Chapter 1

The night of the CMA Horizon Award showcase, the air in Nashville was thick with ambition. I checked my phone for the tenth time. Nothing. Ethan was supposed to send the final details-time, venue, my performance slot. He knew this night was everything to me, the culmination of my grandfather' s legacy, a lifetime of playing bluegrass on a worn-out Gibson until my fingers bled.

My grandfather was in hospice, but he was holding on for this. For me.

The phone finally buzzed. A text from Ethan. "Babe, so sorry, huge mix-up. It's at The Bluebird, 9 PM sharp. Go kill it. I'll be in the front row."

Relief washed over me. I texted back a string of heart emojis and grabbed my guitar case. The Bluebird Cafe was an iconic venue, a perfect place to secure my nomination.

But when I arrived, the place was quiet. Too quiet. The manager looked at me, confused. "Showcase? Honey, that was last night. Tonight's just a regular open mic."

My blood ran cold. I frantically called Ethan. No answer. I called again and again. Straight to voicemail. Panic clawed at my throat. I knew, with a sickening certainty, what had happened.

I raced across town to the Ryman Auditorium, the actual venue. I was too late. The final act was taking their bow. I saw Ethan in the wings, his arm draped around Jennifer Todd. She was smiling, a triumphant, venomous glint in her eyes. She had gotten the last nomination spot. My spot.

Later, when I finally cornered him at his penthouse, he didn't even have the decency to look guilty. He was pouring two glasses of champagne.

"What the hell was that, Ethan?"

He handed me a glass, which I refused to take.

"Babe, relax," he said, his voice smooth as Tennessee whiskey. "Jennifer needed this. Her mom, you know the history. It's a debt I have to honor."

"A debt? What about me? What about my grandfather?"

"You're a true talent, Nicole. A real artist. A year's delay won't hurt you. You'll get there. Jennifer needs this break now. It's just business."

He said it so casually, as if he were discussing the weather. He dismissed my dream, my grandfather's dying wish, as a minor inconvenience.

"We're done, Ethan."

He laughed. "Don't be dramatic. You're not going anywhere."

He was wrong. My online performances, the ones I'd posted out of sheer desperation, had gone viral. The industry was buzzing. A week later, the CMA committee announced a surprise "wild card" nomination. It was mine.

Jennifer was furious. And when Jennifer got furious, Ethan got dangerous.