The atmosphere inside Zenith Records was less like a music label and more like a high-altitude military command center. With the Eclipse Tour set to launch in exactly seven days, the building had become a twenty-four-hour operation. Sleep was a luxury no one could afford. In the lobby, massive digital displays looped high-definition trailers for the tour, showing slow-motion shots of Jax and the band silhouetted against pyrotechnics.
On the executive floor, the chaos was controlled but frantic. Every department was locked in a synchronized dance to ensure the tour's launch was the biggest media event of the decade. The Promotions Team was currently coordinating with international radio conglomerates for "First-to-Listen" events across four continents. In the conference rooms, lawyers were finalising local labor permits for the three hundred person road crew that would be traveling with the band.
Damian Reed stood at the head of the long mahogany table, watching his staff work. He didn't just want a successful tour: he wanted a cultural monopoly.
Status on the stage freight? Damian asked, his voice cutting through the chatter.
The Logistics Manager looked up from a spreadsheet. The first fleet of forty trucks is already at the stadium in New Jersey. The custom LED stage floor arrived from Germany this morning. We have a backup generator system being installed as we speak to ensure the show never goes dark.
Good, Damian said. Now, the PR crisis. Where are we?
The Marketing Director opened a presentation on the main screen. We have successfully pivoted the narrative. We leaked a series of high-resolution "mood boards" to certain influencers and press outlets. These boards feature the silver Porsche and the white silk aesthetic we saw in the paparazzi photo. We are framing it as a teaser for a secret luxury merchandise line. The Netizens are already biting. They think the woman was a high-fashion model hired for a lookbook. The mystery is now working for us, not against us.
It is a temporary fix, Silas Trent muttered, pacing the back of the room. Silas looked like a man who had been plugged into an electrical socket. His eyes were bloodshot, and he was constantly checking three different phones. We need to make sure Jax doesn't do anything stupid like post a photo of her. He is in a defiant mood.
Then keep him busy, Damian ordered. If he isn't on stage, he should be in a fitting. If he isn't in a fitting, he should be in a vocal booth. I want him so exhausted he doesn't have the energy to think about a personal life.
The door to the boardroom opened, and a junior assistant scurried in, looking pale. Mr. Reed, the CEO of Vance Global is in the lobby. He says he has a private meeting scheduled with Mr. Ryland.
Damian and Silas exchanged a look. Elias Vance was not just a security contractor: he was the man responsible for the lives of their most valuable assets. His company had signed a record-breaking contract to provide armored transport, close-protection detail, and advanced counter-surveillance for the entire duration of the Eclipse Tour.
Send him to the private lounge, Damian said. And find Jax.
The private lounge was a soundproofed room designed for the comfort of superstars, but the air inside felt cold the moment Elias Vance stepped into it. Elias did not look like a man who worked in music. He looked like a man who knew exactly how many seconds it took for a person to lose consciousness. He was dressed in a charcoal suit that cost more than most people's cars, his posture perfect and his eyes scanning every corner of the room.
Jax Ryland walked in five minutes later. He hadn't bothered to change out of his rehearsal clothes: a black t-shirt and dark jeans that were damp with sweat. He looked every bit the rockstar, but there was a defensive edge to his stride.
You're the security guy, Jax said, sitting on the edge of a velvet chair. I didn't think we were doing the safety briefing until tomorrow.
I am not here for a safety briefing, Jax, Elias said, his voice low and steady. I am here as a man who cares about the woman you were with this morning.
Jax stiffened. His eyes narrowed, and a sudden spark of jealousy flared in his chest. He had seen the way Aria spoke of Elias. He knew they weren't related by blood, but the bond between them was deep and historical. To Jax, Elias looked like a man who knew too many of Aria's secrets.
You're her brother, right? Jax asked, though the word felt heavy in his mouth.
