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It took him a few minutes to respond. Multiple times I saw the three dots pop up indicating he was texting and then they would disappear.

Me: Zay, where y’all at? I’m leaving tonight and I just want to say bye before I go

He replied within minutes.

Zay: Grindhouse. He recording.

I didn’t overthink it. I got dressed, grabbed my bag, and took a car to Grindhouse Studios. As I walked down the hall, I heard it; one of my tracks. A bassline I’d sent him weeks ago; one he’d dismissed and called “too soft.”

I frowned, wondering why he’d use it now… and why he didn’t call me since I literally produced the track. When I opened the door to Studio C, I understood why.

The scene inside hit me like a fuckin’ slap.

The smell and smoke from the weed fogged the air.

There were bottles littering the tables.

Laughter echoed off the walls. Half-naked women were dancing, grinding, leaning all over his crew like they belonged there.

And in the booth stood Royal with headphones covering his ear and a bitch at his side.

He was standing in front of the mic and letting her kiss his neck while he smirked like the whole world was a joke.

I froze looking around at the scene. Neither Zay nor Malachi would meet my eyes, only the women did; each one sneering at me like I was lost. As I stood in front of the console, my arms crossed, Royal looked up and saw me.

His expression sobered and he gently pushed the girl off of him.

She looked confused and I looked pissed.

“Malachi,” I said. “Kill the fuckin’ track.” The music stopped and I pressed the button for the intercom into the booth. “Royal come out. We need to talk.”

Royal rubbed his hand down his face and the girl leaned toward the mic. “Who the fuck is she?”

I blinked slowly, my patience wearing thin.

“Aye, you,” I snapped, pointing through the glass. “And all your lil thirsty ass friends? OUT.”

“Who the fuck she think she is?” I heard one of her friends ask and I turned around ready for a fight, but Zay and Malachi didn’t hesitate. They knew my mouth and knew things could quickly escalate. I didn’t play that shit with nobody. Within seconds, they were clearing the studio.

I turned back to Royal and the woman who refused to leave. “Aye, I’mma tell you this one fuckin’ time. Get that bitch outta there or I’m fuckin’ up this studio.”

Royal whispered something to the girl, and she rolled her eyes before walking out of the booth, looking me up and down like I was inconveniencing her. Royal walked out the booth right behind her, jaw tight, voice hot and when the studio door closed, he finally spoke.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here, Averi?”

I stepped forward. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here, using one of my tracks that you specifically told me you didn’t fuckin’ want. I produced that track Royal and you ain’t got me up in here to monitor my work why? Because you got these bitches up in here?”

“Mannn, fuck all that.” He replied. “Why the fuck you here bruh?”

I paused, gathering myself before I snapped on his ass then calmly replied. “I came to see you. To talk to you. Before I leave.”

“You shoulda left already,” he snapped. “Ain’t nobody ask you to stay.”

I flinched. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

He scoffed. “You. You what’s wrong.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

He stepped in closer, eyes wild with hurt. “I shouldn’t have been with yo ass that night. If I was with my brother like I was supposed to be?—”

“Royal.”

“I FUCKIN’ BLAME YOU,” he shouted. Silence swallowed the studio. “You think you helping, but all you did was distract me. I was supposed to be there with him, not laid up with you. This shit ain’t real, this wasn’t nothin’ but the devil distractin me.”

My stomach twisted. “So… what? Everything we had was fake?”

“It was temporary. You ain’t my girl. You ain’t my wife. You just… were there.”

My mouth fell open in shock. Tears threatening to spill from my eyes. Then, I felt the sting of my hand connecting to his face before I even realized I was moving. That slap echoed, loudly around the studio. He staggered back, shock in his eyes.

“Fuck you Royal. You’re a fuckin’ bitch ass nigga and you don’t deserve me.

” Without speaking another word, I turned storming out the studio past Zay and Malachi, the women were gone.

I couldn’t even look at them, embarrassed as fuck that I had let that nigga play me.

They called after me, but I didn’t stop.

Later that night, I boarded a red eye back to California. No goodbye, no closure. Just heartbreak in a carry-on bag. Between my family and Royal, I was done with Atlanta. It ain’t have shit else to offer me and I promised myself I would never be back.

By the time I touched down in L.A., I was drained. Emotionally, physically, and spiritually.

The weekend passed in a blur of weed, wine, candles, comfort food, and silence. I didn’t answer my phone. Didn’t check social media. I needed space from everything—and everyone. Just long enough to gather the pieces of myself Royal had shattered.

