"They took the master drives."
Isabella Rossi stared at the empty mixing console. The digital bays were stripped bare. Heavy optical cables hung uselessly toward the concrete floor.
Her cutting edge runway show was exactly four hours away. The global broadcast satellite was locked and ready. Two billion viewers were waiting for the defining cultural moment of the decade.
"The Big Four label executives cornered my lead audio director in the parking garage," her assistant choked out. "They threatened his family. They promised to blacklist every single technician in the building."
Isabella gripped the edge of the titanium table. She was the reigning queen of high fashion. She dictated what the global elite wore.
But she did not control the sound.
"They made the entire sound department w
