At eight, the comeback show went live to every phone in the city.
Cleo stood in the center of the stage, small and shiny under the lights.
Daphne stood in the dark wing and watched her sister take her words.
Cleo: This one is called Paper Saint. I hope you love it as much as I do.
She sang it well. Of course she did. She had practiced it plenty.
Every word belonged to Daphne, and the crowd had no idea.
Gil: When she finishes, you clap. Big. Like you mean it.
Gil said it low and close to her ear. The crew could still hear him.
That was the point of Gil. Every lesson had a witness.
Daphne: No.
His fingers tightened and pulled her back behind a stack of speakers.
Gil: You useless little bitch. You're a spare. Spares get thrown out.
Gil: You're a rented voice with a family discount, and the rent is due.
He shoved her into the wall. Her head hit first, then her shoulder.
Warm blood ran from her nose onto her mouth.
Maura: Do what your brother says, or I call the number in and your clock runs out tonight.
She said it calm, with her gold necklace shining. She meant every word.
Gil: In ten days you'll be nothing. No songs, no face, no name.
Gil: Now smile and clap, or I'll break your other arm too.
He said it like a promise. She believed it.
Julian: Just clap and this ends. Don't make it worse for her.
Julian looked at the wall, not at her face. He had already picked.
On stage, Cleo held the last note, and the room exploded.
Cleo: This song was a gift from someone I love. Daph, come take a bow with me.
Maura's hand pushed at her elbow, to shove her out front to clap.
Daphne stepped into the light and raised her phone instead.
Daphne: You want me to applaud. I'll do better. I'll play the song.
She hit play. Her own demo, recorded in her apartment, two dead keys and all.
Her real voice came out of every speaker in the building.
The cheering stopped. Then the talking stopped.
The demo was soft and plain, with her hands hitting the wrong keys.
It was still the truest version of the song that room had ever heard.
Cleo: She's lying! She's been sick for years! Look at her, she's crazy!
The tears came fast and pretty, and her chin shook for the cameras.
The pity should have come right then. It did not come.
Soren Thane had not looked at Cleo once. Not while she cried.
He watched Daphne, and his face was the calmest thing in the room.
Every phone in the room was pointed at her now.
Daphne: That's my song. That's my voice. Any questions?
Nobody answered. The silence stretched like a held note.
Her own voice was still hanging in the air, and the room was waiting.
Behind her, Soren took one step into the light.