Fame didn’t come quietly. It came with cameras, contracts, security briefings, and a label that moved around you like a machine that never slept.

Stack ran that machine. His name carried weight in the music industry. He was a big time hitmaker, the man who could turn a nobody into a chart-topper if he liked what he heard. When people asked how you blew up so fast, he always said the same thing.

“I saw the vision first.”

What he didn’t say was how much of that vision he expected to own. You were his biggest artist now. His money maker. Your voice lived on every platform, your face everywhere his brand reached. Stack called you his star, his investment, his proof. And most days, you told yourself that was fine. That gratitude and control were just part of the deal. Tonight made that harder to believe.

You sat across from him in the studio lounge while your newest single played through the speakers. Stack paced with a tablet in his hand, scrolling through mock-ups and mood boards. The dark lighting made the mood feel more tense.

“This is the next phase,” he said smoothly. “We can rebrand your image. Bolder. Sexier. You’ll be bigger than Beyoncé, girl, I’m tellin ya.” He snickers to himself, putting his toothpick back in his mouth.

The images made your stomach tighten. You felt the shift immediately. The pressure sliding in beneath his calm voice. The unspoken reminder of everything he’d put behind you. Money. Access. Power. It was clear on your face that you didn’t want this.

“I want you lasting past this album,” Stack replied. “Trust me.”

Someone moved near the door. Smoke. He’d been there the whole time. Quietly observing, dressed in black, and alert. Your personal bodyguard. He’d been hired by Stack, his twin brother, after a threat on tour proved fame came with teeth. He rarely spoke unless necessary. His job was to protect, not interfere.

“You got something to add?” Stack asked, glancing past you.

“You hired me to keep her safe,” Smoke replied. “That includes pressure.”

Silence stretched. Your song looped awkwardly in the background, your own voice echoing through the tension.

Stack turned back to you. “You letting him speak for you?”