Chapter 2

My phone vibrated violently inside my soaked pocket.

"Liam," I croaked, my voice terribly raw. "I want to come home."

On the other end, my brother's voice sounded overjoyed. "Clara? Really? You're finally... I'm coming to pick you up right now!"

"Give me ten more days," I said softly, wiping the rain from my face. "Just ten days."

Sitting in that freezing studio for hours had taken its toll, and a fever hit me hard. I choked down a few pills and collapsed into bed.

My mind involuntarily drifted back eight years.

"Why can't it be me?"

I had clutched Julian's sleeve back then, tears choking my voice. "I can be the frontwoman. I can learn choreography. I'll learn whatever it takes."

"Can't you just stop finding other girls? Can't it just be me?"

He had pulled his hand away, looking me up and down with cool detachment. "You're too plain, Clara. The camera wouldn't love you."

Back then, I was five-foot-four and barely weighed ninety-five pounds.

After that, I starved myself for three days straight.

On the fourth day, I blacked out in the middle of a recording session. When I woke up, I was at his family estate. It was the only time I had ever stepped foot inside that house.

He had gently fed me soup.

"Stop torturing yourself. I'm going to make a lot of stars, and I'll have plenty of flings, but you will always be my greatest partner. In the end, the only woman standing by my side will be you."

Back then, I was stupid enough to mistake that cruelty for a promise.

The vibration of my phone dragged me back to reality.

A text from Julian: [Tomorrow morning, 9:00 AM sharp.]

The next morning, Mia arrived at the studio before me, happily munching on greasy takeout dumplings.

"You can't eat in here."

That was Julian's sacred rule.

His obsession with music bordered on pathological; he believed food grease and crumbs contaminated the sanctuary of his sound gear.

Once, I had brought in a sandwich, and he smashed his mug on the floor: "Do that again, and I'll throw you and your trash out on the street!"

Mia rolled her eyes. "Who asked you?"

The door clicked open, and Julian walked in holding a bakery bag.

"Julian!" Mia immediately whined, running up to him. "She yelled at me!"

I braced myself for his explosion.

Instead, he gently set the bag on the soundboard. "I bought you some warm pastries. Eat them while they're fresh."

I froze in disbelief.

"No way," Mia pouted. "I'll get fat."

"A little weight looks good on you." He pinched her cheek affectionately. "I like you soft."

My stomach churned.

You're too plain, Clara. The camera wouldn't love you.

Mia weighed at least fifteen pounds more than I did.

"Let's get to work," Julian said, clapping his hands.

During the bridge, Mia suddenly waved her hands to cut the take. "Can we add a male harmony here?"

"Whatever you want."

"I want you to sing it with me!" She shook his arm playfully. "Just a tiny part, please?"

Because of his status and the constant swarm of paparazzi, Julian was obsessively private.

He almost never showed his face in public, let alone recorded his own vocals, just to keep the press from digging into his personal life.

Last year, when my appendix nearly burst and I needed emergency surgery, the hospital required a family member's authorization.

The nurse called him from my phone. He refused to say a single word on the line to confirm who he was.

In the end, Liam had to race across states to sign the release forms.

The doctor said that if he'd arrived thirty minutes later, sepsis would have killed me.

And now, Julian simply nodded. "Alright. I'll sing it with you."

I stared down at the lyrics, my grip crumpling the edges of the paper.

I never imagined that this was how I would finally share my very first duet with Julian.

By three in the afternoon, the session was finally wrapped.

"Sounds amazing," Julian said, saving the master project files. "Mia, your charisma on screen is going to make this a viral sensation."

Mia shot me a smug, triumphant smirk. "I think so too! It's like I actually sang it myself!"

I quietly packed my bag and slipped out.

Whatever. My only job was to ghost the vocals. The PR and release rollout were Julian's problems.

When I got home, rain started drumming against the windowpane again.

In the dead of night, halfway between sleep and consciousness, my phone violently rang.

It was Julian's assistant. "Clara, get to the studio right now! Instantly! Mr. Vance is furious. You'd better be here in ten minutes!"