50. A conflict at bar

The mood was light and celebratory as Matthew led Emma and Shirley to his favorite bar—a chic, upscale venue tucked away in the city. It was Matthew's go-to spot for unwinding, where the manager knew him well enough to reserve a private, luxurious VIP room whenever he stopped by. The intimate space offered a reprieve from the public eye, a sanctuary where he and his loved ones could relax without worrying about being harassed by overzealous fans or paparazzi.

As they entered the VIP room, the ambient lighting and soft music set the perfect tone for the evening. Matthew ordered a round of drinks, eager to let loose and enjoy the night. "Cheers to us," he said, raising his glass, "and to getting the hell away from that drama back there."

Emma smiled, feeling the warmth of the moment. "Thanks for bringing us here, Matt. This place is amazing."

Matthew leaned back, taking a sip of his whiskey. "You deserve it. I wanted to show you the side of my life that's more than just concerts and screaming fans. Plus, this place always keeps things discreet—no one will bother us here."

The trio chatted and laughed, enjoying the rare opportunity to reconnect away from the chaos of their daily lives. As the night went on, Emma excused herself to use the restroom, leaving Matthew and Shirley deep in conversation about his latest tour plans.

Emma navigated her way through the dimly lit hallway, the bass of the music vibrating faintly through the walls. But just as she turned the corner, she found herself blocked by a group of three men, their leering eyes immediately making her uncomfortable. One of them, a scruffy-looking guy with a cocky smirk, stepped closer, reeking of alcohol and arrogance.

"Hey there, sweetheart," he slurred, eyeing her up and down. "You look lost. How about we keep you company?"

Emma took a step back, trying to keep her voice steady. "I'm fine, thanks. I'm just trying to get back to my friends."

But the man wasn't deterred. He closed the distance, his tone shifting from playful to menacing. "Oh, come on, don't be like that. We're just trying to have some fun." His hand reached out, grazing her arm, and Emma recoiled, fear tightening in her chest.

"Don't touch me," Emma snapped, her voice firmer now, but the fear in her eyes betrayed her. The man just chuckled, his friends moving in closer, effectively blocking her escape route.

"Feisty. I like that," the man sneered, his hand inching toward her again, this time with clear intent.

At that moment, Shirley emerged from the VIP room, immediately sensing the tension. She rushed forward, positioning herself between Emma and the man. "Back off," Shirley demanded, her voice sharp and unyielding. "She's not interested, and you're making a big mistake."

The man sneered, unfazed by Shirley's presence. "And who the hell are you, her bodyguard? Just mind your own business."

Shirley stood her ground, eyes blazing with defiance. "I'm her friend, and if you don't back off right now, you'll regret it. You've got no idea who you're messing with."

The man's friends laughed, and one of them shouted toward the bar, calling over a group of rough-looking guys who quickly surrounded Emma and Shirley. "Oh, look, we've got ourselves a tough girl. Thinks she can talk big because she's got a mouth on her," one of the men jeered, crossing his arms as he towered over them.

Emma's heart raced as she looked around, counting at least five of them now. The narrow hallway suddenly felt claustrophobic, their sneers and mocking laughter pressing in from all sides. She and Shirley exchanged a quick, worried glance, their confidence wavering as the reality of the situation sank in.

Shirley took a deep breath, refusing to let fear paralyze her. "Walk away, all of you. You don't want this fight. There are cameras everywhere, and you're in the wrong place to be picking a fight with the wrong people."

But the men only laughed harder, emboldened by their numbers. "Cameras don't mean shit when it's our word against yours," one of them spat, closing the circle tighter. "We outnumber you, and you're in our territory now."

Emma felt a surge of dread, her pulse pounding in her ears. She tried to keep her voice calm, but the desperation seeped through. "We don't want any trouble. Just let us go."

Shirley's resolve remained firm, but she, too, felt the creeping sense of hopelessness. "Emma, stay close," she whispered, her eyes darting between the men, looking for any chance to escape. "We'll find a way out of this."

But just as the situation seemed to teeter on the brink of violence, a familiar voice cut through the tension like a knife.

"What the hell is going on here?" Matthew's voice boomed from the other end of the hallway, cold and commanding. He strode forward with a fury that made the men pause, their bravado faltering as they recognized the famous face now glaring at them.

Matthew's eyes were like ice as he took in the scene, his gaze locking onto the ringleader. "You think you can just harass women in this place? In my place?" His voice was low, but it carried a dangerous edge that made the men take a collective step back.

The leader, suddenly less confident, tried to stammer an excuse. "Hey, man, we were just—"

Matthew cut him off, his expression darkening. "I don't care what you were 'just' doing. You touch my sister, and I'll make sure you regret it for the rest of your miserable lives." He glanced at the security cameras, then back at the men. "I know the manager here, and trust me, he'll be more than happy to kick all of your asses out of here permanently. Get lost."

The men hesitated, clearly weighing their options. But Matthew's unwavering stance and the furious look in his eyes were enough to send them scrambling, muttering curses under their breath as they backed off and disappeared into the crowd.

Matthew turned to Emma and Shirley, his expression softening with concern. "Are you okay?"

Emma nodded, though her hands were still trembling. "Yeah, thanks to you and Shirley."

Matthew glanced at Shirley, giving her an appreciative nod. "You did great. Thanks for stepping in."

Shirley managed a faint smile, the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. "I wasn't going to let them get away with it. But I'm glad you showed up when you did."

Matthew put his arm around Emma protectively, guiding her back toward the VIP room. "You're safe now. Let's just go back, take a breath, and forget those assholes ever existed."

As they settled back into the private room, the earlier mood was subdued but still tinged with relief. Matthew ordered another round of drinks, this time more determined than ever to make sure his sister and Shirley felt safe and protected. They raised their glasses again, this time in a quiet, unspoken promise to look out for each other, no matter what.

Emma leaned against her brother, feeling the weight of the night slowly lift. "Thanks, Matt. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Matthew smiled, his grip tightening slightly. "You'll never have to find out, Em. Not as long as I'm around."