Zoe's POV
The message glowed brightly on my screen. For a moment, I just stared at it, my heart sinking slowly into my stomach.
"Bob, I really need your help right now. I'm willing to work with you if you're still interested in representing me. If you can talk to Zara and help save this opportunity, I'll cooperate fully and trust your guidance moving forward."
My fingers trembled slightly as I read the message again. I had written that. I had sent it. I had agreed to it.
A heavy breath slipped from my lips as my shoulders sagged against the headboard. My head throbbed painfully, like someone was pounding a hammer against the inside of my skull.
What had I done? I had just agreed to let Bob be my agent. My manager. Which meant he would handle everything—my public image, my performances, my deals, my career, my entire future.
