The sun had not yet broken over the jagged teeth of the New York skyline. At 5:30 AM, the city was draped in a suffocating indigo, a pre-dawn gloom that felt heavy and expectant. In the silence of the penthouse, the only light came from the dim glow of the security panels and the cold, pale streetlamps fifty stories below. Aria stood by the floor to ceiling windows, already dressed in her white silk robe with her structured wool coat draped over her shoulders like a cape.
She reached for her keys on the nightstand, but a heavy hand caught her wrist. The heat of his skin was a sharp contrast to the morning chill. Jax did not use force, but the weight of his grip was a silent plea for her to stay. He looked revitalized, his face smoothed by the lingering heat of the night they had shared. He looked younger and more dangerous than he did under the stage lights, his eyes barely open and his voice thick with sleep.
Stay, Jax rasped.
I cannot, Aria whispered. She leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead, breathing in the scent of his skin. The team expects me at the studio by eight for the prototype shipment. Besides, you have technical rehearsals for the Eclipse Tour. Silas will have a heart attack if you are late again.
Jax let out a low groan and pulled a silk pillow over his head. Silas lives in a state of permanent cardiac arrest. Give me five more minutes. The tour can wait for its lead singer.
Aria smiled, a rare and private expression, before slipping out of the room. She moved through the shadows of the penthouse with the grace of a ghost. She did not see the long range lens positioned in the darkened office building across the street. The shutter clicked rhythmically, capturing the exact moment she slid into her silver Porsche and disappeared into the gray mist of the city.
By the time she reached her destination, the music world was already waking up to a firestorm. Inside the glass walled offices of Zenith Records, the atmosphere didn't just feel tense: it felt expensive. A digital ticker on the wall flashed "ECLIPSE WORLD TOUR: PRE-SALE STATUS." The three lead singles from the Eclipse album were already topping the global charts, and the bars for London, Paris, and Tokyo were already flashing a deep, urgent red: 98% CAPACITY.
Silas Trent, the manager of Aether, was vibrating with a mixture of caffeine and sheer panic. He slammed a tablet onto the mahogany conference table in front of Damian Reed, the CEO of the label.
Explain this to me, Damian, Silas shouted. We are three weeks out from the most expensive worldwide tour in the history of this company. My lead singer is being photographed at dawn with a ghost!
Damian Reed remained calm, his legendary ruthlessness hidden behind a mask of professional indifference. He picked up the tablet and studied the image. It was a grainy shot of a tall woman with her back to the camera, her hand resting on the door of a silver vehicle. Even in the pixels, her posture screamed of power.
It is a blurry photo, Silas, Damian said coolly. In forty eight hours, it will be replaced by a new scandal involving a politician or a TikToker. Calm down.
Calm down? Silas laughed humorlessly. The Marketing Director is currently fielding calls from Vogue and Rolling Stone. The Digital Marketing team says our engagement is up 400 percent, but it is all "Who is the girl?" and not "Buy the tickets." If the Netizens believe Jax is off the market, the boyfriend fantasy dies. We need to kill this story. Now.
The Marketing Director stepped forward, gesturing to the climbing numbers on her laptop. We have a problem with the brand perception, Damian. The AetherArmy thrives on the idea of accessibility. We suggest a controlled leak. We do not deny the photo. Instead, we spin it as a high fashion collaboration. We tell the press that Jax was meeting with a consultant for his tour wardrobe to explain the early hour.
We cannot kill what we do not know, Damian replied, his eyes narrowing. Find out who she is. If she is a liability, we pay her off. If she is an asset, we script the narrative.
In the rehearsal studio, the air smelled of floor wax and the metallic tang of amplifier tubes. Kellan and Rhys were huddled over a smartphone while Nick, the youngest member of the band, spun a drumstick nervously.
No way, Kellan muttered. Jax actually did it. He brought a girl home.
It is not just any girl, Rhys added, pointing at the screen. Look at the way she carries herself. Even in a blurry photo, she looks like she could kill someone with a look. She does not look like the types Jax usually... well, doesn't date.
When Jax finally walked into the room, the silence was deafening. He looked more handsome and relaxed than he had in months, the glow of the previous night still clinging to him.
Do not, Jax said, holding up a hand before anyone could speak. It is a photo. It is nothing.
Silas is crying in his office, Jax, Nick said with a cheeky grin. He says the Aether brand is bleeding out. Who is she, man? Is she the one?
Jax froze. He had not told the boys about Aria yet. It is someone special, he said, his eyes hardening. And she is not a story for the label to sell. Keep your mouths shut around Silas.
The heavy doors of the studio swung open and Silas Trent marched in, looking like he had not slept a minute. He ignored the other band members and went straight for Jax.
We need a name, Jax, Silas demanded. The PR team needs to know if we are denying this or spinning it as a fashion collaboration. Give me something to work with before the fans find her address.
No name, Silas, Jax said. Handle the press. That is what you are paid for.
Handle it? Silas shouted. I am paid to protect a billion dollar asset. If this woman is a scandal waiting to happen, I cannot stop the board from pulling the tour insurance. Give me a name!
Jax turned his back on his manager, picking up his guitar. The conversation was over.
Across the city, Soverkis Volkov sat in her private sanctuary. She was looking at the photo with a simmering, obsessive jealousy. She had wanted Jax Ryland for a long time: not just for his fame, but for the man himself. To her, Jax was a prize that only she was worthy of winning. She saw the silver Porsche and felt a knot of rage.
Find her, Soverkis whispered to her assistant. I do not care who she is. If she is in his apartment at 6 AM, she is a problem that needs to be removed.
Soverkis did not want to hurt Jax, but she had no qualms about eliminating the competition. She did not see a Commander in that photo. She only saw a target.
While the music world burned, Aria entered her private estate. She found Elias Vance standing in her kitchen with a tablet in his hand. Talia was sitting at the island, looking worried.
You were careless, Aria, Elias said. Vance Global has the official security contract for the Eclipse Tour. If the media connects you to Jax, they start digging into me. And if they dig into me, they might find the missions. They might find the team.
It is a blurry photo, Elias. No one knows it is me, Aria replied, shedding her coat.
Soverkis Volkov does not need a clear photo to be dangerous, Elias warned. She is obsessed with him. She will come for you, and she will not use a press release. She will use the shadows.
After Elias left to manage the public side of Vance Global, Talia walked over to Aria.
Is it true? Talia asked softly. You and Jax... It is real?
Aria slumped against the counter. Yes, Tal. I am dating him. I did not want it to be a secret forever, but I did not want it to happen like this.
Talia hugged her. We will protect the secret. But you know Soverkis. She won't stop until she knows who you are. Soverkis and Chloe are sharks, her father had always warned. They do not just want the market share: they want to destroy you.
Aria's eyes turned cold. Let her try. She thinks she is the only one who knows how to play dirty