Instant Fame

Dylan's hospital room was crowded when the team from the Black Sheep Firm arrived. Nate led the group, his usual smug confidence muted and replaced with an unnatural politeness.

His face was on every channel and newspaper, people singing praises of his bravery. He was bound to be promoted after everything settled down.

"Dylan, my man!" Nate greeted loudly, spreading his arms as if this were a casual meetup rather than a hospital visit. "You gave us quite the scare. But hey, look at you, still kicking!"

A few of the firm's female associates rushed to Dylan's bedside, armed with flowers, fruit baskets, and what seemed like too much perfume.

They didn't even give Nate the chance to complete his act before shoving their gifts in Dylan's face.

"Oh my gosh, you're so brave!" one of them gushed, leaning in far too close. "To think you were shot three times and still managed to hold your ground. You're a hero!"

"If you ever need anything... anything at all... you just call me, okay?" Another chimed in, placing a hand lightly on Dylan's arm.

Dylan sat up on the hospital bed with an exhausted but polite smile and nodded faintly. His pale face and bandaged chest spoke volumes about how much energy he lacked for this circus.

Clara and Aria stood awkwardly near the back of the room, their faces a mixture of irritation and concern. Every time they tried to step forward, another female colleague would swoop in with some over-the-top comment or gesture, blocking their path.

"Are they here to check on him or to audition for a reality show?" Aria leaned toward Clara, whispering under her breath.

"They're not even giving him room to breathe. This is ridiculous." Clara huffed, gripping the edge of her bag.

While they felt frustrated, they couldn't blame these girls. The Dylan seated on the hospital bed was different from the man they knew. This one was better looking, more charismatic, and now, he is much braver.

How can someone change so much, so fast?

Did he hit puberty or something?

Nate patted Dylan lightly on the shoulder, his grin so forced it was almost painful to watch.

"We're all so proud of you, Dylan. Truly. You're making the firm look good out there. This whole… ordeal? Just proves your resilience. Right, everyone?" He asked, his voice lacking confidence.

The group murmured agreement, though it was clear most of them were more interested in taking selfies with Dylan.

"Get your hands off me." Dylan didn't hide his hostility.

He was well aware that from now on, Nate was no longer his boss. His promotion was certain, so he had no reason to be polite anymore.

Dylan grabbed Nate's hand and flung it off his shoulder. Nate was taken aback by this and felt embarrassed by the gazes of everyone in the room.

Koff! Koff! Koff!

Nate coughed awkwardly while retreating from the hospital bed. He wasn't sure why but his hands felt numb from Dylan's grip, making Nate wonder if Dylan was always this strong

"Alright folks, let's give the man some rest... He's earned it." Nate said, his voice shaky.

Without hesitation, he walked out of the room, leaving behind annoyed murmurs by female staff. The group reluctantly shuffled out, shooting reluctant gazes at Dylan.

Clara and Aria were about to walk out when Dylan pointed in their direction.

"Clara, stay back..." He said before leaning back on his pillow.

Aria froze, her eyebrows furrowed and her fists clenched. She shot a glance at Dylan, but he wasn't even looking at her.

Clara watched as Aria bit down on her lower lips before walking away hurriedly.

Just a week ago, the entire office believed Dylan would break down, yet she was the one having a hard time now.

"What are you doing over there?" Dylan's voice broke her out of her reverie. "Come, there is something I need you to do for me..."

---

Not long after the firm left, silence returned and Dylan felt happy again. He was adjusting his pillows when a familiar voice broke the quiet.

"Yo, lawyer man."

Dylan shifted his attention to the doorway, only to see 20 Shots. He was dressed in a hoodie and jeans, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

There was no entourage, no bravado, just a young man with guilt written all over his face.

"20 Shots... it's good you came, I have planned to call you soon." Dylan welcomed him with a smile.

The rapper stepped inside, pulling a chair over to sit beside the bed. He didn't meet Dylan's gaze at first, his eyes fixed on the bandages covering the lawyer's chest.

"Man… you really took a hit for me," 20 Shots said quietly, his voice stripped of its usual swagger. "I heard you almost didn't make it."

"It's part of the job," Dylan exhaled slowly, his voice but his eyes burning with passion. "By the way, if I knew three shots to the chest was all it took to get clout and bitches? I would have taken them years ago."

20 Shots nodded, a flicker of respect in his eyes. Not many men could make jokes in a situation like this. Especially, people who weren't involved in this kind of life.

"I owe you, man. For real. I don't know how I'm gonna pay you back, but I will." 20 Shots said with a genuine smile. However, Dylan didn't have it.

He had no intention of suffering without a reasonable form of compensation, so he came up with one.

"I know how you can pay me back. An exclusive representation agreement." Dylan slid out the contract from underneath his pillow and passed it over to 20 Shots, who was taken aback.

"Also, I recovered the footage needed to prove your innocence... The case is as good as won, but we don't have enough evidence to prove Jamal planned it." Dylan said while 20 Shots was going through the contract.

He watched as Jamal lowered the contract, his eyes narrowing.

"What you say?" 20 Shots looked up, overwhelmed by mixed emotions.

He wasn't sure whether to be happy that he was going to beat the case or pissed that his boy got killed, and they also tried to kill him.