Reborn as the Billionaires Secret Wife

The voice returns

Selene’s POV

I spent the morning pacing Ronan’s apartment, restless. My mind continued to repeat the message from the previous night. “Stop playing small.”

I had reached the stage in my life when people should see me. Liora had taken my songs, which made me stop hiding. I needed to return my voice to the world, so people would hear my hidden identity.

Ronan worked in the studio while he tested the mixing board equipment which he used with his headphones. He looked up at me when I walked into the room.

I said the words which began with my still rough voice but showed improvement from my previous months.

He raised an eyebrow and asked, “For what?”

I want to sing because I need to show everyone who I really am.

His calm presence helped me to remain focused. “Then let’s do it.”

I walked to the microphone. The microphone brought back memories of my past. The warm air filled the space as the equipment produced low sounds. My hands began to shake when I attempted to move the stand.

“I’m not going to do a perfect version,” I said, more to myself than anyone else. “I just need it raw, emotional, undeniable.”

Ronan gave me a small nod and pressed record. The recording started when the red light began flashing. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and sang.

The music lacked polish. The recording reached a level of perfection which Liora had achieved for her album. But it was me. My voice cracked at points, my breath caught, and my emotions poured into every note. I held the microphone stand tightly with both hands. I could feel all my past suffering and feelings of betrayal and anger flowing out of my body.

I opened my eyes after finishing. Ronan stared at me with a calm but intense gaze.

“That… that was real,” he said finally. “People will hear that, and they’ll feel it.”

I nodded slowly. “The raw material must remain intact, because it conveys genuine truth.”

Ronan leaned toward the computer and pressed some buttons. “The adjustments will change only production and tone, which we need to keep your identity safe. The track will maintain its original essence.

I watched him create the song. He used subtle effects to change the sound levels before he completed the track.

“Now?” I asked.

He nodded. “Now.”

I uploaded the track anonymously to a popular music platform under a new artist alias: Elysia Ray. My hands hovered over the keyboard for a second before hitting “Publish.”

The page instantly refreshed before my eyes. Within minutes, users began to leave comments.

“This feels… real.”

“Much better than the official version.”

“Finally, music with soul.”

A small smile tugged at my lips. The process was successful. The people reacted to the authentic sound of the voice, which conveyed strong emotions. The listeners didn’t recognize me, but the truth reached their ears.

I felt sick after reading the comment which someone had left.

“Why does this sound like the original?”

I froze. My hands hovered over the mouse. My heart skipped a beat. The observers had begun to notice.

I pushed myself back from the chair while I struggled to maintain a calm expression. Ronan noticed immediately.

“Relax,” he said quietly. “It’s inevitable someone will notice similarities. The song is yours. They just hear the soul behind it. That’s all.”

I nodded after swallowing. “I know, but…” My voice faltered for a second. “They might start connecting dots.”

“Let them connect the dots,” he replied firmly. “This is exactly what we want. Their curiosity, questions, and panic will do the work. The seeds you plant will grow through time."

I exhaled slowly and refocused. I had completed my first step. My voice had returned to the world through the use of an alias. The audience was engaged with the music, which made them feel its power. The raw emotion was mine, undeniable.

The comment stayed with me throughout the day. Someone had already recognized something familiar. The listeners didn't understand it was me, yet they recognized the song belonged to someone else.

I looked at Ronan. “What will happen if things move too quickly? What if Liora or her team notices before I’m ready?”

He leaned back, crossing his arms. “Let them notice. That pressure is part of the plan. You’ve held back long enough. Now it’s time for your music to speak.”

I nodded, trying to steady my racing thoughts. My fingers dug into the chair armrest. The anger, the pain, the betrayal—all of it—it was fueling me. Pieces of my identity began to return to me.

I checked the comment again. It had been up for only ten minutes. Already, other users were replying:

“I was thinking the same. The phrasing is too similar to the original.”

“The production is different, though. But it’s uncanny.”

“Who is Elysia Ray? This artist feels… authentic.”

I leaned back and let the feeling wash over me. Yes, the exposure risk was real. But the payoff would be worth it. I had achieved my first time of control in years. My music and my voice and my soul became part of the world through my own decision.

I closed my eyes for a second, letting the raw emotion settle into a quiet determination. The first step was complete. The world listened, even though they remained unaware of our existence.

I opened my eyes and stared at the screen again. The comments kept coming in. The audience began to see how Liora’s polished album version differed from the raw recording.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew Liora’s team would see it soon. They would feel the stirrings of doubt. The first c***k in the armor I had waited so long for was forming, and it was only going to grow.

I spoke to myself in a steady voice, which remained strong despite my years of silence.

“This is just the beginning.”

My phone vibrated beside me. A notification from a new music platform appeared. My heart jumped.

A verified account had liked the song. The comment attached read:

“The world needs more honesty like this. Who is Elysia Ray?”