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“It’s Blast by Blac Chyna, ” Kim hissed.

“We own the feeling of ‘blast,’” Khloé shot back. “Our fans see ‘Blast’ and they think us. They think family. They think good vibes. You’re selling a knockoff emotion.”

Rob let out a huge sigh of relief. “Can we please just have dinner together now?”

In the final confessional, Kim looked directly into the lens, her voice low and determined.

“Chyna,” Khloé replied, her voice dripping with passive aggression. “Cute cup. Does it come with a side of intellectual property theft?”

“Blast?” Scott laughed. “Sounds like a cheap energy drink for dads who grill.”

They all clinked glasses. Kim smiled—but her eyes were still calculating. The camera pulled back to reveal a stack of legal documents on a side table: Trademark filing for “Sparkle,” “Flash,” and “Glimmer.”

Cut to: sitting in her office like a silver-haired CEO from a dystopian film. She wore a white blazer so sharp it could cut glass.

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