Before my tour, I suddenly lost my voice. Fans gathered outside the agency's building, screaming for refunds. That very night, the company decided to shelve me. When I became the target of public outrage, only my boyfriend stood by me. He paid my exorbitant contract termination fees and took me to see top specialists all over the country. But just as I was deeply moved and about to accept his proposal, I accidentally overheard a conversation between him and my mother. "This batch is potent. Don't use too much." 1 "Give it to her every three days. This batch is incredibly potent, and I'm worried her throat won't be able to handle it if we push too fast." "She needs to be able to speak, but she can never sing again." In the dimly lit kitchen, Johnathan handed my mother a small plastic container. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I would have never believed it. I pressed my hand firmly over my mouth, terrified of making even the slightest sound. Johnathan lit a cigarette, taking a long, slow drag. "Sienna is proud. Just ruining her voice isn't enough to keep her under control. We need to find an opportunity to break her legs, keep her in a wheelchair for the rest of her life. They say a tortured artist produces the best work, don't they?" He blew out a stream of grey smoke, then slipped a breath mint into his mouth. Ever since my throat had failed, Johnathan had sworn to quit smoking for my sake. It was all a lie. He was just hiding it. My mother frowned, looking slightly uneasy. "Break her legs? But Sienna is still writing songs, isn't she? Can't you just take her compositions and give them to Gemma? Is it really necessary to go this far? If Sienna finds out I did that to her, she’ll kill me. I can’t do this." They stood in a tense deadlock until Johnathan pulled a black debit card from his pocket. "There's a hundred thousand dollars on this card." My mother’s face split into a wide, greedy grin as she eagerly snatched the card. The woman who gave birth to me, and the man I loved more than life itself. They were the two people who had played the roles of my devoted guardians since my tragedy. Now, they were plotting to cripple me. Three years ago, I was at the peak of my career, a rising pop star with a glittering future. But right before my first major stadium tour, my throat suddenly gave out. The pain of speaking was unbearable. When I asked my agency to postpone the tour, they refused flatly. "Postpone? Are you out of your mind?" my manager had screamed. "The building is surrounded by furious fans demanding refunds. The internet is flooded with rumors about you. We aren't taking the fall for your failure." That very night, they terminated my contract and slapped me with a massive lawsuit for breach of contract. My social media accounts were frozen, stripping me of any way to defend myself. While the world turned its back on me, Johnathan held me close, whispering that everything would be fine. He paid my exorbitant contract fees, hired top specialists, and stayed by my side. When every doctor shook their head and told us my voice was gone forever, Johnathan didn't give up. He brewed herbal remedies for me every day. Because he was busy with his family's business, he brought my mother to our apartment to take care of me. I used to think God had given me a sweet consolation prize after taking my dream away. What a joke. It was all a meticulous trap. Gemma was my college roommate and my colleague at the agency. I knew Johnathan and Gemma were close, and I knew my mother had always adored her. But I never imagined they would conspire to destroy me just to pave her way. My mother's bright smile cut through me like a blade, a cold ache spreading deep into my bones. "I already put sleeping pills in her tea," my mother whispered. "We'll do it tonight." I stared down at my empty glass, a single tear slipping silently down my cheek. When I opened my eyes, I was lying in a sterile hospital bed. My mother held my hand, tears streaming down her face. "Sienna, sweetie, I'm so sorry. I saw you sleeping on the sofa downstairs and tried to carry you up to bed. I just didn't have the strength. I lost my grip." I watched her theatrical performance in silence. But I couldn't stop my own tears from falling, hot and heavy onto her palm. Johnathan looked at me with deep, performative pity. Suddenly, he turned and slammed his fist into the concrete wall behind him, startling us both. "Sienna, don't be scared. I'm here," he said, kneeling by my bed and looking up at me with eyes full of tenderness. "If you can't walk, I'll carry you. I'll be your crutch for the rest of your life." The sweet words sounded like a sick joke. I turned my head away, burying my face in the pillow, letting the tears soak the fabric. My mother had never shown me any affection growing up. I had to work multiple part-time jobs just to afford my college tuition. But on the first day of university, she suddenly became a doting mother. She visited me weekly, eventually renting an apartment right next to the campus. Everyone envied me, but I knew the truth. Every time she visited our dorm, her eyes were glued to Gemma. When I complained to Johnathan back then, he merely shrugged. "You're being too sensitive. Why get jealous over something so trivial? It's not like your mom can actually become her mom." I stopped bringing it up, but the resentment lingered. After graduation, I was signed by a major label, while Gemma was rejected repeatedly. But a month later, she mysteriously signed with the exact same company. Rumors swirled that she was backed by the heir of the Blackwood Group, Johnathan. Johnathan had laughed it off. "She got in on her own merit, Sienna." The memory dissolved as the low murmur of voices broke my reverie. I had been awake for a while, keeping my eyes closed, absorbing every word of their hushed conversation. "Why don't you just marry Gemma?" my mother asked. Johnathan’s response was immediate and firm. "I promised Gemma I'd make her the biggest star in the industry. In this business, a dating scandal is career suicide, especially for someone at her level. Besides, Gemma’s songwriting is mediocre at best. To maintain her reputation as a singer-songwriter, she needs a constant supply of hit tracks. No one is better suited for that than Sienna." Painful memories in my dreams, a brutal reality in my waking hours. Johnathan had been laying the groundwork for Gemma since our college days. I was never his