The first thing Naomi noticed when she stepped out of the bathroom was the silence.

Not real silence.

The hotel penthouse was still alive downstairs—music bleeding through floors, bass shaking glass, laughter spilling through expensive walls.

But the hallway outside had changed.

It was the kind of silence rich people created when something had gone wrong.

When everyone already knew.

Or almost knew.

Two security guards stood near the elevator.

One of them recognized her instantly.

His expression shifted so quickly it almost felt rehearsed.

Thirty minutes ago, he would’ve asked for a photo.

Now he looked at her like she was a problem that needed containment.

“Ms. Reyes,” the older guard said carefully. “We just need to ask you a few questions.”

Naomi crossed her arms instinctively.

To hide the blood.

To hide the shaking.

To hold herself together.

“Am I being arrested?”

“No, ma’am.”

Not yet.

The word wasn’t spoken—but it still landed.

Zara stepped in immediately.

“She’s not answering questions without legal representation.”

The younger guard blinked.

“This isn’t an interrogation.”

“And I’m not stupid,” Zara said flatly.

Before anyone could respond, the elevator doors opened.

Marcus Hale stepped out.

Two publicists behind him.

Perfect suit. Perfect posture. Perfect control.

The kind of man who never looked rushed, even when everything was collapsing.

One of the publicists exhaled in relief when she saw Naomi.

Not because Naomi was safe.

Because Naomi was still usable.

Marcus approached quickly.

His eyes flicked to Naomi’s sleeve.

For the first time that night, his expression cracked.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

Then immediately, business returned.

“We need to get ahead of this before TMZ does.”

Naomi stared at him.

“A man is missing.”

“And your face is attached to it.”

Her laugh came out sharp.

Uncontrolled.

“So that’s your priority?”

Marcus lowered his voice.

“Naomi, listen carefully. The studio has forty million invested in this project. Investors are already panicking. If this turns into a police investigation before we control the narrative—”

“Control the narrative?”

Her voice rose.

“That’s what you care about?”

Marcus exhaled slowly, like he’d done this too many times before.

“This industry destroys women over rumors,” he said. “You know that.”

Unfortunately, he was right.

Naomi had seen it happen.

A leaked clip. A rumor. A bad headline that never died.

Women didn’t get ruined all at once in Hollywood.

They got chipped away slowly—until nothing recognizable was left.

Marcus continued.

“Until Damien is found, you don’t go anywhere alone. No statements. No social media. No interviews.”

Naomi opened her mouth—

Then stopped.

Her vision blurred.

The hallway lights stretched for a second.

Her body tilted sideways.

Zara grabbed her immediately.

“Hey—hey, I’ve got you.”

Marcus frowned.

“Are you drunk?”

Naomi snapped instantly.

“No.”

Too fast.

Too sharp.

The silence that followed was worse.

A few people nearby were now watching.

One publicist subtly lifted her phone.

Already documenting.

Already preparing.

Naomi forced herself upright.

“I need air.”

“No,” Marcus said immediately.

“I said I need air.”

“And I said there are photographers outside.”

Of course there were.

Scandal always arrived faster than truth in this city.

Naomi could already imagine headlines forming in real time.

RISING ACTRESS LINKED TO MISSING PRODUCER.

LAST PERSON SEEN WITH HIM IDENTIFIED.

HOLLYWOOD MYSTERY DEEPENS.

Her phone buzzed.

A notification.

Then another.

#WhereIsDamien

The hashtag was already trending.

Naomi stared at the screen.

Thousands of posts.

Conspiracy threads forming in minutes.

Clips of her old interviews slowed down and analyzed.

Comments calling her cold.

Weird.

Off.

One post read:

I always knew something was wrong with her.

Another:

This is exactly how Hollywood covers things up.

Another:

She knows what happened.

Naomi’s stomach twisted.

The terrifying part wasn’t the accusations.

It was how quickly they had formed.

It hadn’t even been a night.

Her phone buzzed again.

Unknown number.

A message appeared.

You don’t remember because you weren’t supposed to.

Naomi froze.

Cold spread through her chest instantly.

Another message followed.

Stop looking before they erase you too.

Her breath stopped completely.

“Naomi?”

Zara’s voice sounded distant.

Like it belonged in another room.

Because suddenly Naomi understood something she didn’t want to understand.

Maybe Damien disappearing wasn’t the beginning of the nightmare.

Maybe it was only the first thing she was allowed to notice.