In every way that matters, Elias replied. Which is why I am going to ask you once. What do you really want from her? Because Aria is not a girl you date for a few weeks to get over a breakup. She is not a story for your fans. If you bring her into your world, you are painting a target on her back.
I love her, Jax said, his voice surprisingly firm. I don't care about the labels or the fans. I care about her.
Elias let out a sharp, cold laugh. You love her? You don't even know her. You know the version of her that she lets you see. But the world she lives in is violent and complicated. Your life is cameras and screaming teenagers. Her life is shadows and survival. If she gets caught in the crossfire of your fame, she loses everything.
Jax stood up, closing the distance between them. He was tall, but Elias had a physical presence that was intimidating. Maybe you're the one who doesn't know her, Jax challenged. Maybe she wants a life where she doesn't have to look over her shoulder. Maybe she's tired of being the person you want her to be.
Elias did not flinch. Do not mistake her kindness for weakness, Jax. And do not think for a second that I will hesitate to pull her out of your life if you become a threat to her safety.
Jax felt the heat of his own jealousy rising. You seem very protective of someone who is just a sister, Elias.
Elias stepped forward until they were inches apart. I have protected her since she had nothing. I will be protecting her long after your tour is over. Remember that.
The tension in the room was thick enough to choke on. Both men were Alpha personalities, both used to being the most important person in any room. They stood there for a long moment, a silent war of wills playing out between them.
Jax was the first to break the silence, though his tone was still icy. Let's talk business then. Since you're so concerned with her safety, I assume Vance Global is going to provide the best team in the world for this tour. I saw the contract. It's the biggest Zenith has ever signed for security.
Elias adjusted his cufflinks, his professional mask sliding back into place. My company provides the best protection money can buy. I have already assigned a twenty-four-hour detail to you and the band. We have swept every stadium on the first leg of the tour for surveillance bugs and structural weaknesses. My men will be in the wings of the stage, in the hotels, and on the planes. You won't even see them, but they will be there.
And if there is a threat? Jax asked.
Elias looked him dead in the eye. If there is a threat, we neutralize it. But my primary concern is Aria. If Soverkis Volkov or anyone else tries to use you to get to her, the contract with Zenith becomes secondary. I will do whatever is necessary to keep her safe.
Jax nodded slowly. Then we have something in common. Because I'll do the same.
Back in the main offices, the preparations reached a fever pitch. The Digital Marketing specialist was monitoring the "Netizen" response to the leaked mood boards.
It's working, she told the Marketing Director. The hashtag #AetherSecret is trending. People are arguing over whether it's a clothing line or a movie project. The paparazzi photo is being treated like a piece of art instead of a scandal.
Good, the Director said. Keep feeding the fire. I want three more leaks by Friday. One of a fabric swatch, one of a silver car door, and one of a silhouette that isn't Aria's. We need to muddy the waters so much that no one can find the truth.
In the basement level of Zenith, the wardrobe department was a chaotic sea of sequins, leather, and heavy wool. Tailors were frantically adjusting the sleeves of Jax's opening night jacket. The designer was arguing with a technician about how to hide a wireless microphone pack inside a silk vest without ruining the line of the suit.
Outside, in the real world, the fans were already gathering. In front of the Zenith building, a small crowd of "AetherArmy" members had set up a vigil, holding signs and playing the band's new singles on portable speakers. They were waiting for a glimpse of their idol, unaware of the corporate war being fought over his heart.
Silas Trent stood at the window, looking down at the fans. They have no idea, he whispered to himself.
He turned back to his desk, where a pile of non-disclosure agreements sat waiting for his signature. The Eclipse Tour was a machine that consumed everything in its path: money, time, and people. He just hoped that Jax Ryland didn't end up being the one thing the machine couldn't digest.
As the clock struck midnight, the Zenith headquarters stayed lit up like a beacon. There were only seven days left until the first chord would be struck in front of eighty thousand people. The tour was coming, and with it, a storm that no amount of security or marketing could stop.