ARIA'S POV
I stare at my apartment door like it might explode.
Damien Cross. THE Damien Cross. The most powerful man in the music industry is standing outside my crappy apartment at midnight.
The same man future-me warned me about.
"Miss Chen?" His voice is smooth, controlled. "I know you're there. I can hear you breathing."
My heart hammers. Do I open the door? Do I trust the man who might have killed me in another timeline?
But if I don't open it, he'll know I'm scared. He'll know I have something to hide.
I grab my phone, open the camera app, and hit record. Evidence. Whatever happens next, I'm recording it.
Then I unlock the door.
The man standing in my hallway steals my breath.
Damien Cross is tall, maybe six-foot-two, with dark hair and eyes so intense they seem to see straight through me. He's wearing an expensive suit even though it's midnight. Power radiates off him like heat.
But it's his expression that stops me cold—he looks confused. Almost... vulnerable?
"You're younger than your voice," he says.
"You're taller than your Wikipedia photo," I shoot back, then immediately regret it. Why did I say that? Now he knows I looked him up.
But instead of looking annoyed, his lips quirk slightly. Almost a smile. "Fair enough. May I come in?"
Every instinct screams NO. Future Aria's warning echoes in my head: He's the reason you died.
But I step aside anyway. Because I need answers more than I need safety.
Damien walks into my tiny apartment, and suddenly the space feels even smaller. He glances around—at my secondhand furniture, my stack of music books, my cheap keyboard in the corner.
"You live here alone?" he asks.
"My roommate's visiting family." I keep my phone in my pocket, still recording. "How did you find my address?"
"I have resources." He turns to face me. "Your demo arrived at my office three hours ago. A song called 'Shattered Crown.' The file metadata says it was recorded in 2018. It's currently 2015."
I force my face to stay neutral. "Maybe the date stamp was wrong."
"Maybe." His eyes bore into mine. "Or maybe you're not who you appear to be."
The air between us crackles with tension.
"Who do you think I am?" I whisper.
"I think you're someone who's lived through something impossible. I think you've been given information you shouldn't have. And I think—" He steps closer. "I think you're terrified right now, and you're trying very hard not to show it."
He's right. About all of it.
"Why are you here, Mr. Cross?" My voice shakes slightly.
"Because that song you sent me—it's extraordinary. And because my security team detected something strange when they traced your IP address. A temporal distortion." He pulls out his phone and shows me a graph with spiking lines. "This is the energy signature around your apartment. It's identical to readings we took at three other locations where time anomalies occurred."
My mouth goes dry. "Time anomalies?"
"People who remember things that haven't happened yet. Events that change without explanation. Déjà vu that turns out to be actual memories from other timelines." He puts his phone away. "You're not the first, Miss Chen. But you might be the strongest."
"I don't know what you're talking about—"
"Stop lying." His voice cuts like a blade. "I can help you, but only if you're honest with me. What happened to you tonight?"
I want to lie. I should lie.
But something in his eyes—genuine concern mixed with understanding—breaks through my defenses.
"I died," I say simply. "I fell through a stage and broke my back. My last thought was regret for wasting my life. Then I woke up here, ten years younger, with a second chance."
Damien doesn't laugh. Doesn't call me crazy. He just nods slowly.
"And in your first life? What happened?"
"I failed. I trusted people who betrayed me. My songs were stolen. My career never happened. I spent ten years as a nobody until I died in that bar." Tears burn my eyes. "This is my chance to fix everything."
"By signing with me?"
"I don't know!" I explode. "I got an email—from future me—saying you're dangerous. That you're the reason I died. That if I trust you, I'll end up dead again."
Instead of looking offended, Damien's face goes pale. "You received a message from your future self?"
"Yes. With a photo of me in a hospital bed and someone standing over me. The message said 'he pulled the plug.'" I pull out my laptop and show him. "See?"
Damien stares at the screen. His hands clench into fists.
"That's not me in the photo," he says quietly.
"What?"
"Look at the suit. The watch. The build." He points at the shadowy figure. "That's not me. I thought—" He cuts himself off, jaw tight.
"You thought what?"
"I thought I was the only one investigating time anomalies. But if someone sent you that message, someone else knows about the timeline splits. Someone else is interfering."
A chill runs down my spine. "Who?"
"I don't know. But they're trying to make you distrust me." He meets my eyes. "Miss Chen—Aria—I swear on my mother's grave, I have never hurt you. In any timeline. I'm trying to PROTECT people like you."
"Why should I believe you?"
"Because—" His phone rings, cutting him off. He glances at the screen and his face goes hard. "I have to take this."
He steps into my tiny hallway. I hear his voice, low and urgent: "What do you mean she's missing?... When?... No, don't do anything until I get there."
