Chapter 44: Future Pop-singer

We turned our backs on Travis, leaving him slumped over his desk in a cold sweat, staring at the ruin of his control.

As the glass office doors slid shut behind us and we walked down the polished corridor toward the elevators, the heavy, suffocating weight that had crushed Ruby for years suddenly vanished. She stopped near the lobby fountain, her chest heaving with a deep, shuddering breath of pure liberation.

Then, she looked up at me.

She wasn’t crying anymore. Instead, her face was completely lit up, beaming with an intense, radiant smile that made her look entirely different—vibrant, fierce, and utterly captivated.

"Mister," Ruby said softly, stepping a little closer as the elevator chime echoed down the hall. "That... that was incredible. The way you just walked in there and completely dismantled him, without even breaking a sweat... I’ve never seen anyone overpower a monster like that so easily."

I gave her a small, knowing smirk, shoving my hands into my pockets. "Nobody gets to exploit people who actually do the work, Ruby. Especially not you."

She bit her lower lip, her cheeks flushing a soft, warm pink. The teasing, playful tension from earlier flared right back up, but this time, it was stripped of all fear. She tilted her head, locking her luminous eyes onto mine with a bold, wicked little glint.

"You know..." Ruby murmured, her voice dropping to a teasing, breathless whisper as she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Now that I’m completely free... I really wouldn’t mind being by your side as your maid, sir."

I stopped dead in my tracks. I stared at her blankly, blinking once, twice, completely processing the U-turn she had just pulled after fighting tooth and nail against that exact idea ten minutes ago.

"I don’t need a maid," I replied, shaking my head with a dry chuckle as the elevator doors finally slid open.

Right as I said it, a soft chime echoed in my vision, and the system interface flickered back to life, updating the dossier with a sharp, crisp flash:

[ INVESTMENT STATUS UPDATED ]

Debt Liability: Cleared (Travis liquidated via compliance pressure).

Core Investment Strategy: Full-scale artist incubation, vocal training, wardrobe overhaul, brand identity, and production setup.

Target Profile: Elite Pop/R&B Vocalist (System Potential: 9.1).

I stepped into the elevator and looked back at her, studying her tailored corporate blazer, her neat hair, and the composed posture of a high-end real estate closer. She didn’t look like an underground superstar or a stadium-filling diva—she looked like someone who spent her life trapped behind a mahogany desk pushing contracts.

"Hey, Ruby," I asked, hitting the button for the underground garage. "Do you sing?"

Ruby blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in topic. She stepped into the elevator beside me, looking confused. "Sing? I mean... I used to sing in the church choir when I was much younger, and I mess around humming sometimes when I’m stressed, but... why do you ask, sir?"

"Because you have the potential to become an absolute star," I said, watching her expression shift from confusion to sheer disbelief.

Before she could even process what I meant, the elevator reached the ground floor and the doors slid open to the bustling main lobby. As we stepped out toward the glass exit, a sharp voice cut through the air.

"Ruby?"

We both stopped. Strutting toward us was a girl who looked like she had just stepped off a high-fashion runway, dripping in chunky silver accessories, heavy designer headphones resting around her neck, and a daring mini skirt. She took a slow, critical scan of Ruby from head to toe, letting out a sharp, mocking laugh.

"What on earth are you wearing, Ruby? You look like a depressed corporate auditor," she drawled, her tone dripping with effortless, upper-class sass.

Before Ruby could even answer, the girl flicked her gaze over to me, her lips curling into a bold, predatory smile. She leaned in just a fraction closer, letting her eyes rake over my suit.

"Well, hello there, handsome," she purred, batting her eyelashes with zero hesitation.

She snapped her attention back to Ruby, completely unfazed. "Anyway, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I need those new tracks you wrote prepared and polished for me immediately. My studio session is in two hours, so chop-chop."

Without waiting for a reply, she tossed her hair over her shoulder and clicked her heels past us, heading straight down the private corridor toward Travis’s executive office.

I stood there for a second, raising an eyebrow as the glass doors swung shut behind her. "Who was that?"

Ruby exhaled a sharp breath, her hands clenching into tight fists at her sides. The fear from earlier was completely gone, replaced by a sudden, sharp spike of irritation.

"That’s Hailey. Travis’s daughter," Ruby muttered, her voice tight with annoyance. "She fancies herself a pop singer. I’ve been secretly writing and ghost-producing all her hits while she takes all the credit."

"Does she pay you for the songs?" I asked.

Ruby let out a bitter, humorless scoff. "Pay me? I don’t get credits."

She crossed her arms, glaring down the hallway where Hailey had disappeared. But looking at Ruby’s face now, I could tell her anger wasn’t even about the stolen songs anymore—she was glaring down the corridor primarily because Hailey had just tried to openly flirt with me right in front of her.

"One of her tracks pulled in nearly a hundred million streams," I said, remembering the billboard charts playing everywhere last month. "Why didn’t you fight for your rights, or at least take the credit?"

Before Ruby could even answer, the harsh reality of her situation hit me. The answer was already hanging heavy in the air.

Being trapped under her father’s fabricated multi-million-dollar debt meant she had zero leverage. If she had tried to sue Travis, expose the ghost-writing, or walk away with her royalties, his legal machine would have crushed her instantly. She couldn’t afford a high-priced attorney while every cent of her real estate commission was being seized. She had to stay quiet, keep her head down, and survive.

Ruby noticed the realization wash over my face, her shoulders dropping slightly as she looked away, biting her lip.

"I used to sing, you know," she murmured softly, her voice barely carrying over the lobby fountain. "Before the debt, before everything collapsed. I thought I’d left all of that behind me forever."

She looked back up, a quiet, fragile spark of hope flickering in her eyes. "Maybe... maybe I could actually get back to singing. For real this time."

I looked right back at her, shaking my head at how blind she was to her own worth. With a system-verified 9.1 potential rating, she wasn’t just some background ghost-writer feeding tracks to a spoiled brat—she was a multi-platinum powerhouse waiting for the cage door to open.

"You’re not just going back to singing, Ruby," I said quietly, stepping closer as the glass doors to the street opened up. "You’re far more precious than you realize. Let’s get out of here. It’s time to build your own empire."