Las Estrellas Academy buzzed with anticipation.
The annual Talent Showcase wasn't just an event—it was a proving ground. Dignitaries, scouts, even celebrities attended. Winning meant scholarships, contracts, headlines.
But for Ella, it meant something far more dangerous.
It was the deadline on the clock ticking in her nightmares.
And she had no idea what would explode once the time ran out.
****
She sat backstage, wrapped in her black silk robe, a mic taped to her cheek and fear tangled in her gut.
Her piece was simple—a piano-vocal performance. Emotional. Real. Vulnerable.
She hadn't even told Ryan the full song. Not yet.
He was pacing near the side curtains, his jaw tight, fists clenching and unclenching. He hadn't stopped watching her back since they found the USB.
The videos.
The threat.
The countdown.
And now?
They were running out of time.
****
In the audience, Clarissa walked in fashionably late in an ice-blue dress that shimmered like betrayal. The crowd gasped in admiration.
She smiled sweetly—playing her role.
But her mind was a battlefield of revenge.
Hidden in her designer purse was a phone.
And on that phone?
A pre-set livestream link.
One that would launch the most humiliating moment of Ella's life to the world in a matter of minutes.
"Smile for the spotlight, Ella," she whispered to herself, taking her seat.
"Let's end your fairytale."
****
Backstage, Ella took a shaky breath and pressed her forehead to Ryan's chest.
"I feel like something bad's going to happen," she whispered.
He wrapped his arms around her tightly. "Then we'll face it together."
She looked up at him, their faces inches apart.
"Promise?"
"I swear on every kiss we haven't had yet."
Their lips brushed—soft, fleeting—but enough to strengthen her spine.
The stage manager called her name.
Showtime.
****
The stage lights dimmed.
A single piano note echoed.
Then another.
Ella walked into the spotlight, every step slow and haunting. Her fingers touched the keys, and her voice poured out—a raw, aching melody.
🎵 "I was porcelain you broke,
Now I'm fire that smokes.
You laughed when I cried,
Now I rise when you choke..." 🎵
The crowd was silent.
Spellbound.
Except Clarissa.
She tapped her phone screen under the table—Play.
The livestream launched.
Except—
Instead of Ella's live humiliation—
A different video played.
A corporate boardroom.
A voice speaking clearly.
"…we falsified the charges. Ms. López had nothing to do with the money laundering…"
Clarissa froze.
The screen switched to another clip.
Her father. Laughing at the camera.
"The girl's smart, but her mom will break first. Let's see how much Ella's heart can take."
The crowd gasped. Phones were pulled out. Screens lit up.
Chaos erupted.
****
Clarissa's phone vibrated.
A text.
From: Unknown
"Funny how easy it was to hack your feed instead. You started a war, babe. Now burn in it. —E"
Clarissa stood up, rage swallowing her whole. "NO! She—she hacked me!"
But no one cared. The whispers had turned into shouts.
"Her dad's corrupt."
"They framed Ella's mom?"
"Did you see that footage?"
****
Ella finished her last note.
Stood.
Bowed.
And walked off the stage with thunderous applause shaking the hall behind her.
She stepped into the wings—
And Ryan grabbed her, lifting her into the air and spinning her.
"You did it," he breathed, kissing her like it was the only thing keeping him alive.
"I didn't upload that video," she whispered against his lips. "Someone else did."
Ryan paused. "Who?"
"I don't know... but someone's helping us. And whoever it is…"
A door backstage slammed.
Security ran past, heading for the VIP rows.
Clarissa had thrown a fit, screaming, trying to delete her father's confession from every phone in the audience.
Too late.
It had already gone viral.
****
That night, Ella and Ryan met on the rooftop of the observatory.
Below them, the academy buzzed with gossip, but up here… it was silent.
Ella lay her head on his chest.
"He kissed me here the first time," she whispered.
Ryan laughed. "I was shaking so hard."
"You didn't show it."
"I was pretending to be confident. Inside, I was freaking out. I was afraid you'd punch me."
"I almost did."
They laughed softly, the sound tender, laced with heat.
Then—his lips brushed her temple. "I'm falling for you."
She turned her head to him slowly. "I already fell."
Their lips collided—hotter this time, more desperate. His hands slipped beneath her robe, fingers trailing along bare skin, sending shivers down her spine.
He pulled back, breathless. "Tell me to stop."
She met his gaze. "I don't want you to."
Their mouths met again.
And this time…
Neither of them stopped.
****
Meanwhile, inside a hidden office lined with monitors, a shadowy figure watched the video feed—not of the showcase, but of the rooftop.
Of them.
Together.
Every move.
Every kiss.
Every whisper.
The figure leaned forward.
Female. Sleek gloves. Dark lipstick. She smiled.
"They're cute together."
She pressed a button. A new file opened.
Labeled:
PHASE TWO: Break the Boy.