, as if they never expected me to show up here after the scandal I allegedly ignited.

Did they think sweet little Elyn would just stay buried somewhere, too depressed to resurface?

"Elyn, is that you, darling?" an older singer–songwriter calls out first, drifting toward me while the others hover close.

"Hello, Miss Dorothy," I say, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

She’s always been kind, and though we were never close enough to meddle in each other’s business, she’s one of the few in the industry I genuinely admire. She makes good music.

"Elyn!" someone else calls.

The smile stretching my lips falters the moment I see who it is.

Heather, my so-called friend, glides toward me in her favorite shade of pink.

She has been a Barbie enthusiast since debut, which explains the stubborn blonde hair she insists on maintaining despite being born a brunette. Back then, I never had the heart to tell her blonde didn’t really suit her complexion.

Miss Dorothy excuses herself just as Heather reaches me. The ceremony hasn’t started yet, so everyone is busy socializing, but the moment I walked in, half the room’s attention latched onto me.

I can still feel the weight of their gazes, the way they lean in just enough to catch every word.

"I’m so sorry about what happened to you," Heather begins, her eyes welling with tears she must have rehearsed in some backstage mirror. "When I heard about it, I was devastated. I wanted to visit, but my manager wouldn’t let me. And I had to fly abroad last week... I just feel so awful as a friend."

If I hadn’t known what she said behind my back, I might have fallen for her performance, might have played the fool again.

But Dahlia’s words still sit in the back of my mind like a stone.

"When I visited the agency, I heard Heather talking with the other girls. She said, ’I know she’s wicked behind that angelic face. A tragedy waiting to happen. Logan Hansley was a hotshot. She must’ve gotten too possessive of him when he didn’t show her affection. Poor Elyn.’ See? She’s not a real friend!"

Heather is a singer like me, though she’s under a different agency. She was one of the very few I dared to treat as a true friend in this industry.

But I guess I was too naïve to see the cracks in her smile.

Because beneath that sugar-sweet exterior is nothing but poison.

"It’s fine," I tell her. "I’m innocent, so I got out. Justice prevails, of course."

"Yes, I’m so happy!" she says, though the sharpness in her eyes peeks through her bright, glittery eyeshadow. "I didn’t expect you’d come tonight, though! I mean, I heard you got nominated for Best Song, but... I really think you should have stayed home to rest. Or maybe taken a vacation?"

Her words sound supportive on the surface, but the undertone is so clear I could bottle it: she’s implying I shouldn’t have come because she thinks I won’t win anyway.

What she doesn’t know is that I already have.

I honestly don’t know if I should laugh or pity her.

More people drift toward me, turning our conversation into background noise.

Their greetings are all the same.

How have you been?

I’m so sorry for what happened.

You must have struggled so much.

Thinly veiled concern masking the obvious hunger for gossip.

Someone from my agency comes up to me, but I brush them off with a polite "We’ll talk later."

That’s something I plan to do right after the wedding. I’ll end my contract and cut ties for good. I have no intention of staying under an agency whose values are so far from mine.

Relief washes over me when the host announces the ceremony is about to start.

People begin finding their seats, and I slip into mine.

The show opens with a performance from selected artists, and watching them helps settle my nerves. I’ve spent the past half hour dodging questions that could bite me later once the president announces our marriage. It feels like walking on thin ice with a spotlight overhead, my lungs tight from too much pretending.

Now that the room’s attention has shifted to the stage, I can finally stop acting like a social butterfly.

"This is it," Heather says beside me.

Of course she’s seated at my table. Why wouldn’t fate torture me tonight?

"The Best Song will be announced!" she chirps. The girls with us lean in, equally excited. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

"I think it’ll be yours," one of them whispers to Heather, though her volume suggests she wasn’t trying all that hard to keep it quiet.

"You think so?" Heather beams.

"Yes! I like your song better than... Elyn’s."

Heather turns to me. "You won’t be mad at me if I win Best Song this year, right, Elyn? You won’t be?"

I give her a sweet smile. "Of course, I won’t."

"Thanks so much, Elyn. You’re the sweetest."

"Best Song of the Year goes to..."

Heather clasps her hands, already glowing with expectation as she stares at the stage.

"Moonlight Sea by Elyn Hansley!"