But Monday morning didn’t care about heartbreak.

I pulled my hair into a slick ponytail, put on a pair of dark jeans, a white blouse, and a pink blazer to match my pink Givenchy heels I’d purchased while I was in Atlanta.

I dabbed concealer under my eyes and headed into the meeting we’d postponed weeks ago.

Egypt, Serenity, and I sat at the long marble table inside the CW conference room, our agents flanking us like bodyguards as a stern executive gave the speech we already knew was coming.

“The network has decided not to renew The Coven for another season.”

Just like that. No tears. No gasps. Just a heavy silence and the kind of knowing glance passed between friends who had already braced for impact.

Serenity was the first to speak. “Damn. So that’s it, huh?”

The exec nodded. “It’s been an incredible run—groundbreaking, really. But the network is shifting to a new programming model.”

Translation: they want cheap drama, not Black women casting spells and building sisterhood.

Egypt leaned back in her chair; arms crossed. “Their loss.”

And honestly? She was right. As heartbreaking as it was, we’d known this was coming. The ratings were strong, the fanbase loyal, but shows like ours didn’t get to thrive forever. Not here. Still, the ache was real.

“This just means more time for you to open that studio, Tootie,” I said, bumping my shoulder against Serenity’s.

“And for you to finally finish that album,” Serenity replied, shooting a glance at Egypt.

“And for you to finally stop pretending like acting was your first love,” Egypt teased, looking at me.

I smiled. “Music’s always been my first love. I was just seeing what that spotlight felt like for a minute.”

The meeting wrapped quickly after that. Handshakes, hollow reassurances, the usual. Not to mention, the reminder about our first table read for the final season coming up in a few weeks.

As we walked out into the lobby, my phone buzzed, and Logan’s name flashed across my screen. I stared at the screen for a second before answering. “What’s up?”

“I need you to come by the office. Nothing bad, I promise. Just swing through.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

I sighed. “Fine.”

An hour later, after fighting through traffic, I tugged my sleeves down over my wrists as I stepped inside LA Records’ main building.

My heels clicked against the marble as I crossed the sleek lobby of LA Records, the weight of everything I’d been trying to suppress crashing down behind my eyes.

I was already reeling— The Coven was done.

Just like that. No fanfare, no second chance.

Just a short meeting, tight smiles, and a “we’re so proud of the run you had. ”

I hadn’t even made it to the end of the damn hallway before my phone buzzed again. It was the group chat, going off with texts one after another.

Serenity: Girl… you seen Lipstick Confidential?

Ari: Brace yourself.

Egypt: We love you. Don’t let it knock you off your square.

My stomach dropped. I didn’t want to click it. I knew better. But my thumb moved, clicking the link anyway.

Lipstick Confidential Exclusive

WELL, THAT WAS FAST... GUESS LOVE IN HOLLYWOOD AIN’T BUILT TO LAST

Posted: 12:03 PM PST | By: The Lipstick Lounge

Looks like Concrete Roses isn’t the only thing crumbling…Sources close to rising rapper Royal Teegan and Grammy-winning producer/Actress Averi St. Claire have confirmed that the couple—who never quite officially confirmed their status but were clearly very much a thing—have called it quits.

The breakup comes just weeks after the tragic death of Royal’s older brother, Kingston Teegan, and shortly after Averi was spotted leaving Atlanta and returning to Los Angeles without so much as a goodbye post.

Averi’s reps have stayed silent, but the timeline has been doing the math… and things aren’t adding up.

To make matters worse? Royal was seen leaving a popular strip club in downtown Atlanta late Friday night, clearly under the influence, stumbling into a waiting SUV with one of the dancers clinging to his arm.

A video obtained by one of our readers shows him slurring, laughing, and needing help from his security to stand upright.

Yikes.

This comes on the heels of Averi receiving what some are calling “career-altering news”—a source close to the Coven crew confirmed that the hit supernatural drama will not be renewed for another season.

So if you're keeping track:

Show cancelled.

Boyfriend acting a fool.

Unfollowed each other on IG.

And still no official statement from either camp.

While Royal’s camp is leaning into the “healing through music” narrative ahead of his album release, insiders say Averi is done and has “no interest in patching things up.”

Oop.

We’re keeping our eye on this one—but if you ask us, it looks like another Hollywood love story just got swept into the gutter.

