The next morning, Spencer Hastings woke up with a purpose.

Last night had been a lot—Big Time Rush had the audacity to not only humiliate them in public but also stalk them at her own property and flip them off. Logan Mitchell flipping her off through a sunroof was going to haunt her until her dying breath.

But today? Today was about peace. For at least thirty minutes.

Spencer stretched, inhaling deeply before rolling out of bed. The sunlight filtering through the curtains of her and Toby's home felt deceptively calm, like the universe was mocking her.

She padded downstairs in fuzzy socks and threw on a cardigan before heading to the kitchen to make coffee.

Toby Cavanaugh—her loving husband who had stuck by her through multiple murder investigations, fake deaths, and a British evil twin fiasco—was already sitting at the kitchen table. His dark hair was damp from his morning shower, and he was lazily scrolling on his iPad, sipping his own coffee.

"Morning, babe," Spencer said as she kissed the top of his head and placed a fresh cup of coffee in front of him.

Toby smiled up at her. "Marrying you was the best decision of my life."

Spencer smirked. "I know." She leaned against the counter, stretching her arms. "I need to decompress today. Last night was a lot."

Toby raised an eyebrow. "You mean the boy band feud you and the girls started?"

Spencer groaned, rubbing her temples. "Don't remind me. I need at least one hour before I start planning my revenge."

Toby chuckled, shaking his head. "I still can't believe you managed to pick a fight with Nickelodeon's golden boys."

Spencer scoffed. "First of all, they started it. Second, they're menaces to society. And third—"

DING.

Toby's iPad screen refreshed with a new TMZ notification.

Spencer watched as Toby's expression changed.

"What?" she asked.

Toby squinted at the screen. Then, his eyebrows furrowed. Then, his jaw clenched.

"...You're gonna wanna see this," he muttered, tilting the iPad towards her.

Spencer leaned forward and froze.

Right there, on TMZ's front page, was the headline:

BIG TIME RUSH DISS PRETTY LITTLE LIARS AFTER ROSEWOOD CONCERT DRAMA.

Her stomach dropped.

She snatched the iPad out of Toby's hands and scrolled furiously.

The article included a video—which she immediately played.

The screen lit up with Kendall, James, Carlos, and Logan sitting in what looked like a fancy hotel lounge.

An interviewer—probably some D-list social media guy—grinned at them.

"So, you guys had a little incident with some well-known ladies last night?"

James laughed first. "Oh, you mean the Pretty Little Mean Girls?"

Carlos cackled. "Man, I thought they were gonna fight us in the parking lot."

Kendall grinned. "I think Spencer Hastings was ready to throw hands."

Spencer nearly chucked the iPad across the kitchen.

Toby grabbed it out of her hands before she could commit a crime.

"Wait—wait—keep watching," he said.

Spencer folded her arms, seething, as she watched Logan—the human menace himself—speak.

"I mean," Logan smirked, leaning back on the couch, "they were just mad because we're more famous than them."

James howled with laughter.

Kendall smirked. "I mean, let's be real—what even is the last thing they did? A reunion for HBO Max?"

Carlos snorted. "They're washed up. We're still selling out tours."

Spencer's eye twitched.

"Oh. Oh, hell no."

The video continued.

The interviewer smirked. "So, no chance of a friendship forming between you guys?"

James smirked directly at the camera.

"Yeah, no. They're bitter. And I don't trust people who don't respect Famous as a cultural reset."

The video ended.

Spencer was SILENT.

Toby? Toby was FUMING.

Toby—the world's most patient man—slammed the iPad down onto the table so hard the coffee mugs rattled.

"Are you KIDDING ME?!"

Spencer blinked. "Toby?"

Toby stood up, fuming on her behalf. "Oh, I KNOW these grown-ass men did not just—"

Spencer raised an eyebrow. "Wait… are you mad for me?"

Toby's hands were on his hips like a suburban dad about to file a noise complaint.

"OF COURSE I AM! WHO DO THEY THINK THEY ARE?!"

Spencer stared at him in awe.

Toby was never this outwardly emotional about celebrity drama—but this? This had pushed him over the edge.

"They called you washed up!" Toby yelled. "SPENCER, THEY SAID YOU'RE WASHED UP."

"Well, technically—"

"And then they said they're more famous? Oh, oh really? REALLY?!" Toby grabbed his phone, furiously googling. "Let's check something real quick—OH LOOK. You guys had a hit TV show that changed pop culture, and they had—oh right, a Nickelodeon sitcom about singing hockey players!"

Spencer smirked. "I love you so much right now."

Toby pointed a very aggressive finger at the iPad. "We are not letting this slide, Spencer."

Spencer picked up her phone. "Oh, don't worry. The girls are about to hear about this."

THE GROUP CHAT: PRETTY LITTLE PETTINESS.

Spencer: Emergency. Call now.

Alison: Spence, it's 9 AM. Who died?

Hanna: If it's about BTR, I don't wanna hear it, I'm still mad.

Emily: I swear if you say they texted again—

Mona: I'm already plotting.

Aria: Why are we still talking about these losers?

Spencer: CHECK TMZ RIGHT NOW.

[SPENCER HASTINGS SENT A LINK.]

Thirty seconds later, Hanna FaceTimed her.

Hanna's face of pure RAGE appeared on screen.

"I WANT THEM DEAD."

Spencer laughed maniacally. "So, we're agreed?"

Alison, joining the call, smirked. "Oh, we're so agreed."

Mona, grinning, sipped a mimosa. "Let's make their lives hell."

Emily groaned but nodded. "Fine. I'm in."

Aria sighed. "I can't believe I'm saying this but… they have to pay."

Spencer grinned. "Ladies, the war has officially begun."

Toby fist-pumped in the background. "GET 'EM, BABE."

And just like that, The Pretty Little Petty War was in motion.