Chaos at the Concert

Chapter 3 A Clean Break and the Backlash

I spent the night in a plain hotel room with the obsidian cufflink on the nightstand. I didn't sleep. I planned.

I changed every password Liam might know, copied the recording twice, and wrote down the order in which I would move against him.

By dawn, the cufflink was still the one item on the desk I could not explain.

At ten a.m., showered and dressed in a black pantsuit, I walked into Crossfade Records' glass-walled boardroom.

The board members Liam had charmed and I had won over with results were all there. Liam sat at the head of the table, wearing his most sympathetic expression.

Chloe was absent. Her press statement would explain why soon enough.

Several directors avoided my eyes. They had seen the outage, heard whatever Liam told them afterward, and arrived ready to sign. The only open chair was the one farthest from him.

“Aria.” Liam arranged his face into an expression of concern. “I'm glad you came. Given your emotional state last night, we've decided to be generous.”

He slid a single sheet of paper across the polished mahogany table. It was a termination contract, but with a new title hastily typed at the bottom: Junior Sound Technician.

The demotion would leave me working under people I had trained, with no claim over the systems I had designed. Liam had not even bothered to hide the old termination heading properly.

“We'll overlook your little stunt. Publicly, we'll call the outage a technical glitch. You apologize for your unprofessional behavior, take this new role, and we move on. It's the best you're going to get.”

The board members watched in silence. Some looked sorry for me. The others had already accepted Liam's version.

I said nothing.

I walked to the table and met Liam's eyes. The three-carat diamond had been on my hand for six months. I twisted the ring free and set it on the contract.

The small click carried through the room.

Liam glanced at the diamond, then back at me. His prepared expression slipped.

He had expected tears, bargaining, maybe an apology. He had prepared nothing for silence.

I turned and walked out of the room without a backward glance.

The elevator doors had barely closed when my phone buzzed. A message from Liam.

*Don’t be a fool, Aria. You have nothing without me.*

I was still reading it when a second one came through.

*Come back before you make this uglier. You know no one in this city will back you over me. Apologize publicly, and I might still leave you a place at Crossfade.*

I deleted the thread.

Cold rain started as I stepped out of the lobby. At the same time, alerts, social-media tags, and messages from former friends crowded my phone.

**BREAKING: PRODUCER ARIA VANCE FIRED FOR SABOTAGE AND THEFT**

**CHLOE VANCE IN TEARS: “I NEVER THOUGHT MY OWN SISTER WOULD DO THIS TO ME.”**

Chloe's official page showed a professional photo of her clutching a microphone, eyes wet for the camera.

*“I’m devastated by Aria’s actions. Music was the one thing that connected us. To have her try to destroy my career and steal the work we created together has broken my heart. I just hope she gets the help she needs. 💔”*

The comments called me a *thief*, a *jealous snake*, an *ungrateful b***h*. Liam had the press and the public. I had the recording and the master files.

My name was already trending. People I had worked beside for years were reposting Chloe's statement before asking me a single question.

One former friend sent a paragraph about getting help, then blocked me before I could answer.

I pulled up my hood, turned into a quiet alcove, and opened my contacts.

For three years, I'd carried one number on a slip of paper in my wallet. I dialed it.

Arthur had once offered to examine Crossfade's contracts. Liam had laughed at the idea, and I had put the number away. I had kept it anyway.

“Arthur,” I said when he picked up, my voice steady and clear against the sound of the downpour. “It’s Aria Vance.”

There was a pause. “I've been wondering when you'd call,” said the city's most ruthless corporate lawyer.

“We’re moving forward,” I said. “It’s a clean sweep. Copyright infringement, breach of contract, and I’m certain we’ll find significant financial fraud if we start digging.”

I looked back at the hundred-story Crossfade Tower. Rain ran into my eyes.

“I want to burn it to the ground, Arthur. Then I want to rebuild from the ashes.”