Stay glossy, stay messy,

– XO, Lipstick Confidential

#AveriStClaire #RoyalTeegan #ConcreteCrumble #CovenCancelled #SituationshipScandal #LipstickExclusive

I scanned the headline once. Then again. My pulse thumped in my ears as my eyes locked on the words:

Royal seen stumbling out of a strip club, visibly intoxicated, with one of the dancers clinging to his arm...

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself not to cry. Not here. Not in this hallway. I was tired of crying over him. Tired of feeling everything so loudly. Tired of pretending it didn’t hurt when it always did. I took a deep breath. Then another. Then I muttered to myself quietly, under my breath:

“ You’re good. You’re fine. Just make it through this meeting. Don’t let him be the reason you crumble today. ”

I slipped my phone into my bag, fixed the collar of my blazer, adjusted my bag on my arm and lifted my chin.

When I walked into Logan’s office. I looked like I had it together, but inside, I was breaking in places no one could see. Still, I put on a brave face just as he stood up from behind his desk.

“Thanks for coming.” He smiled gently, eyes telling me he’d seen the ‘exclusive’ from Lipstick Confidential as well.

“I still don’t know why I’m here.”

“Just checking in. I heard about what happened with Royal and?—”

“Let me stop you. I know damn well you didn’t call me all the way here to talk about Royal’s ass.”

“I just, I wanted to make sure you were straight.”

“I don’t have time for this Logan…”

He opened his mouth to respond, but then the door behind me opened. I turned around and nearly choked.

Lux LA. The man himself. One of the most legendary rappers in the game—and co-founder of this very label.

He stepped in smooth, creamy caramel skin glinting under the lights blemish free, lower grills shining as he nodded at me dripped in designer from head to toe with two Cuban links around his neck.

The smell of Gucci Guilty wafting from him as he passed me.

“Averi St. Claire. Been hearing your name a lot lately.”

“Good things, I hope,” I managed, suddenly very aware of the sweat under my arms. It should have been a sin how fine this man is. His wife was a lucky woman, pushing 40 and looking younger and better than some of these so called YNs.

Lux chuckled. “Depends on who you ask.”

I laughed a little, then sat down when Logan motioned to the chair across from his. Lux opted to sit on the edge of Logan’s desk too close to me for comfort.

“We wanted to bring you in because we’re impressed,” Logan said. “Not just by your work with Royal, but what you did for Heaven too.”

Lux chimed in. “That track you wrote for her? Grammy award winning. You’ve got an ear most people spend decades tryna develop.”

I blinked. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

Logan leaned forward. “We wanna offer you a deal, Averi. An exclusive songwriting and producing contract. You’ll work closely with our up-and-coming talent—early access to songs, beats, full production rights, royalties, credits.

We want your name stamped all over the next generation of hits from LA Records artist.”

My heart skipped. It was everything I’d wanted. Everything I’d worked for. But… “I can’t say yes without conditions,” I said softly.

Lux raised an eyebrow. “Talk to me.”

“I have a creative partnership with Egypt Armstrong, she helped me write that hit for Heaven.” They nodded in acknowledgement.

“Okay, well since Tisch we made a promise to each other. I can’t sign anything that stops me from working with her.

I get it, that’s not how business works and sometimes we have to make sacrifices but on this I cannot and will not budge. ”

Logan nodded slowly, looking at Lux. They exchanged a glance, then Lux leaned back. “We can work with that,” he said. “As long as it’s just her.”

“Just her,” I confirmed lowkey shocked that this was going better than I thought it would. “I won’t shop anything else outside of LA Records.”

“Then we got a deal,” Logan said with a grin. “We’ll send the paperwork to your team. Welcome to Death Row… I mean LA Records.”

“This nigga,” Lux chuckled shaking his head. He extended his hand, and I accepted it, shaking on our deal before shaking Logan’s hand as well. “We gon’ make magic together Averi, I hope you’re ready.”

Before I could stand, Lux added, “Your friend Egypt… she looking for a label?”

I shrugged. “I’m sure she is. I know she’s about to start working on some music. That’s why I’ve been writing again.”

Logan pulled out his phone. “Mind sending her assistant’s info?” I nodded and quickly passed it along. Within seconds, Logan was making notes and Lux was nodding to himself.

“Y’all two about to make some real noise,” Lux said. “Glad you came in today.”

As I stood and made my exit, something inside me shifted. The show might be ending. My heart might be bruised and my relationship over before it even really began. But my career? It was just getting started. And this time—I wasn’t letting anything, or anyone, get in the way.