Guilty as sin (Complete)

Chapter 16

Taylor's POV

Joe roughly grabbed my arm looking furious pulling me down the hallway, sorry me against the wall his hand coming to my throat. "What the fuck was that Taylor? Are you trying to embarrass me you stupid whore? Throwing yourself at him like that? Are that fucking desperate for attention?" He  Screams in my face. My vision slowly starts to become blurry as he cuts off my oxygen, when suddenly he lets go and he is ripped away. I gasp for for air and almost fall to the floor, but Travis catches me just in time.

Travis' POV

I see that piece of shit grab Taylor by the throat and scream in her face. Absolutely seething I'm up behind him in seconds grabbing him by the back of the neck pulling him off her and tossing him aside. Looking over I see Taylor start to crumple to the floor so I grab her and pull her into my arms before she can hit the floor.

"You're okay baby, it's going to be fine." I say in a soothing voice, making sure she's going to be okay. 

Seeming as though she's heard the commotion I see Selena enter the hallway upon seeing Taylor she rushes over towards us.

"I've got her Trav, you go take care of that trash over there." Selena tells me.

I nod as I shift Taylor over to her lap, then make my way toward the piece of shit that was cowering in the coner.

"You got some fucking nerve, grabbing her like that... Doesn't make you feel like a big man hurting girls? Because let me tell you something you're not, you're pathetic and weak. The only reason I haven't killed you is because you're not worth the fucking trouble I'd get in." I spit, looming over him.

I can feel the vibration of my own heart thudding in my chest, pure adrenaline demanding I swing, but seeing Selena holding a gasping Taylor is the only thing keeping my hands at my sides.

"You think you own her? You don't own a damn thing. You're just a parasite that finally got caught."

​Joe’s face twists. The fear is still there, but the humiliation of being tossed like a ragdoll in front of the "A-list" crowd starting to spill into the hallway turns his skin a sickly, mottled red. He scrambles to his feet, smoothing his jacket with trembling hands, trying to find his "sophisticated" persona again.

​"You... you’re all insane," Joe stammers, his voice rising an octave. He looks past me to the crowd—Meryl, Paul, Ryan, and Keleigh are all standing there, faces frozen in expressions of pure disgust. "She’s a cheat! She’s been sleeping with this... this brute under my roof! I have the rights to her life! I have the masters! You all should be thanking me for keeping her in line!"

​Taylor's POV

​I lean against Selena, my throat stinging, but my head finally clear. I watch the man I spent three years with unravel. It’s not a pretty sight. He looks like a cornered animal, screaming at the very people he spent all night trying to impress.

​"You don't have anything, Joe," I say, my voice raspy but steady as I stand up, pulling away from Selena’s protective grip.

​Joe spins on me, his eyes wide and manic. "I have everything! I’m a partner! You’ll never sing a note of those songs again without my permission! I’ll bury them! I’ll make sure your legacy dies in a vault!"

​Suddenly, the heavy silence of the hallway is broken by the sharp clack-clack-clack of heels. Tree Paine appears through the crowd, her phone held out like a weapon. She doesn't even look at Joe; she walks straight to me, a fierce, triumphant smirk on her face.

​"Taylor," Tree says, her voice ringing out so everyone can hear. "The US Copyright Office just sent the final confirmation. The registrations for the underlying compositions and the new mechanical rights are finalized. Every lyric, every melody, every 'oh' and 'ah' you ever wrote... it’s officially cleared for re-recording. As of five minutes ago, the 'Taylor’s Versions' are a legal go."

​The blood drains from Joe’s face. He looks like he’s been struck by lightning. "That’s... that’s not possible. I’m a co-owner of the recordings!"

​"You own a ghost, Joe," I tell him, stepping into the circle of Travis’s arm. I feel his heat, his strength, and for the first time in years, I don’t feel like I’m hiding. "You own a piece of plastic. I own the soul of the music. And I’m going to start over. I’m going to make it better, and I’m going to make sure the world never has to listen to your 'version' ever again."

​"You bitch!" Joe screams, lunging forward, but Ryan Reynolds steps out from the crowd, his usual humor replaced by a cold, hard stare.

​"I think it’s time for you to leave, Joe," Ryan says quietly. "Security is already on their way up. And just so we’re clear? I wouldn’t cast you as a background extra in a commercial after tonight. I don't think anyone here would."

​Joe looks around the room, realizing the "important people" he craved aren't looking at a peer—they’re looking at a monster. He starts screaming then, a high-pitched, unintelligible meltdown about how he made me, how I'd be nothing without him, until two large security guards grab him by the arms and drag him toward the elevator. His voice echoes down the hall until the doors hiss shut.

​The silence that follows is heavy, then Travis exhales a breath he’s been holding for a lifetime. He turns me in his arms, cupping my face, ignoring the crowd of legends watching us.

​"Is it over?" he whispers, his thumb brushing over the faint red marks on my neck.

​"It’s over," I say, a tear finally escaping—not of sadness, but of pure, unadulterated relief. "Let's go home, Trav. Not Cornelia Street. Just... home."