The Glorify offices were magnificent—with floor-to-ceiling windows revealing Charlotte's skyline. Sophie sat in the waiting area, guitar pick dancing between her nervous fingers. She couldn't help humming under her breath, drawing glances from the receptionist.

  When they finally called her in, three executives awaited—all wearing identical expressions.

  "Sophie Reeves," the oldest one said, not looking up from his tablet. "Your socials are impressive."

  "I still can't believe people actually listen to my stuff," Sophie said, grinning. "It's wild to think strangers in other countries know my voice, you know? Sometimes I get messages from Brazil!"

  "The viral covers have good numbers," another executive said. "Engagement is strong."

  Sophie stood taller, her smile widening. This was happening. Finally happening.

  The lead executive slid a tablet toward her. "There's just one problem."

  "What problem?" Sophie asked, her accent thickening.

  "People listen, but they don't save. The algorithm predicts these as one-time listeners." The executive frowned. "High risk, low return."

  "But that doesn't make sense. My engagement—"

  "Dropped significantly this week," the youngest executive said. "We've run the numbers through our analytics team."

  Sophie's mouth fell open. "That can't be right. I just had a video hit 50,000 likes." She pulled out her phone, opened the app, and her face fell as she scrolled. "What the hell? Where did everyone go?"

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  "There must be something I can do," she said, lurching forward. "I'll make any song you want. I can do covers, originals, whatever. Put me in the studio tonight."

  The executives exchanged glances. "Four more songs. Professional quality. If they perform well, we can revisit."

  Sophie's heart sank. "Four more? Do you know what studio time costs?"

  "That's the offer. One month."

  "But that's—" Sophie caught herself before cursing. "Look, I'm sleeping on my friend's couch already. I sold my car to pay for the last session. I can't—" her voice broke, and she didn't try to hide it. "This was my last shot."

  The executives remained impassive. The meeting was over.

  Outside, Sophie sat on a bench, tears streaming down her face. She didn't care who saw. Four songs meant at least $5,000 in production costs. Money she didn't have.

  She called every producer she knew.

  "Please, Marco, I'm begging you. One song. Let me pay you when the deal comes through."

  "I need someone to just give me a chance. Just one break, that's all I'm asking."

  "Dave, remember when I sang at your wedding for free? I need a favor, man."

  Texts went unanswered. Calls to voicemail.

  She checked her socials. Followers dropping by the hundreds. Comments disappearing. It was as if the algorithm itself had turned against her.

  In desperation, she called her father. They hadn't spoken in months, not since the fight about her moving to Charlotte.

  "Daddy?" Her accent was thicker when upset, making her sound younger. "I need help."

  "What now, Sophie?" His voice was tired.

  "Four songs, Dad. That's all I need. There's this deal with Glorify but they need four more songs and—"

  "How much?"

  "Five thousand, maybe less if—"

  "Jesus Christ, Sophie." His sigh was heavy. "What more do you want us to do? Take a loan out on the house?"

  "Yes!" she shouted, then caught herself. "I mean, it's an investment. This is it, the big break I've been—"

  "That's what you said about Nashville. And Atlanta. And now Charlotte."

  "This is different!"

  "Goddamnit, Sophie." Her father's voice cracked. "You only call when you need something. Your mother's sick, have you called? No, because you don't call unless you want money. The answer is no. Goodbye."

  The line went dead.

  Sophie stared at the business card Roman had given her. Ted Hammond, VP of Content Acquisition at Glorify.

  The same man who had just rejected her.