Chapter 57: The Real Artist Entrance

"And on that note, we’re taking a quick break for our live musical showcase!" the host announced smoothly into his camera. "Hailey Sterling is about to give us an exclusive, world-first live performance of her lead single before the official midnight drop!"

The stage lights dimmed, shifting into deep violet and gold. Hailey swept across the floor, stepping up to the raised center platform flanked by a full live band, complete with acoustic drums, backing vocalists, and dramatic smoke machines. She grabbed the custom gold-plated microphone off its stand, tossing her hair back with an arrogant smirk, ready to blow the studio away and erase the host’s interrogation from everyone’s minds.

The band struck the heavy opening chord. The drums thundered through the studio.

Hailey lifted the gold mic to her lips, drawing a deep breath to hit the belt: "When the sky starts to burn—"

Nothing.

Absolute silence echoed through the monitors.

Hailey paused, her eyes flashing with instant rage as she tapped the golden capsule. She tried again, leaning heavily into the mesh. "When the sky—"

Still dead. The sound technician in the wings—who had taken a very generous cash transfer from my account twenty minutes ago—simply shrugged with a look of helpless confusion, muttering into his headset about a phantom wiring failure.

Off-stage, Travis started screaming at the stage manager, his face turning a deep, dangerous purple as the live broadcast cameras kept rolling, capturing Hailey standing on stage looking entirely helpless without her backing tracks.

Then, from the darkness of the stage-left entrance, a quiet heel-tap echoed against the wooden floorboards.

The studio crowd went dead silent as a figure stepped out from the shadows into the main spotlight.

Ruby had removed her hat and lace veil, letting her face show clearly under the blinding stage lights. She wore no flashy gold jewelry, no heavy crimson gown—just pure, effortless grace. Slung over her shoulder was her acoustic guitar, and in her right hand, she held the only live wireless microphone currently patched directly into the main broadcast board.

Hailey froze, her jaw literally dropping as her blood ran completely cold.

"Ruby...?" Hailey whispered, her voice unamplified and completely drowned out by the quiet murmur spreading across the audience.

Ruby didn’t even look at her. She walked straight to the center of the stage, adjusted the mic stand to her height, and looked directly into the primary broadcast camera with absolute, unflinching calm.

She tapped the mic once. A crisp, crystal-clear reverberation boomed through every speaker in the studio—and into millions of homes worldwide.

"Let me show you how it’s actually sung," Ruby said softly.

She struck the first acoustic chord on her guitar, and the room completely held its breath.

Ruby’s fingers glided over the acoustic strings, pulling out a soft, aching intro that echoed through the silent studio. She started slow, her opening line a quiet, silky melody that hit the room like a cold breeze:

"You took the words right out of my mouth, built a house out of my ghost..."

Her voice was liquid gold—pure, flawless, and carrying a raw emotional weight that no studio polish could ever fake. Within three lines, the atmosphere in the studio completely shifted.

The live band members, initially frozen by the technical malfunction, looked at each other in utter awe. Slowly, the keyboardist began tapping a delicate rhythm under her chords. The bassist picked up the groove, and the drummer lightly joined in with a brushed snare, entirely hypnotized by her control. They didn’t care about the script anymore; they were musicians, and they knew real talent when they heard it.

Up in the VIP box, I leaned back in my leather seat, swirling my champagne glass with a triumphant smirk. Watching Travis’s face completely unravel from up here was pure art.

Down in the studio, the crowd started whispering, heads turning as people pulled out their phones.

"Wait... who is she?"

"Is that the girl from the acoustic covers?!"

"Hold on... what song is this? I’ve never heard this track before!"

Hailey stood frozen on the side of the stage, her face dead pale, her hands trembling around her useless gold microphone as the entire world watched her lead single being unveiled by its true creator.

The studio went completely electric. What was supposed to be a polished corporate launch had transformed into a raw, unstoppable concert. The live audience was on their feet, swaying to the beat, completely lost in the sheer beauty of Ruby’s vocals. Even the camera crew had stop-motion grins, panning the lenses to capture the magic unfolding on stage.

Off to the side, Hailey was unraveling in real time. Sweat was glistening through her heavy makeup, and her breath came in sharp, panicked hitches. She looked like a ghost trapped in a red dress. Knowing her career was crumbling in front of millions of live viewers, she frantically tried to wave her arms at the floor director, screaming silently for them to cut the broadcast. But nobody stopped. The band kept playing, the cameras kept rolling, and the audio engineer ignored Travis’s red-faced tantrums from the wings.

Ruby brought the final bridge to a soaring, chilling crescendo, holding the high note with effortless grace before dropping into a soft, resonant acoustic fadeout.

The studio erupted into wild, deafening applause.

As the claps thundered through the room, Ruby didn’t take a bow. She slowly turned around, unslung her guitar, and took five slow, deliberate steps toward Hailey. The live broadcast cameras followed every inch of her movement, zooming in tight on the two of them.

Hailey stumbled back a half-step, her chest heaving as Ruby stopped right in front of her, holding out the working microphone.

"You said you wrote every lyric from the deepest part of your soul, Hailey," Ruby said, her voice carrying clearly through every broadcast speaker in the world. "So why don’t you sing the chorus right now? Without the backing track. Without me."

Hailey stared at the mic as if it were a loaded gun. Her lip trembled, but not a single sound came out of her mouth. Humiliation hit her like a tidal wave.

Ruby cast a cool look toward the massive studio wall monitor. The digital clock was counting down the final moments to midnight—the global release of Hailey’s album.

00:00:08...

00:00:05...

00:00:02...

00:00:00.

"It’s midnight," Ruby whispered, looking back at Hailey with absolute victory in her eyes. "Your album just dropped. And the whole world finally knows who wrote it."