I Stayed Up For That Ticket She Called It Her Dream My Brother Crushed It Novel by Elena Winters _ Novel




I Stayed Up For That Ticket She Called It Her Dream My Brother Crushed It Chapter 01

I had stayed up for several nights stalking the ticketing app, and finally snagged two front-row seats to the Thanksgiving Weekend Concert—for my boyfriend’s favorite idol.
I was just about to screenshot them and send them to him when his message popped up first.
[Chloe’s a hardcore fan and she couldn’t get any tickets. So I gave yours to her.]
[It’s the same watching from home. The venue’s packed and loud anyway.]
I stared at the now-empty ticketing app.
After a brief pause, I sent a voice message to my brother—who also happened to be Ethan Miller’s idol.
“Chase, can you do me a favor tonight? During the show, call up whoever’s sitting in my seat and ask her where she got the ticket.”
***
Seconds after I sent it, a video call from Chase Grant popped up.
“That punk Ethan Miller pissed you off again, didn’t he?”
His voice cut through the background noise, deep and commanding with zero room for argument.
I didn’t reply. I just forwarded the screenshots of Ethan’s messages.
He read them and cursed under his breath.
“Front-row seats? I had Mr. Walker reserve you VIP passes days ago!”
“But no, you said you didn’t want them. Said you wanted to ‘experience the joy of earning them together’ with your boyfriend. That was your idea of bonding? Are you out of your mind, Yuna?”
I sniffled, holding back my emotions, and said softly, “Chase, I just need you to do me a favor.”
Chase had been in the industry long enough to catch on instantly. The rage on his face vanished, replaced by a smirk cold enough to freeze hell.
“Got it.”
“The passes I saved for you—Mr. Walker’s putting them at the VIP entrance. Just go straight there and grab it.”
“Tonight, I’ll make sure you get front-row seats to the best damn show of your life.”
As soon as his call ended, Ethan’s name flashed on my screen.
His tone was self-righteous, with just a hint of scolding beneath the surface.
“Yuna, why are you acting moody and ignoring my texts and calls?”
“Chloe told me you seemed upset?”
I didn’t bother with his small talk. My voice was ice-cold. “Ethan, who gave you the right to touch my ticket?”
He seemed briefly stunned by my tone, but quickly shifted into full gaslight mode.
“I just wanted to cheer her up, okay? She’s been super stressed prepping for grad school. She’s lost weight, totally burned out.”
“You’re her best friend. Can’t you be a little more understanding?”
I almost laughed at the absurd logic. “She’s stressed, so I’m supposed to hand over my ticket? What am I—her mom? Her therapist?”
He probably hadn’t expected me to snap like that, so he quickly switched tactics and started gaslighting me like he always did.
“Anyway, weren’t you going to see me? Not Chase? You’re not even his fan. What does it matter where you sit?”
“Chloe’s been waiting years to see him live. Can’t you just help make her dream come true? Why are you being so selfish now?”
As I listened to him belittle the nights I’d spent scrambling for tickets, my heart went cold.
So all that effort—meant nothing to him. Just a seat. Any seat. No big deal.
My voice was soft, but every word landed sharp and clear.
“I got those tickets because I wanted to watch your favorite idol with you. Is that so hard to understand, Ethan Miller?”
That calm seemed to set him off. His volume spiked, full of disappointment and indignation.
“Why are you being so petty? It’s just a ticket!”
“Chloe even said she’d send you high-res photos and try to grab you some autographed merch. Isn’t that enough?”
Thinking I was upset about material stuff, he finally softened his tone, like he was throwing me a bone.
“Alright, alright. Don’t make a big deal out of it. I know you worked hard.”
“I’ll treat you to dinner later.”
“You just enjoy the livestream at home. Chloe and I will send you some updates.”
His patronizing tone made my skin crawl.
I didn’t waste another word on him.
Just hung up.
Then I turned, opened my closet, and pulled out the custom designer gown Chase had sent me last week—fresh off the runway.
Inside the box was a pass.
Emblazoned in gold letters: All Access – Family of Performer.
I wasn’t just going to that concert.
I was going to walk in like I owned the damn place.

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