Chapter Content
As the other artists handled their packed schedules—ad campaigns, podcast guest appearances, interviews, and more—Foca and Bobby had already reached their own destination.
Nestled in the Upper East Side, where old money slept soundly behind iron gates and centuries-old brick, Foca parked in front of a stately townhouse that looked like it had more history than both of them combined.
The moment Foca stepped out of the car, two strong, overly enthusiastic arms wrapped around him, nearly tackling him straight to the pavement—saved only because Bobby was right behind him.
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