Moon's Betrayal

Chapter5

Elena's POV

Three weeks of training had turned me into someone I barely recognized.

I could walk in six-inch heels without wobbling. I knew which fork to use at fancy dinners. I could smile for the cameras and answer interview questions without stammering. My voice had gotten stronger, more controlled, under the guidance of Adrian's vocal coach.

But tonight was the real test.

"Remember," Adrian adjusted his cufflinks in the mirror of his penthouse. "You're not Elena Rivera from East LA anymore. You're Elena Rivera, Knight Records' newest discovery. Act like you belong there."

I smoothed down my dress – a stunning red number that cost more than Papa's monthly mortgage payments. "What if I mess up?"

"You won't."

"But what if—"

Adrian was suddenly in front of me, his hands on my shoulders, those intense gray-blue eyes boring into mine. "Elena. You're going to walk into that room like you own it. You're going to sing like your life depends on it. And everyone there is going to remember your name."

His confidence was infectious. When he looked at me like that, I almost believed I could do anything.

"Ready?"

The charity gala was being held at the Beverly Hills Hotel, and every important person in the LA music scene was there. I recognized faces from magazine covers and red carpets, people whose songs I'd grown up listening to.

"Stay close," Adrian murmured as we walked through the crowd. His hand was on the small of my back, warm and possessive.

"Adrian Knight!" A woman's voice cut through the conversation. I turned to see a blonde approaching us, wearing a dress that probably cost more than my yearly salary. She was beautiful in that polished, perfect way that screamed money and breeding.

"Kelly," Adrian's voice went carefully neutral. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

"I go everywhere you go, you know that." Her smile was bright and possessive. "Daddy thought it would be good for me to support your new... project." Her eyes slid to me like I was something unpleasant she'd found on her shoe. "And you must be the little charity case everyone's whispering about."

"Elena Rivera," I extended my hand, but Kelly barely glanced at it.

"How... sweet." Kelly stepped closer to Adrian, her hand trailing up his arm. "You always did like your little rescue projects. Remember how you tried to save that stray cat in college?" She laughed, the sound sharp as breaking glass. "This one might last longer than a few weeks."

She walked away before I could respond, but not before I caught her whisper to Adrian: "Call me later, darling. We have so much to discuss about our future."

"Ignore her," Adrian said, but I caught him watching Kelly's retreating figure with an expression I couldn't read.

"She's beautiful."

"She's poison." His attention snapped back to me. "You're on in ten minutes."

The stage was small, intimate, with just a piano and a single spotlight. As I walked toward it, my legs felt like jelly. Three hundred of the most powerful people in the music industry were watching me, waiting for me to prove I belonged here.

Or fail spectacularly.

I sat at the piano, adjusted the microphone, and found Adrian in the crowd. He was standing near the back, his arms crossed, his face unreadable.

"This song," I said into the microphone, my voice steadier than I felt, "is for everyone who's ever lost something precious and had to find the strength to keep going."

I started with a simple melody, letting my fingers find the keys while my voice began soft, almost vulnerable. It was a song I'd written the night after Papa died, raw and full of grief but also hope.

"In the darkness, I hear whispers of who I used to be..."

As the song built, my confidence grew. The crowd was silent, completely focused on every note. I forgot about Kelly's sneer, forgot about my nerves, forgot about everything except the music pouring out of me.

When the last note faded, the room erupted in applause.

I stood on shaking legs, managed a small bow, and walked off the stage feeling like I was floating.

"Elena Rivera, everyone!" The host's voice boomed over the sound system. "Knight Records' newest star!"

Adrian was waiting for me backstage, and for the first time since I'd met him, he looked genuinely impressed.

"Not bad," he said.

"Not bad?" I laughed, giddy with adrenaline. "I think I actually pulled it off!"

"You did more than that." His eyes were dark, intense. "You made them believe."

Before I could respond, Marcus appeared beside us. I'd met Adrian's cousin briefly during my training sessions – he was handsome in a sharp, dangerous way that made me instinctively nervous.

"Beautiful performance, Elena," Marcus said, but something in his tone felt off. "Very... emotional."

"Thank you."

"Adrian, Kelly's looking for you. Something about wanting to apologize for earlier."

Adrian's jaw tightened. "Tell her I'm busy."

"I think you should hear what she has to say," Marcus pressed. "It sounded important."

"I'll handle Kelly later." Adrian's hand found mine, his fingers intertwining with my own. "Right now, I'm celebrating my artist's success."

The possessiveness in his voice made my stomach flutter.

"Of course," Marcus smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'll let her know."

As he walked away, I felt Adrian's grip on my hand tighten.

"What was that about?" I asked.

"Nothing you need to worry about." But Adrian was watching his cousin's retreating figure with suspicion. "Come on. Let's get some champagne. You earned it."

As we walked back into the crowd, people stopped us every few feet. Congratulations, business cards, requests for meetings. My head spun with attention.

"Elena Rivera!" A man with a recorder appeared in front of us. "James Walsh, LA Music Weekly. How does it feel to go from homeless to Hollywood in three weeks?"

The question hit like a slap. "I... I'm sorry?"

"Our sources say you were living on the streets before Mr. Knight discovered you. Any comment on how you've managed such a dramatic transformation?"

Adrian stepped between us immediately. "This interview is over."

"Mr. Knight, is it true that Miss Rivera is more than just your artist? Our sources suggest—"

"Security!" Adrian's voice cut through the noise like a whip.

As we were escorted away from the reporter, I felt the carefully constructed confidence of the evening crumble.

"How did he know?" I whispered.

Adrian's face was stone. "Someone told him."

"Who would—" I stopped, remembering Marcus's smile, Kelly's predatory look.

"I don't know yet," Adrian said, his voice deadly quiet. "But I'm going to find out."

As our car pulled away from the hotel, I realized my fairy tale night had just turned into something much more complicated.

And dangerous.