Chapter 254 - 254: Secret Meeting

<🎧 Song Recommendation: For Her by Trippie Redd, Rema>

...

Rain drizzled on the roads as the Maybach rolled toward the Toronto Pearson Airport.

Von leaned back into the leather seat and closed his eyes.

The first epiphany had clicked after he had to sing quietly in the hospital room.

Before this, he had been overcomplicating I Just Might Be Dreaming. He had spent hours adding distorted layers, heavy synth pads, and dense drum fills to force energy into the chorus.

He didn't need to add anything. He needed to take everything away.

The fix was simple: cut the pre-chorus completely dry. Two full beats of silence without drums or instruments.

He could imagine a quiet and isolated whisper, 'I just might be dreaming...' before dropping straight into a heavy, earth-shaking sub-bass glide.

The contrast alone would hit harder than any loud buildup ever could.

A faint smile touched Von's lips. The song was almost ready for Orlando.

Then his thoughts drifted back to Nora, sitting small and frail beneath her knitted beanie in Room 414.

That was where the second epiphany hit him.

Von knew exactly what it felt like to have a body that was losing. In his past life he might not have died to cancer, but he had also died after his body failed him.

He knew what it was to run out of answers.

And cancer had still been standing when he died. He didn't know how close anyone had ever gotten. He had never followed the research or cared enough to check. All he knew for certain was that it had outlived him.

Dan Viking could pick up a phone and open the doors of every major venue operator in Europe, Australia, and Asia. He held equity in the building Von was scheduled to play in November and had said out loud that he could buy the whole thing if he wanted to.

None of it could get his daughter out of that room for one hour.

Human medicine couldn't do it yet.

'Human medicine can't,' Von thought, his pulse picking up. 'But what about the System?'

He had never asked for the H-19 Panacea Formula. He had simply pulled a Lottery Ticket and a complete synthesized blueprint for the cure of a global pandemic had simply dropped into his inventory like a prize at a carnival.

Which meant it had already been in there. Sitting somewhere underneath the stat panels and the shop vouchers, waiting for a random roll.

If a virus that shut down the planet was in that pool, what else was?

Von drew a slow breath, forcing his racing heart to steady.

'Calm down,' he told himself. 'It's not going to be easy.'

He didn't have any plan yet. Also, unlocking something that big would require astronomical EXP unless the System could gift it to him. He was standing at the base of an impossible mountain in the dark with no idea how tall it was.

'But the mountain exists. There is a path.'

And that path started with completing The Uncrowned Tour, maximizing his Momentum multiplier, and scoring high on every single performance.

"Von?"

Olivia's voice cut through his thoughts.

"We're here. Pearson Airport."

Von opened his eyes and slipped his sunglasses on. "Let's head back to Miami. We've got work to do."

***

[Miami, Florida — 10:15 AM]

Inside the quiet second-floor office at the Pinecrest Mansion, Emily stood by the window with the blinds drawn tight.

A phone buzzed against the desk.

She let it ring twice before picking it up.

"He's in Toronto," a low, gravelly voice came through the line. "Our people confirmed the flight. If we're meeting, it has to be tonight."

Emily's jaw tightened. She was prepared for this already, but still decided to try her luck. "I told you I wouldn't leave until after the first leg of the tour."

"The schedule changed," the voice replied flatly. "You want those stuff or not?"

Emily closed her eyes and exhaled slowly.

"Send the location. I'm on my way."

***

It was eleven in the morning, but Max was still sprawled flat across his bed. He had been mindlessly scrolling through ThatsApp, his favorite way to burn time and procrastinate, even when he had nobody to text.

"Dammit, rehearsals start at four," Max groaned into his pillow.

His entire week was drowning in tour prep. Why had he volunteered to dance on top of his regular workload anyway? Von was going to steal the entire show regardless.

Max told himself he was just a couple of scrolls away from actually getting up when a notification flashed in one of his favorite group chats. It was a ridiculous riddle, and the moment he read it, his eyes lit up.

"Oh, yes. I have to hear what she says."

Emily was the first person who came to mind.

Max tapped her contact and called.

