Chapter 1

The moment I inadvertently overheard that cruel truth, it felt as though a sledgehammer had slammed into my chest, the pain leaving me all but breathless.

For the past year, Liam Cole—the band’s lead singer and the man I had loved so deeply—had relentlessly indoctrinated me with stories of the mistreatment he suffered at his record label: the isolation, the stolen creative credit, the humiliation by executives.

I had exhausted every ounce of my strength to protect his talent, even going so far as to bury my own name and exist as his "shadow writer." When the pressure brought him to the brink of collapse, I was the one who suggested he break his contract so we could start over together in London.

I remembered that day vividly: he stood in the rain, drenched to the bone, his eyes as hollow as a shattered porcelain doll. He had grasped my hand, trembling. "Harper, I can't face that strange city without you."

We had been the best of partners since high school; music was our shared language. And in the deepest recesses of my heart, I had always loved him in silence.

So, driven by that blind loyalty, I promised him, "Don't worry, Liam. Where you go, I go."

Yet, standing now outside the heavy soundproof door of the recording studio, I realized that it had all been an elaborately woven lie—a scheme designed to wring the last drop of value from me before discarding me like trash.

"Is she really that easy to fool?"

Inside the studio, his guitarist was laughing. "Harper treats your songs like scripture. What if she starts writing for someone else out there?"

"Her?" Liam scoffed, his voice dripping with a coldness I didn't recognize. "Her little sparks of inspiration only revolve around me. Do you really think she'd leave? Her boring loyalty makes her like an obedient old dog."

The guitarist muttered, "I don't know, man. She is the real author behind those hits, after all."

"Impossible," Liam strummed a lazy chord. "This industry is crawling with people desperate for fame, but has she ever looked at anyone else but me?"

His tone was thick with disdain as he continued, "She watches every note I play like a strict governess. It’s suffocating."

A harsh burst of laughter erupted in the room. I wanted to flee, but my feet felt as if they were encased in lead, forcing me to endure this final verdict.

The bassist whistled. "First time I've ever seen someone push their 'cash cow' out the door. Bold move, brother. But if you're really that sick of her, why not just fire her? She doesn't look like the type to cling."

Liam frowned. "She takes things too seriously. It’s not that easy to be direct with her."

He paused, then dropped the true bombshell: "Besides, Nina feels pressured every time she sees Harper's serious face. Nina can only relax when I'm there coaxing her. I'm doing this for Nina. As for Harper, she'll just have to suffer a bit and continue being the invisible woman."

The shattered score finally pieced itself together. Nina Frost, the new stylist assistant. A week after she joined the company, Liam had started complaining about corporate "bullying."

"You sly bastard! Smitten by the new stylist the moment she walked in?" someone chuckled. "But Nina does have that fragile, artistic aura that makes you want to protect her. Men eat that up. Unlike Harper—she’s too dominant, always scrutinizing everything with that professional eye. I don't care how talented she is; that personality is a turn-off."

The others chimed in, mocking my sacrifices like a pack of bloodthirsty hyenas. Liam didn't stop them. He didn't defend me. He even played a jaunty melody on his guitar, accompanying their ridicule.

My heart sank into a frozen abyss. For a split second, I wanted to storm in and smash the mixing console to pieces.

Why did he lie? Watching me stay up all night, losing hair over his career—did he ever feel a shred of guilt?

But then, the voice of my mother—the Chairwoman of Vance Media Group—echoed in my mind: "Harper, never waste emotion on an unworthy investment. The winner is the one who knows when to cut their losses."

Finally, I turned and walked away.