"If you could wake up on time, eat breakfast, and have basic time management skills, I wouldn't have to." He checked his watch. "You have twenty minutes. I suggest you change. That outfit..." he glanced at my loungewear, "...isn't appropriate for public, even for rehearsal."
I stood frozen, half furious, half deeply powerless.
Richard was like an irresistible cold front, invading every corner of my life overnight, and I was helpless to stop him.
I bit my lip and stormed back to the bedroom, slamming the door.
When I arrivedat the rehearsal venue and stepped out of a Rolls-Royce, Emma's jaw nearly hit the ground. When Richard also got out, Emma was completely stunned.
Emma pulled me aside, voice low but nearly squealing with excitement.
"Natalie, oh my God, you and Mr. Winston... babe, I'm so proud! He's a billionaire!"
"Emma. Focus on work." I walked straight toward the stage, unamused.
I could feel Richard's gaze on my back, like two tangible beams. I tried not to care.
Rehearsal went smoothly enough. The only tension was Richard sitting in the front row in the audience. In his expensive, tailored clothes with that keep-away aura, he looked like some impossible-to-please executive inspector. Combined with his perpetually dissatisfied expression, everyone onstage felt the pressure. The band was clearly nervous, missing several notes. Even the usually joking drummer barely spoke.
During the break, Emma sidled over with the schedule, eyes constantly darting toward Richard. "Just confirming tomorrow morning's new single launch flow. Media's arranged, security's beefed up—plenty of people want to see Nightingale's real face, so security matters. Though with Mr. Winston here, I think we could dial security up to presidential protection level. Seriously, you and him..."
"There's nothing between us." I cut her off, taking the schedule, but Emma's words made me glance at Richardinvoluntarily. He was on the phone. He seemed to sense my gaze and looked up. I immediately looked away.
Stop looking, Natalie.
Richard was probably just uncomfortable that I'd suddenly left his life. Once he got bored, he'd leave naturally. Besides, in his mind, I was carrying someone else's child. Someone as proud and harsh as him—how could he accept that?
Still, another voice in my head asked—
What if? What if Richard wasn't just acting on impulse? What if he was truly determined to get back together?
I didn't dare keep thinking.
At the nextday's launch, I wore a custom black dress designed to cleverly conceal my small belly, face covered by Nightingale's delicate silver feather mask.
Before going onstage, I peeked through the side curtain and spotted Richard immediately.
He sat quietly in the boiling crowd, like a lion temporarily retracting its claws. The dark suit stretched tight across his muscles, his forearms filling the sleeves with taut curves, large-knuckled hands resting on his knees with faint vein traces on the backs.
He was just watching the stage, expression calm, even indifferent, but that presence was so powerful it seemed to pierce through the noisy air and pin me in place.
I yanked my gaze back and took a deep breath.
Natalie, now is not the time to swoon.
The launch opened smoothly. The preview snippet of my new song got enthusiastic positive feedback. During Q&A, the media focused on my real identity and Nightingale's creativeinspiration. I deflected with the half-true, half-false story we'd prepared. Emma looked relieved below.
Then commotion erupted in the back rows—arguing, maybe. Security moved that direction. Suddenly, a few people shot up from different spots, holding things, shoving aside staff and security, rushing the stage, pointing at me and shouting.
"Nightingale, my ass! Just a fraud!"
"Probably an ugly face under that mask!"
"Public figures shouldn't hide!"
Instantly, screams, chairs clattering, security shouting—chaos. The people in front jumped onto the stage edge. A man in a baseball cap reached for my mask.
I stumbled backward, about to fall.
