Chapter 5

"He's the one who backed the Blue Harbour tour last year, right?"

"And the Royal Albert Hall residency."

The room shifted.

A minute ago, they had been watching me like I was the jealous ex-girlfriend ruining Adrian Vale's showcase. Now they were looking at the screen, then at me, trying to decide whether the message was real.

Lily recovered first.

She gave a small laugh, soft enough to sound embarrassed for me.

"Mira," she said, "you don't have to do this."

I looked at her. "Do what?"

"Pretend Nathaniel Reed is planning some kind of ceremony with you." Her eyes moved around the room, making sure everyone heard. "I know you're hurt, but dragging someone like him into this is… a lot."

A few people murmured.

Adrian still had not spoken.

His face was dark, his eyes fixed on Nathaniel's name. He knew exactly who Nathaniel Reed was. Everyone in that room did.

Reed Music Group backed venues, publishing deals, festival stages, and enough private rooms in enough cities to make or stall a career without raising its voice. Adrian had spent years trying to get near that circle.

I picked up my phone before another notification could drop down.

My hands were steadier than I expected.

I sent Nathaniel one message.

What ceremony?

His reply came almost immediately.

The one you asked me for, Mira. Unless you've changed your mind.

A second later, another message followed.

And I would rather not list Vale anywhere near you, but I promised to ask.

I stared at the screen and exhaled.

Of course.

Nathaniel had always had a way of turning impossible things into calendar items.

Three nights ago, when I called him from the car and asked whether he had meant what he said about Royal Albert Hall, I thought I was clinging to an old joke, something reckless and half-broken that only sounded brave because I had nothing left to lose.

Nathaniel had taken it seriously.

He had booked the hall.

Lily was still smiling, but it had started to strain at the edges.

"Well?" she asked. "Are you going to tell everyone Nathaniel Reed is marrying you now?"

The way she said marrying made a few people laugh.

It was the wrong kind of laugh this time. Uncertain. Careful.

Adrian finally looked at me.

"Turn off the screen," he said to the assistant.

The assistant fumbled with the connection, and the display went black.

But the room had already seen enough.

Adrian crossed the space between us, his voice low. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I was showing proof that Lily used my mother's line."

"You know what I mean."

I slipped my phone into my bag. "Then say it clearly."

His jaw tightened. "Nathaniel Reed is not someone you use to make a point."

I almost laughed. "That's what you're worried about?"

"I'm worried you're humiliating yourself."

There it was again.

Not that Lily had sung from my mother's tape. Not that he had kept that tape for a showcase while my mother was dying. Not that the entire room had just seen proof.

He was worried about the part that embarrassed him.

Adrian stepped closer, blocking the room from me as if privacy could be created by standing in the way.

"Do you understand who he is?" he said. "People like Nathaniel don't get involved in drama like this. If you made him part of some revenge act, you're going to regret it."

"Revenge act?"

"You left my house, called him, and now there's some ceremony at Royal Albert Hall?" He gave a short, humorless laugh. "Mira, come on."

Lily stood a few feet behind him, her eyes bright again.

"Adrian," she said gently, "maybe don't push her. She's clearly not thinking straight."

I looked past Adrian at her.

"You should be more worried about the tape."

Her expression flickered.

Miles Hart spoke before she could answer.

"I'd like to hear the original recording."

The room quieted.

Grant shifted in his chair. "Miles, this probably isn't the best time."

"It seems like the only useful time," Miles said.

His gaze stayed on me. "If the line came from Evelyn Lane's tape, the arrangement needs to be cleared properly. And credited properly."

Lily's face went pale again.

Adrian looked cornered for the first time that night.

"This is getting out of hand," he said.

"No," Miles replied. "This is what happens when no one handles the song like it belongs to the person who wrote it."

That sentence landed harder than I expected.

For seven years, I had heard people call my work Adrian's sound, Adrian's instinct, Adrian's emotional honesty. I had watched my lyrics become his interviews, my arrangements become his genius, my silence become his clean story.

Now one person in the room had said it plainly.

The song belonged to me.

Adrian heard it too. His mouth tightened.

Lily's eyes filled again, but nobody moved to comfort her this time.

I picked up my coat.

"Mira," Adrian said.

I stopped.

His voice changed, softening in a way that would have once made me stay.

"Don't walk out like this."

I looked at him.

For seven years, I had wanted him to say that. I had wanted him to ask me to stay in a room full of people, to choose me when it mattered, to stop pretending that I was just part of the machine that kept him shining.

Now he was saying it because Nathaniel Reed's name had appeared on a screen.

Too late.

Lily stepped beside him, no longer bothering to hide her panic. "Adrian, are you really going to let her ruin the release over one line?"

One line.

My mother's last song had become one line.

I turned back to Adrian.

"If I told you I'm really marrying him," I said, "would you still think this was about you?"

The room went silent.

Adrian stared at me, the color slowly draining from his face.

Lily's mouth parted.

Someone near the back whispered, "Marrying Nathaniel Reed?"

I did not wait for the next question.