A few days had passed since Cordelia stepped out of the shadows and into the spotlight. Her first single had been recorded—raw, powerful, entirely her own. The release date was officially set for a week later, and Lia could hardly contain her excitement. Each note, each lyric, had been pulled from the deepest corners of her soul, and now the world was finally going to hear it.

In his sleek, glass-walled office, Lucian stood at the window, staring at the skyline as Amy updated him on Lia’s progress. But what stopped him mid-thought was her casual remark:

“She wrote the song herself.”

Lucian blinked, turning to face Amy. “What did you say?”

“The song—Lia wrote it. All the lyrics, all the emotions—it’s her own story,” Amy clarified, tilting her head at his stunned expression.

Lucian’s lips curled into a slow smile. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed—short and surprised.

Amy flinched. “You don’t like it?”

“What? No,” he said quickly, waving her off. “Of course I like it. I’ve just never seen a rookie write with that much depth. It’s rare.”

Relief softened Amy’s shoulders. “You might not know, but Lia’s incredibly talented at writing lyrics. I’ve only seen a few of her older pieces by accident, but they were... beautiful.”

Lucian folded his arms and listened quietly as Amy continued.

“There was one song in particular—she wrote it a year ago. I told her it deserved to be recorded. She refused.”

“Why?” Lucian asked.

“Said it was too melancholic, something just for her to hold on to. But I think if you mentioned it, she might change her mind.”

Lucian shook his head slowly. “If she doesn’t want to share it, then let it be. Some songs are written for survival, not performance.”

Still, something about Amy’s words stayed with him. Something deeper. Something that made his heart stir in a way he wasn’t expecting.

Meanwhile, across town in a quiet hotel suite, the atmosphere couldn’t have been more different.

Sen sat slumped at the desk, papers scattered before him like discarded thoughts. His mind, however, was light-years away from contracts and deadlines. It was still trapped at the gala, in that single moment where time froze and the past came rushing back in the form of Cordelia Grey.

Or, as he still firmly believed—April.

“Sen,” Ophelia called gently from the bed.

He didn’t hear her.

“Sen,” she said again, louder this time.

He looked up, dazed. “What is it?”

“You’re still thinking about that singer, aren’t you?” she asked, voice cold and sharp.

Sen stared at her for a long moment before responding. “Ophelia, I swear… she’s April.”

Ophelia’s face twisted in irritation. “She said she wasn’t. You heard her. She’s Cordelia Grey.”

“You honestly believe two people can look that identical?” he asked, his voice rising with frustration. “Same voice. Same smile. Same eyes.”

“She’s different,” Ophelia snapped. “Her attitude, the way she carries herself—she’s not April.”

Sen rubbed his temples. “I don’t care what she said. My heart tells me it’s her.”

Silence stretched between them before a strange sound broke it—Ophelia’s sudden sobs.

She collapsed to the floor, clutching her knees like a frightened child. “If it really is her... then she’ll hate me.”

Sen’s eyes widened as he rushed to her side. “No, Ophelia. Don’t say that.”

“I killed her!” she cried, burying her face in his chest as her shoulders shook.

Sen wrapped his arms around her, guilt and confusion twisting inside him. “It wasn’t your fault. It was an accident.”

But behind the veil of her long lashes and trembling lips, Ophelia smiled.

A wicked, victorious smile.

Because if tears could erase suspicion, she’d drown him in oceans.

Back in her studio room, Lia was reviewing the final cut of her song. As her voice echoed from the speakers—clear, strong, heartbroken—she sat in silence, hugging her knees, staring at her own reflection in the black screen of her laptop.

A year ago, she had written another song. One that had never seen the light of day. A melody born from the betrayal, the heartbreak, and the cold sting of abandonment.

Maybe, just maybe, it was time the world heard that too.

Because she wasn't April anymore.

She was Cordelia Grey—and she had her own voice now.

And the world was about to hear every single note.