The walls were made of glass.Not metaphorically—actual glass. The kind that makes you feel like every move, every breath, is being watched.
Liam sat across from a woman in her early thirties—suit crisp, hair tied back, tablet glowing with analytics and graphs.
Her name was Rhea Vale. Everline's rising A&R rep. Sharp eyes. Voice like velvet over steel.
Nova sat beside Liam, tapping her foot under the table like a nervous metronome.
"So," Rhea said, setting the tablet aside, "let's skip the formalities. You've got talent. Your sound's authentic. Your lyrics cut deep. But we need to know—"
Her eyes locked with Liam's.
"What do you want, L.C.?"
He didn't answer right away.
Instead, he asked: "Do you know what it feels like to scream into silence?"
Rhea blinked, caught off guard.
Liam continued. "To pour everything into a song… and have no one hear it? No applause. No views. No recognition. Just… emptiness."
"I do," she said quietly.
"Then you know why I won't sell my sound."
Terms on the Table
They didn't offer a contract that day.They offered a trial.
One week of studio time. Three sessions.One producer: Ace Maddox, known for launching indie artists who refused to conform.
If Liam clicked with Ace? They'd talk deals.
If not?
No strings. Just experience.
Later That Night – Nova's Garage
"You gonna do it?" Nova asked as Liam tightened the strings on his guitar.
He looked at her.
"I'm not here to get signed," he said. "I'm here to build something bigger."
Nova smiled. "Then let's treat this like what it is."
Liam looked up. "What?"
"A stage."
End of Chapter 8