"What do you mean?" I ask.
"Show her, Peter," Oscar says, and Peter does as he's told, pressing a button on his laptop that makes the projector screen flash.
There, I see many links to the news about me. The more Peter scrolls down the page, the more I see the headlines. And all of them are horrible.
Hilary has been suspecting her ex-husband's affair with Cassie Castillo for a long time.
Cassie Castillo denies being a homewrecker.
Jude Scott releases another single that speaks about his heartbreak after his ex-girlfriend's betrayal.
Did Jude just dodge a bullet?
Cassie Castillo and Alejandro Sanchez spotted outside his hotel. Will she ever learn?
Cassie Castillo received death threats from sasaeng fans. People say she deserves it.
"You guys are horrible," Paul complains, placing a glass of wine on the coffee table with a loud thud before standing up from his seat. "Why are you showing her all of this?"
"Cassie, how are you going to explain to your fans if your next songs are about first love, finding yourself and loyalty?" Oscar asks. "From their point of view, you broke a lot of hearts here. They won't feel any connection."
"In short, it's a matter of time before they put the record into the trash and say 'bullshit,'" Morgan mutters, and I snap my head toward her, boiling in anger.
I've been working hard, suffering in every possible way, just to make her satisfied. I even had to call my doctor twice this year, and I was almost admitted into the hospital because of overwork—with all those nonstop tours, events and dance practices.
But Morgan never picks me up when I fall.
"Can't you do something about it?" I ask Oscar. "Can't the company do something about this? All of those accusations are false except for one, that is me sleeping with Alejandro." Frustration is evident in my voice.
Oscar, however, stays silent, staring at me. I stand up from the couch.
"So, one of the biggest recording labels in the world, Astalis Records, can't do anything about that?" A scoff leaves my mouth. "For God's sake. We're rich. We have connections. We should be able to clear all of those misunderstandings. We should be able to do something. Anything."
"We did try," Oscar says, crossing his arms on his chest. "We approached one of the biggest news media companies in the hope that once we have a deal with them, the rest of the misleading news will sound stupid."
"So? How did it go?" I urge, starting to lose my patience.
"We have one problem," Oscar says, and I don't like the look in his eyes, as if telling me to brace myself before hearing his next sentence. He then looks at Paul. "Paul, give her some water first."
Abruptly, Paul prepares a glass of water for me and hands it to me. Despite how irritated I am, I still take it and finish it in one gulp before handing it back to him.
"OK. Speak," I say to Oscar.
Oscar sighs. "We almost managed to close a deal with Premier News and Media Corporation, but," he pauses.
"But what?" I ask, thinking that it's a good start. The said company is the biggest diversified broadcasting company in the country.
"But before they can make a decision that will have such a huge impact on their readers and viewers, which will affect their profits significantly, they will have to get the approval from their shareholders," Oscar says. "And recently, the majority of their shares has been acquired by another party. Have you heard of Lucas Klein?"
I don't even know who the hell that man is, probably one of the most successful businessmen in the US. "What about him?"
"Well, he's willing to secure the deal, but on one condition," Oscar says, looking extra careful to approach the topic.
"What condition?" I urge.
"Inhale," he orders.
"What?" I squeak.
"Cassie, take a deep breath," Oscar says, motioning with his hands.
I am hella confused, but since I need it, I do it nonetheless. I inhale deeply.
"Now, exhale," he says, and I do as he told me.
"So, what does he want?" I repeat my question.
"He wants to marry you."
Mike and Paul gasp loudly. On the other hand, Morgan and Peter are indifferent, which means that Oscar told them about this beforehand.
Wait, Peter isn't entirely indifferent, because he nods at me with a look of sympathy, signaling that Oscar isn't joking. Meanwhile, here I am, utterly speechless. To say that my jaw has dropped to the ground is an understatement.
"Excuse me?" I stare at Oscar like he's crazy, like he has just spoken an alien language.
"You heard it," he says. "He wants to marry you."
My mouth opens and closes like a fish. When I finally find my voice to speak, it's shaking, "What kind of nonsense is this?"
No one, however, can answer me.
I clench my fists tightly at my sides. If I'd known that the world revolving around my celebrity life would be this crazy, I would have thought again before deciding to pursue my dreams.
"That doesn't make any sense. When I marry someone, it will be a man whom I love, who loves me too and will propose to me, and most importantly who is sane," I say firmly before I realize something. I burst into laughter—I've never laughed this hard that I'm starting to question my sanity as well. "This is so funny. This man is a joke. You guys are pranking me, aren't you?"
From the expression on Mike and Paul's faces, they're expecting that Oscar is indeed joking. But Oscar just stares at me in silence, more sympathy skating on his face.
"I'm sorry to say this to you, Cassie, but he seems pretty serious about this. In fact, he has met the director in person," he says matter-of-factly. "With his lawyer."
My mouth drops open again. "Why are you talking as if my marriage is a fucking business deal?"
But Oscar ignores my words and shakes his head in desperation. He takes an envelope that's lying on the coffee table and hands it to me. "Maybe you should read this first to adsorb everything. According to him, this is his proposal."
I snatch the envelope from his hand. The reason why I did it is that I can't wait to tear the letter apart into a million tiny pieces. I thought that I couldn't get any angrier, but once I open the envelope and read it, my eyes drinking every word, I realize how wrong I was.