Chapter 2

My shock lasted for a full ten seconds before it hardened into cold, sharp anger. I didn't raise my voice. I didn't have to.

I pressed the talkback button on the console, my finger hitting the plastic with a firm click. My voice came through the speakers in the booth, low and clear.

"Get out of the booth."

Ava's smile faltered. She looked confused.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Reed?"

"You heard me," I said, my voice leaving no room for argument. "Put the microphone down. And get out of my studio."

Her face went from confused to panicked. She glanced around, as if looking for Liam to come and save her. He wasn't there. Her eyes started to well up with tears, a classic amateur move. I wasn't impressed. The entire control room was silent, everyone's eyes fixed on the drama unfolding behind the glass. The session musicians, the engineers, my assistant-they all knew how protective I was of this space, and of Liam.

Ava slowly placed The Nightingale back on its stand, her hands trembling. She looked like a child who had just been caught stealing. She pushed open the heavy, soundproofed door and stepped out, her head bowed. The air in the studio was thick with humiliation. Her big moment, her chance to impress the legendary Evelyn Reed, had turned into a public shaming. I felt a grim sense of satisfaction watching her scurry away, grabbing her bag from a corner and practically running out of the building.

Just as the door swung shut behind her, Liam walked in, carrying two coffees. He had a bright, carefree smile on his face that instantly vanished when he saw the atmosphere in the room.

"Hey, what's going on? It's dead quiet in here. Did I miss the apocalypse?"

He looked from my stony face to the empty recording booth. He noticed The Nightingale, standing alone on its stand.

"Where's Ava?" he asked, his voice casual, but I caught the flicker of concern in his eyes.

"I sent her home," I said, my tone flat.

He frowned, setting the coffees down on the console. "Why? She was just getting warmed up. I told her she could use my mic to get a feel for the room."

He said it so easily, so dismissively, as if it were nothing. As if he were talking about a spare guitar pick, not the symbol of our entire relationship. He was trying to downplay it, to act like it was a simple misunderstanding. It wasn't. It was a betrayal.

"I don't want her here," I said, meeting his gaze directly. "And I especially don't want her touching our things."

Liam let out a frustrated sigh. "Evie, don't be like this. She's a talented kid, she just needs a break. I was trying to do a nice thing."

"That's very noble of you," I replied, the sarcasm dripping from my words. "But her 'break' will not be happening in my studio, with my equipment. She's not welcome on this project. Find her another one."

My decision was final. I was the boss here. He knew it, and I knew it. But the look on his face wasn't one of understanding. It was one of frustration, aimed directly at me.