Echoes of a Silent Song

I was part of a famous duo with Brayden Reynolds in the industry.

He once shielded me from a stalker's acid attack and chose to go public with our relationship at the height of his fame, giving me a sense of security.

Everyone believed our story would end like the songs I wrote for him.

A perfect finale with the couple walking hand in hand toward happiness.

But then that girl sang our love song in a live stream, duetting sweetly with Brayden.

She even sent me the recording.

"Thanks for the hit song, Eve," she said. "And thanks for shaping Brayden into such a great man.

From now on, he's all mine." At the end of the video, Brayden stood half-naked, his back revealing a jagged, ugly scar.

I made a phone call, cranking the speaker to max, savoring the woman's fading screams through the receiver.

"Eve Walton!" Brayden's fiery rage burned in his eyes, but I just smiled and slapped the divorce papers and settlement agreement in front of him.

...

The living room was packed.

I counted twenty-eight people Brayden brought to confront me, two more than the witnesses at his proposal.

"What exactly do you want?" His temples throbbed with anger.

"You publicly sang our love song with her, and she had the nerve to taunt me, the real deal, to my face. And you have the gall to ask me that?" With a loud smack, I slammed my phone on the table.

Brayden's gaze flicked to the scar, his face tightening. "It was just a young girl's prank."

He lowered his voice, his tone ambiguous. "As colleagues in the same company, is it wrong to help her gain some attention? As for taking off my shirt, it was just a spilled drink. A coincidence."

"Listen to the nonsense you're spouting!" I grabbed a coaster from the table and hurled it at him. "Brayden, did you get kicked in the head? Don't you know how the media will spin this? After eight years together, we've finally made it this far, and you want to..."

"Enough!" Brayden slammed the table.

His resolve reminded me of the day he fought the company to sign me alongside him.

But today, I sat on the opposite side.

"You wrote plenty of hit songs for me, but I've also brought you fame and fortune. Eve Walton, we don't owe each other anything!"

His words were all about profit, not a whisper of love.

The only other time he used my full name was during his proposal two years ago.

Pain tore through my chest, but I was no longer the young girl he once protected.

I dug my nails into my palm, using the sting to force myself to stay calm.

"Joyce is still lying in the hospital! The doctors say she might never sing again!" Brayden clenched his jaw, his glare vicious enough to devour me. "You did this, and you don't even feel a shred of guilt?"

"And what if I don't?" I smiled, tucking my hands into my sleeves to discreetly wipe the blood from my palm. "Are you going to call the cops on me or ruin the hands that wrote your songs?"

The engagement ring on my finger gleamed mockingly.

"If you don't mind us both going down in flames, I'm happy to play along." After all, he swore during the proposal to stand by me through life and death.

But Brayden only curled his lips into a cruel smirk.

As he stepped toward me, his assistant instinctively moved to block him.

To outsiders, we must have looked like sworn enemies.

Before I could react, a white porcelain urn shattered at my feet.

Ruby, the golden retriever Brayden and I raised for six years, would never have imagined her beloved dad scattering her ashes after her death.

"If you don't offer a settlement we can both agree on, I don't mind playing dirtier." His gaze landed on my six-month-old kitten.

His sinister smile bore no trace of the tender boy from my memories.

"Don't you dare!" With a thud, I drove a letter opener into his shoulder.

I gave him a bloody smile. "Touch her, and I'll fight you to the death. Brayden, you know what I'm capable of. Divorce is fine, but harming my family is not!"

Even after Brayden left, my hand trembled around the blade.

The evening breeze lifted his sweat-soaked shirt.

The acid scar on his lower back faded more each day.

Just like our love, destined to vanish.

"What's your plan, Eve?" My assistant Kade stared at my bloodied palm, stunned. "Are you really going to divorce Brayden? Or grovel to Joyce?"