Kourtney finally looked up. “I don’t care. Perfume gives me migraines. So do people who talk before 11 a.m.”
“Khloé,” Chyna said coolly.
In the final confessional, Kim looked directly into the lens, her voice low and determined.
But Kim was already pacing. “This isn’t just perfume. This is psychological warfare. Rob is dating her. She has a baby with my brother. And now she’s releasing a scent called ‘Blast’ the same week we drop ‘Heart’? It’s a direct attack on our brand’s emotional core.”
“Between your blood and your… your scent-stealing baby mama.”
“Get her on the phone,” Kris said calmly.
Kris raised her Diet Coke. “To family. To resilience. And to owning the word ‘spark’ before she does.”
“We didn’t cancel it,” Kim said, her voice shaking. “ She did.”
One week later. A sunny morning. The family is gathered around the pool. Kim holds her phone aloft.
“It’s Blast by Blac Chyna, ” Kim hissed.
Everyone stared at her.
“Choose what?” he mumbled, sauce on his chin.
Kourtney shrugged. “I still don’t care.”
“Rob,” Kim said, “we need you to choose.”
Kendall, who had been silent, suddenly stood up. “You know what? I’m tired of this family treating every little thing like a war crime. It’s perfume. Who cares?”
Sign out