It rang until it went to voicemail. He dialed again. Voicemail. By the fourth call, Max was determined. He hit redial for the fifth time, and just as it reached the last ring, the line clicked open.

"What is it, Max?" Emily's voice came through with annoyance. "I really hope this is urgent."

"Not exactly, but I bet you want to hear this," Max said cheerfully.

"Max, I don't have—"

"Okay, so I've been thinking about this for like an hour and I need a real answer."

"...What."

"If Von and I both fell in the water, and you could only save one of us—"

"Max."

"—and I want you to actually think about it, because he can probably swim, but so can I. So in this scenario, neither of us can swim, the current is wild, and—"

"Are you serious right now?"

"Completely serious! This is life or death, Emily. Choose."

A long silence stretched over the line. Max could literally hear her breathing out through her nose in pure frustration.

"I am hanging up."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Max laughed, rolling onto his back. "You didn't answer! Silence is an answer, you know! Where are you even? Where are you that you can't take thirty seconds to save my life—"

Emily's gaze lifted from the paper boarding pass in her hand.

The airport gate stretched out in front of her. Screens glowed overhead, a family was arguing over a stroller by the windows, and a man in a suit lay fast asleep across three terminal seats.

'I can't tell him I'm at an airport.'

"I'm in a meeting," she said smoothly.

"On a Saturday morning?"

"Yes."

As if to spite her, the overhead intercom chimed with a clear chime at that moment:

{This is the final boarding call for passengers on Flight 412. All ticketed passengers must board through Gate B7 immediately...}

Max bolted upright in bed. "AH-HA! Busted! YOU LIED TO ME!"

"That's the TV," Emily said in a quick rush of panic, instantly regretting answering the call.

"THE TV?! In a MEETING?!"

"I have to go, Max. I'm busy."

Click.

The call ended.

Max stared down at his phone screen. He lowered it slowly onto the mattress, brought his hands up, and folded them over his mouth.

"Something is wrong," he muttered to the empty room. "And I can definitely tell."

He got out of bed and began pacing the carpet with his chin tucked to his chest, moving with the weight of a man carrying classified information.

He walked to the window and stared at the empty driveway. He turned and marched back to the closet. Then he stopped dead in the center of the rug, his eyes going wide.

"She's definitely at the airport."

He pointed a single finger at the empty air.

"And I know exactly why."

Max spun on his heel and pointed straight at his reflection in the dark window glass.

"She's going to Canada this morning. That woman is getting on a plane to surprise that man on an important trip, which means the two of them have been running a secret romance this entire time, which means—"

Max gasped and slapped both hands over his mouth.

"—that's why she made him travel in the first place!"

He sank slowly onto the edge of the mattress, shaking his head with a devastated expression.

"Those two... Nobody tells me anything."

***

[Los Angeles — 3:15 PM]

A nondescript black sedan pulled up to the curb outside a discreet, private lounge tucked away off the expressway.

The rear door clicked open, and Emily stepped out with dark sunglasses shielding her eyes. She walked inside, passing through the dim, air-conditioned hallway toward the private back room.

In the corner booth, a figure sat waiting in the shadows. A wide-brimmed black hat was pulled low over his face, hiding his eyes. A thin trail of smoke curled up from the cigarette resting between his fingers.

Emily walked straight to the table, staying on her feet.

"What was so urgent that we couldn't handle it over a call?" Emily demanded in an icy tone. "If anyone tracks this flight, do you know what kind of mess this creates?"

The man didn't move right away.

He took a slow, deep drag from his cigarette, and a low, raspy chuckle rumbled from his chest.

"Always so tense, Emily," the man said smoothly. "You used to have a lot more patience back when you were hungry."

He raised a hand and casually tossed the hat onto the table, exhaling a thick cloud of grey smoke toward the ceiling.

Intimidating tattoos curled up both of his dark forearms and ran all the way up the left side of his neck, set off by a heavy diamond pendant resting against his chest.

Rayan West.

The billionaire mogul leaned back against the leather cushion, a mocking grin spreading across his face as he tapped his cigarette over the ashtray.

"Tell me something," Rayan asked softly. "Aren't you tired of playing the good manager, Emily?"