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PROLOGUE
OLIVIA
9 YEARS OLD
Istood there, my heart pounding like a drum, my small hands trembling at my sides.
The waiting room felt frigid, the harsh overhead lights casting a stark glare on the blank beige walls.
Mama had curled my hair that morning. She'd used a lot of hairspray, and the tight curls tugged at my scalp, making me wish I could scratch my head. She'd also spent the little money we had on a pretty, frilly dress that looked like it belonged to a princess. But it itched, and I was scared.
I didn’t want to be here.
I'd only ever sung at church and at home. I didn’t like this.
Mama and I stood there in uneasy silence, waiting for our turn. The tension in the room was so thick that it was suffocating. She finally turned her attention to my face, her gaze boring into me, her brown eyes filled with a cold determination that made me really nervous. She grabbed my shoulders firmly, her grip almost painful. "Olivia," she began, her voice low and sharp, "I need you to grasp just how vital this audition is. Our entire future hinges on this. Youcannotmake any mistakes."
I nodded hesitantly, trying to hide the fear that was bubbling up inside me. I didn’t even know what she meant. Did she mean I had to get all the words right? I could do that.
At least I thought I could.
"I understand, Mama,” I whispered, hating how her lips curled up in disgust at the sound of the nervousness in my voice.
She was pretty, like a movie star, with her hair all done up and her best dress on. Her eyes were always angry though, and her mouth was in a tight line, like she was trying to hold back. I wished she ever smiled at me. Her fingers dug into my arms, and she leaned in closer, her voice turning even colder. "You have a talent, Olivia, and I've spent everything to get you here. If you mess this up, if you embarrass us in front of those people in there, you'll ruin everything I've worked for. Can your little brain understand that?"
Tears welled up in my eyes as her words washed over me. If there was one thing that I hated doing, it was disappointing her. And it seemed like I was always doing that. "I'll do my best. I promise."
She didn't smile or show any sign of warmth. Instead, she released her grip on me and said, "You'd better. Because if you don't, if you waste this opportunity, I won't forgive you, Olivia. I won't forget it."
With that chilling warning, she straightened up.
Her cold words were still lingering in the air when there was a knock on the door. A second later it opened, revealing a young woman with short, dark hair and a serious demeanor, like this place never let her have any fun.
“My name’s Kylie. If you would follow me, please,” she said as she turned and started down the hallway, not bothering to look back and see if we were still behind her.
Mama pushed me forward and I followed Kylie down a dimly lit hallway adorned with framed pictures of famous musicianswho had once graced the same record label. Their faces stared down at us, and my nerves crept up my skin even more.
My fingers smoothed the frills of my itchy dress anxiously as we continued down the hallway. I could feel Mama’s tension radiating from her, and it made the silence between us feel even heavier.
We finally stopped in front of a metal door, and the assistant turned to me with a faint, sympathetic smile. She leaned in closer, her voice hushed, and whispered, "Good luck."
A second later, I was being pushed through a door, Mama close behind me. The huge room had walls that stretched up so high they seemed to touch the sky. There were big windows that let in the sunlight, making everything seem brighter. But even with all that light, the room felt dark and scary. There were men in suits sitting around a long table, their faces serious and their voices low. They looked important, like they could make things happen with just a word. I felt small and out of place standing in front of them. As the door closed, Mama’s words were still echoing around in my head, and knowing this was so important was making me even more nervous.
"Go on, Olivia," she whispered frantically, her voice strained and desperate. She stood behind me, her hands on my shoulders, but they felt heavy, like they were pushing me forward. "Sing."
As I looked at the men in their fancy suits and stern faces, I couldn't help but feel like a little mouse caught in a room full of hungry cats.
The way that they were staring at me…their eyes sharp, like they were trying to see inside my soul. Mama had told me they were important people from a record label. Was this how all rich people were? Intimidating? They were way more scary than the principal at my school, Mr. Henry.
I took a deep breath, trying to find the courage to start. The room was so quiet that I could hear the hum of the fluorescent lights above us. I squeezed my eyes shut and began to sing, my voice trembling like a leaf in the wind.
But something was wrong. The words caught in my throat, and my voice cracked. I couldn't breathe, and I felt like I was choking. My heart raced, and I opened my eyes to see the men still watching me, their faces unreadable.
Tears were welling in my eyes, and I wanted to run out of the room and hide. But I couldn't. Mama had said this was our chance, and I couldn't let her down. Not like I always did.
I tried to sing again, but all that came out was a soft, shaky whisper.
The men exchanged glances, and a few of them shook their heads. Another cleared his throat, and they all stood up.
