Chapter 3

The weight of their gazes pressed down on me, a physical force. Jake's condemnation, Brittany's crocodile tears, the murmuring hostility of the crowd. It was all so familiar, a nightmare replaying with chilling accuracy.

Last time, this was when I'd crumbled.

The memory hit me with the force of a physical blow. Jake, his face contorted in rage, not with the measured disappointment he showed now, but with a raw fury. He hadn't given me a chance to speak. He'd grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my skin like talons, hissing, "You shameless little thief! I never want to see you again!"

He'd all but dragged me from the stage, the humiliation burning through me, searing itself into my soul.

The internet had been a wildfire. "Copycat Carter." "Melody Mugger." My face, twisted in a screenshot of shock and despair, became a meme for artistic theft. My parents... God, their faces. The shame in their eyes, not of me, but for me, for the cruelty I endured. The stress, the endless harassment, had broken their health, their spirits. They faded, leaving me truly alone before I, too, gave up.

Then, from the gray emptiness of whatever came after, I'd watched.

I saw Jake, the "principled" judge, propose to Brittany on a national morning show, their love story "forged in the fire of artistic integrity." Brittany, the "wronged ingenue," became America's new country sweetheart, her career skyrocketing on the back of *my* song, *my* tragedy. They'd even laughed about it once, a hot mic catching Jake saying, "Emily who? Best career move she ever made for us."

The memory was acid in my veins.

This time, there would be no crumbling. No bewildered tears.

I had traded my voice for my vengeance.

I met Jake's gaze, my own unreadable. The silence stretched. The director in the control booth was probably screaming for a reaction, for drama.

I would give them drama. Just not the kind they expected.