He comes back, and for the first time, I see fear in his eyes.
"I have to go. There's been an incident." He hands me a business card. "Lock your door. Don't let anyone in. Don't go to Kyle's studio tonight."
My stomach drops. "How do you know about Kyle?"
"Because in every timeline we've tracked, he's connected to the anomalies. He's either a victim or—" Damien pauses. "Or he's the cause."
"Kyle? But he's just a songwriter—"
"Is he?" Damien heads for the door. "Be careful, Aria. The timeline is shifting faster than it should. Someone's accelerating it. And I think—"
His phone buzzes. He looks at it and goes completely still.
"What? What is it?"
He shows me the screen.
It's a text from an unknown number: "Stop interfering, Cross. The girl dies tonight. All timelines. No exceptions."
Below it, a photo—of ME, walking out of my apartment building. The timestamp says it was taken thirty seconds ago.
But I've been in my apartment the whole time.
"That's not possible," I breathe. "I haven't left—"
Damien grabs my arm and pulls me to the window.
Down on the street, I see myself—another me—walking toward a car where Kyle is waiting.
"Oh my god," I whisper. "There are TWO of me?"
"The timelines are merging," Damien says urgently. "The other you—the one who trusted Kyle—she's still making the same mistakes. If she gets in that car—"
"What happens?"
He looks at me, and I see the truth in his eyes before he says it.
"Kyle drives her to his studio. She never comes out. In every version of tonight we've seen, she disappears. And tomorrow, when Star Maker auditions happen, there's no Aria Chen at all."
I watch my other self open Kyle's car door.
"I have to stop her!" I run for my door.
Damien blocks me. "You can't meet yourself. It could collapse both timelines. You'd both cease to exist."
"Then what do I DO?"
My phone buzzes—Kyle's message: "Hey babe, where are you? I've been waiting outside for ten minutes."
Wait. If Kyle's texting me, and Kyle's in the car with other-me...
"That's not Kyle," I whisper. "Whoever's in that car, it's not really him."
Damien's face goes grim. "No. It's not."
Down on the street, I watch myself—the other me—climb into the car.
The door closes.
The car drives away into the darkness.
And somewhere deep in my soul, I feel something tear. Like part of me just died.
"What just happened?" My voice cracks.
Damien's phone rings again. He answers, listens, and his face goes white.
"They found a body," he says. "Female, early twenties, found in the bay an hour ago. She's been dead for approximately ten years based on decomposition, but her ID says—" He stops.
"Says what?"
"Says she's Aria Chen. And her time of death..." He shows me the police report on his phone.
The date listed is tonight. The time is 11:47 PM.
The exact time I "uploaded" that demo to Apex.
"I don't understand," I say. "How can I be dead if I'm standing here?"
Damien looks at me with something like pity. "Because maybe you're not the original Aria Chen who got a second chance."
"What does that mean?"
"It means maybe you're the echo. The ghost. The timeline's memory of a girl who died ten years ago."
My knees buckle. "No. No, I'm real. I'm HERE."
"Are you?" He reaches out to touch my shoulder—
His hand passes through me like I'm made of smoke.
I look down at my body. My hands are starting to fade. Becoming transparent.
"What's happening to me?!" I scream.
"The timeline is correcting itself," Damien says, and he sounds devastated. "If the real Aria—the one in that car—dies, then this version of you can't exist. You're an anomaly. A glitch."
"NO!" I grab at my laptop, my phone, trying to hold onto something solid. But my fingers pass through everything. "I'm REAL! I have memories! I have a second chance!"
"I'm sorry," Damien whispers. "I'm so sorry."
The last thing I see before I fade completely is Kyle's car turning the corner.
And the last thing I hear is Damien's voice: "I'll find you again. In every timeline. I promise."
Then—nothing.
Everything goes black.
I gasp awake.
I'm lying on cold concrete. Rain is falling. My whole body aches.
I sit up slowly and look around.
I'm in an alley. Behind a building I don't recognize.
My phone is in my hand, but the screen is cracked. The date reads: May 16th, 2015 - 6:47 AM.
Tomorrow. I jumped to tomorrow. The audition is in two hours.
But something's wrong. My clothes are different. There's blood on my hands.
And when I check my messages, there's one from Kyle, sent at midnight:
"Thanks for meeting me tonight, babe. Sorry about what I had to do. You understand, right? It's just business. Nothing personal. - K"
Below it, a photo attachment.
I click it with shaking fingers.
It's me. Tied to a chair in Kyle's studio. Unconscious.
What did he do to me? What happened in the hours I can't remember?
And if I'm here now... who's in that photo?