Jelly Roll Admitted to Cheating on His Wife to Millions. But He Allegedly Won’t Say Sorry to One Woman

On Valentine’s Day, Nicole Arbour posted a video on X addressed directly to Jelly Roll. No screaming. No tears. But not exactly composed either — somewhere between measured and theatrical, with a tone that leaned more into exasperation than outrage.

But this wasn’t just a woman asking for an apology. That part, she says, is old news — she asked, and claims she was turned down. What she’s doing now is something more pointed: publicly requesting Jelly Roll’s permission to post what she describes as an alleged hush money agreement he sent her. She says when she refused to sign it, he allegedly threatened to sue.

She wants the document out in the open. She wants people to “know who you really are behind the scenes.” And she’s framing the whole thing as a dare — if the deal doesn’t exist, she’d have nothing to post. If it does, let her share it.

The video hit nearly 1.2 million views and over 900 comments within two hours. And the line everyone keeps quoting — “cosplay Christians be cosplay Christianing” — is already taking on a life of its own.

But there’s another line that’s getting less attention and might matter more. Arbour specifically references Jelly Roll being “saved” and then pivots to AA: “Even if you’re just going with AA, you want to make things right with people that you’ve wronged.” She’s not just challenging his faith. She’s challenging his sobriety narrative too — and making amends is literally one of the twelve steps.

One more thing she keeps repeating: she says she doesn’t even know him. “Especially when I don’t know you guys,” she says early in the video, and then again — “which is so strange to do to a woman that you don’t know.” She’s framing herself as a stranger who wandered into someone else’s crosshairs, not a scorned insider with a personal vendetta.

The Lose-Lose-Lose

Think about the position Jelly Roll is in right now.
If he apologizes, he validates five years of claims he’s never acknowledged. His legal team won’t let that happen — an apology in a situation like this isn’t just a moral gesture, it’s a legal admission.

If he stays silent — which has been his strategy for five years — Arbour gets to keep pointing at that silence as proof. And the longer a man who literally confesses things for a living refuses to address one woman’s claims, the weirder it looks. This is someone who admitted to cheating on Bunnie XO on a podcast last October. He told Joe Rogan in December that he could feel himself dying. He went before Congress to talk about fentanyl. Vulnerability is his entire thing. So why does this particular conversation get the lawyer treatment?

And if he sues? A multimillionaire country star taking legal action against a woman who says she just wanted a sorry is the kind of headline that writes itself — and not in his favor.

The Credibility Question

Now, before anyone canonizes Nicole Arbour — let’s be clear about something. Her track record is complicated, and not just in this feud.

Arbour dated Tommy Vext, former frontman of Bad Wolves, and initially defended him against domestic violence allegations from another ex, Whitney Johns — allegations that led to a court granting Johns a two-year restraining order. Arbour later reversed course and said she believed Johns. Vext called it a “spiteful publicity stunt” and claimed Arbour had thrown a phone at his head.

Then there’s Ryan Upchurch. That relationship also ended in legal wreckage — she filed a federal copyright lawsuit claiming she co-wrote songs on his album, he accused her of abuse and theft, and he cancelled an entire year of touring over the fallout.

Here’s where Jelly Roll enters: Bunnie XO brought both Vext and Upchurch onto Dumb Blonde to tell their side. In Arbour’s telling, Bunnie and Jelly Roll platformed the men she’d accused of mistreating her and dismissed her entirely. That’s what she says lit the fuse.

So the pattern is hard to ignore — multiple relationships ending in public accusations, lawsuits, and scorched earth on all sides. She compared Jelly Roll to Diddy in 2024 with nothing to support it. She’s posted and deleted alleged receipts. Bunnie XO has dismissed her as someone making content “for views.” Arbour herself seems aware of how this looks — she acknowledged in the video that some of his fans think she’s “just being a crazy woman and making this all up.”

And that’s fair. All of those things can be true.

But they don’t answer the one question Arbour keeps asking, and the one Jelly Roll keeps not answering: does the alleged hush money document exist?

Because if it doesn’t, Arbour just handed his legal team the cleanest defamation case imaginable. She’s on camera claiming it’s real. If she’s bluffing, that bluff has an expiration date.

And if it does exist? Then we’re having a very different conversation — one where a man who sells accountability to millions allegedly tried to buy one woman’s silence.

The Clock Is Ticking

Arbour ended her video with a promise: anything Jelly Roll or his lawyers send her going forward gets posted publicly, immediately. She’s essentially daring him to engage, knowing that engagement creates evidence, and evidence creates content, and content creates the one thing she’s been fighting for this entire time — proof that she wasn’t making it up.

Whether you believe Nicole Arbour or not, you have to admit the positioning is sharp. She’s not asking for money. She’s not asking for fame. She’s asking for the exact thing Jelly Roll has made millions selling to everyone else.

And five years in, he still apparently can’t give it to her.