Ch 1: The Price of a Soul

The persistent, shrill ring of the smartphone was like a needle to the brain.

Mia Jaxon groaned, her hand fumbling blindly across the nightstand until her fingers brushed the cold glass of the screen. The digital clock mocked her—9:45 AM.

A tight, suffocating knot formed instantly

in her chest.

She was never late.

She had never missed an alarm in three years.

She pushed herself upright, bringing the phone to her ear with a hand that had suddenly started to shake.

"Yes?" she croaked, her voice thick and heavy with sleep.

"Mia! Where the hell are you?" The voice of Mr. Kwan, her boss, exploded through the speaker with enough force to make her head throb.

Mia winced, pulling the phone an inch away from her ear. "I—I'm at home," she stammered, her heart hammering against her ribs.

"What?!" The volume intensified, sharp and jagged. "Do you have any idea what time it is? How dare you still be at home! Get your ass here now!"

The line clicked dead. The silence that followed was heavy with the weight of her own mistake. Why today? Of all the days to oversleep...

"Shit," she mumbled, the remnants of sleep vanishing instantly.

She moved like a whirlwind—a frantic blur of a morning shower, clothes thrown on with shaking hands, and a skipped breakfast that her stomach was already protesting. Every red light on the way to the music publishing company where she worked as a songwriter, felt like a personal insult from the universe; every delay, a quiet accusation.

By the time she reached the building, her heart was pounding so violently it felt as though it might break free from her ribs. She barely allowed herself a moment to breathe before pushing open the door to Mr. Kwan's office.

The air inside was different. Heavy. Tense. Almost suffocating.

Mr. Kwan sat behind his desk, his face a mask of simmering irritation. Opposite him sat a bulky man in a sharp suit, and beside him…

Mia's breath caught. She would recognize that face anywhere.

The woman didn't simply sit; she commanded the space. Poised. Elegant. Untouchable.

Diana Marie.

Mia felt something small and uncertain tighten within her.

"You are late, young lady," Kwan said, his brow furrowed into a deep, unforgiving canyon.

"I know, Sir. I'm very sorry!" Mia replied quickly, her voice steadier than she felt. Her gaze flickered briefly toward Diana before dropping again.

Kwan let out a sharp, impatient sigh. "I'll overlook it this time," he said curtly. "Sit down."

Mia obeyed, lowering herself carefully into the leather chair beside the pop sensation. The air in the room felt tight, charged with a corporate pressure she knew all too well.

"Miss Diana is here for a song," Kwan began, his eyes gleaming with greed as he glanced at the star. "And she's ready to pay any amount to get it. And you are going to provide it."

Mia felt a bead of cold sweat at her temple. "Mr. Kwan… I don't currently have any completed work. If you could give me two days, I can refine something suitable—"

His expression darkened almost immediately. "We don't have time for delays, Mia," he said, his voice sharpening. "This is business, not a charity."

"I understand," she said, swallowing the sudden spike of panic in her throat. "Give me forty-eight hours. I'll deliver a commercial-grade draft by Wednesday morning."

"But that raises a question." Kwan leaned back slightly, studying her with a look that made her stomach tighten. "If you have nothing… then who wrote A Girl Like Me?"

The world seemed to tilt. For a moment, Mia couldn't breathe.

A vivid image flashed across her thoughts—the worn, leather-bound notebook she kept tucked away in her desk, its pages filled with her rawest lyrics, scribbled in shaky handwriting during her darkest nights. It was a private piece of her soul, a song she intended to sing herself one day.

"How did you… find that?" she asked, her voice dropping, edged with sudden ice.

"On your desk," Kwan replied dismissively. A greedy grin stretched across her face. "I read it on Friday while you were out for lunch. The title caught my eye, and the lyrics... Mia, they're exceptional. Exactly what Miss Diana needs. That's why I called her over immediately."

A slow, sharp heat rose within her chest. "You went through my private things?"

"I recognized an opportunity," he said flatly.

"No."

The word slipped out before she could restrain it.

Clear.

Unyielding.

Kwan stilled.

"I'm not selling it," Mia said, her voice gaining strength as she lifted her gaze to meet his. "That song is mine."

"What?" Kwan's face turned a dangerous, mottled shade of red. "If you refuse, you understand the consequences. Your career here is finished."

"I don't care," Mia snapped back, her resolve hardening like steel. "It's not for sale. I wrote it for myself. It's… not something I can give away."

"Do you have any idea how much money Miss Diana is offering?" Kwan's restraint snapped, his heavy hand striking the desk with a sharp, echoing sound. "It is just a piece of writing, Mia! Grow up!"

"I said no!" Mia stood her ground, rising to her feet to match his anger. "That song means everything to me. It is the only thing I have that is truly mine. I won't sell it. Not for money, not for anything. And if it's 'just a piece of writing,' then you should have no problem writing one for her yourself!"

The silence that followed was lethal.

Diana Marie stood up, the sharp, deliberate clack of her heels cutting through the tension like a gavel. Her expression remained entirely composed, a mask of cold, flawless indifference.

"What is this, a circus?" the pop star said coolly. "Mr. Kwan, I don't have time for this." She turned, her gaze passing over Mia without lingering. "I'll take my business to a professional company with writers who actually want to work."

With a fluid, practiced grace, she swept her designer handbag from the desk and walked out of the room, the scent of her expensive perfume lingering like a ghost.

When Kwan turned his gaze back to Mia, there was no longer irritation in his eyes. Only cold dismissal.

"You're fired."

The words landed with a quiet, devastating weight.

Mia blinked, her heart plummeting into her stomach. "What…?"

"Get out of my office," Kwan growled, his finger trembling as he pointed toward the door. "And don't you ever come back."

Mia stood frozen, dumbfounded by the sheer speed at which her life had fractured. Three years of effort, of endurance, of silent compromise—gone. Just like that.

The air felt thin, the walls closing in on her. She wanted to scream, to defend the three years of hard work she'd poured into this place, but the words were gone. She was utterly speechless.

Slowly, she turned.

Each step toward the door felt heavier than the last, leaving behind her desk, her career, and the only stability she had.

When she stepped outside, the morning sun spilled across the city in brilliant gold. But it felt distant. Cold. Indifferent.

Mia Jaxon stood there, unmoving. She had protected her soul. But as she looked out at the busy streets, she realized she had absolutely nothing else left.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***