partner; I was just the stepping stone he meant to crush for her benefit. The realization choked me, and my breathing hitched. Johnathan immediately pulled me into a tight embrace. "I'm here, Sienna. I've got you." Over his shoulder, I caught sight of my mother’s face. She had tears on her cheeks, but her lips were curved into a triumphant smile. She was busy typing on her phone, and the screen caught my eye, displaying the contact name: My Baby. The profile picture was unmistakable. It was Gemma. I knew Johnathan hadn't cared for Gemma initially. Their relationship had evolved over time, his affection shifting toward her as she played the victim. But I couldn't comprehend why my own mother would throw her daughter away for a stranger. A dark suspicion began to take root. Using my memory, I searched for Gemma’s private social media account. Her latest post was from two days ago. It showed three silhouettes leaning against each other at a lavish dinner. I recognized Johnathan and my mother instantly. The caption read: A night to celebrate. Two days ago was the night my mother pushed me down the stairs. My heart hammered against my ribs, my fingers trembling as I scrolled through her feed. Almost every post featured Johnathan and my mother. The domestic bliss practically radiated from the screen. The best sweet and sour ribs in the world, made by Mom! I casually mentioned that I never got childhood gifts, and the next day a room was filled with presents. Mom and my boy are making up for lost time! Wanted to see the grasslands, so my boy booked the tickets and hotel instantly, and Mom packed my bags. I must be the luckiest girl in the world. They had traveled to so many places together. The bitter irony was that I had been to those exact cities too. Every few days, Johnathan would take me to see some distant specialist. I had been so touched by his care, never realizing that my medical appointments were just a cover-up for his holidays with Gemma. Seeing my mother’s affection for Gemma made me think of my own childhood. I had never had a birthday party, let alone a bowl of traditional longevity noodles made by her hands. I scrolled further down, my chest tight. She says I look exactly like her daughter who went missing years ago. She wants to be my mom. This was posted three days after university started. I stared at the screen, stunned. I had never known my mother had a missing daughter. But simply because of a passing resemblance, she had given all her love to a stranger. What did that make me? An unwanted child, receiving only the scraps of affection she had left over. Sienna, there is no one left in this world who loves you. On my fifth day in the hospital, Gemma visited, carrying a massive bouquet of lilies. My mother immediately handed Gemma a freshly peeled apple. "Give it to Sienna instead," Gemma offered with a sweet, plastic smile. I remained silent. Gemma sat on the edge of my bed, arranging the flowers in a glass vase on my bedside table. Within seconds, my throat began to tighten, the pollen triggering my severe allergies. I gasped for air, panic surging through me as I instinctively lashed out, knocking the vase to the floor. The glass shattered with a loud crash, startled cries echoing through the room. Gemma immediately shrank back, her eyes welling with theatrical tears. "I'm so sorry, Sienna. I completely forgot you were allergic to pollen. It's my fault." She hadn't forgotten. She had brought them on purpose. Even with the flowers on the floor, the microscopic particles hung heavy in the air. "Get them out," I rasped, my throat burning. Gemma whimpered, dropping to her knees to pick up the broken shards. But before her hand could touch the glass, my mother snatched her wrist. "Sienna, Gemma is a star now. Her hands are delicate. How could you let her do manual labor?" Johnathan chimed in, "She just forgot, Sienna. Is it really necessary to throw a tantrum?" He turned to Gemma, his voice dropping to a gentle murmur. "Don't touch that, Gemma. I'll clean it up." They coddled her as if she were made of glass, not even bothering to hide their devotion in front of me. Sensing the shift in energy, Gemma pulled out her phone and played her upcoming single. Johnathan frowned slightly, but didn't stop her. The moment the opening chords filled the room, my heart stopped. It was my song. The melody I had written late at night, before my voice was destroyed. "Our Gemma sings so beautifully," my mother cooed, her eyes shining with pride. "You were born to be a star. No one else could do this song justice." "This melody," I croaked, keeping my eyes fixed on Gemma. "It sounds incredibly familiar." Gemma's eyes flickered with a brief wave of panic. Johnathan immediately stepped in to shield her. "Thousands of songs are produced every year, Sienna. A few overlapping notes are completely normal." Before I could speak, my mother pinched my arm hard under the blanket. "Sienna, just because you can't sing anymore doesn't mean you should take your jealousy out on others. You and Gemma were roommates. You should be happy for her. Besides, you two should help each other. Why don't you write a few melodies for Gemma's next album?" She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a low, coaxing murmur. "And will my name be on the credits?" I asked, looking at the three of them. "Absolutely not," my mother replied without hesitation. "Your reputation is ruined right now. Putting your name on her work would only drag her down." I almost laughed aloud. They wanted my talent, but they wanted me dead to the world. A heavy silence settled over the room as they waited for my submission. I decided to give them exactly what they wanted. "Johnathan, buy me a house in the countryside," I said quietly. "I want to go there alone. You know I need absolute silence to compose. I'll write the songs there. It will be ready in time for Gemma's next release." Their tense expressions immediately dissolved into smiles, especially Johnathan’s. "Really, Sienna? You'll do that?" I nodded. Of course I would. Otherwise, who knew what other horrors they would devise to bend me to their will? Johnathan happily embraced me. That very night, he purchased a secluded property, Oakridge Villa, and tried to hire two nannies to watch over me. I refused the staff. I had my own helper in mind. I pulled out my burner phone and sent a single text: Come to Oakridge Villa tomorrow.
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