Drew Starkey Imagines

Empire State of Mind Pt 3 - Finale

GOSSIP GIRL
New York, New York—where the weak get swallowed whole and the strong? Well, they get worshipped. And right now, all eyes are on our Southern imports, Rafe Cameron and his Queen.

But here's the thing about being at the top: there's only one way left to go. And something tells me their fall will be as scandalous as their rise.

Grab your popcorn, Upper East Siders. This is one show you don't want to miss.

XOXO, Gossip Girl.

The air inside the dimly lit club was thick with cigarette smoke, perfume, and the unmistakable scent of money. The bass pulsed beneath your feet as the night unfolded around you—Manhattan's elite losing themselves in excess, champagne, and whispered secrets.

Rafe's hand was on your thigh, fingers absently tracing patterns along your bare skin beneath the slit of your dress. He was relaxed, leaning back against the velvet booth, but you knew him well enough to see past the cool exterior.

He was watching. Calculating.

Blair had been right—if you wanted to survive in this world, you had to play the game better. And for the past few weeks, you and Rafe had done exactly that. The whispers of your arrival had transformed into admiration, envy, obsession.

You were no longer just the newcomers. You were royalty.

But royalty had its enemies.

"Your ex is staring again." Rafe's voice was low, edged with something sharp as he lifted his glass to his lips.

You followed his gaze across the club, where your former fling—a blue-blooded Manhattan heir named Matthew Montclair—stood by the bar, eyes locked on you.

"You really need to get over it," you murmured, smirking as you leaned into Rafe.

His grip on your thigh tightened. "I don't like the way he looks at you."

You laughed softly. "You don't like the way anyone looks at me."

"Damn right."

A flash of movement caught your attention, and suddenly, Blair was sliding into the booth beside you, her expression unreadable.

"We have a problem," she announced, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle from her dress.

Rafe barely glanced at her. "Do we?"

Chuck appeared next, settling in beside Blair with his usual smirk. "You do."

You exchanged a look with Rafe before turning back to them. "Care to elaborate?"

Blair exhaled, her gaze flickering toward Matthew. "Your friend over there? He's been talking. Apparently, he's not thrilled about being replaced. And when the Upper East Side's golden boys get bruised egos..."

"They get messy," Chuck finished.

Your stomach twisted. "What did he say?"

Blair leaned in, lowering her voice. "He's telling anyone who'll listen that Rafe isn't who he says he is. That he's a liability—dangerous, reckless, barely keeping it together." Her eyes locked on yours. "And that you? You don't belong here. That you're a phase."

Rafe went rigid beside you.

Chuck swirled his drink, watching Rafe carefully. "If this keeps up, you won't just be on Gossip Girl—you'll be on Page Six."

For weeks, you and Rafe had done everything right. Played the part. Worn the crowns.

And now, it was all being threatened.