Pathetic Diva

Harper Quinn closed her eyes, letting the heavy, melancholic instrumental intro wash over the breathless crowd. She gripped the silver microphone stand, her knuckles turning white under the glaring, solitary spotlight that pierced the dim theater. The ethereal, heartbreakingly beautiful melody of her voice soared through the massive opera house, filling every dark corner and echoing off the grand, vaulted ceilings. She poured her absolute soul into the heartfelt ballad, refusing to hold a single ounce of emotion back. She tilted her head upward, locking her tear-filled eyes strictly on the tinted, impenetrable glass of the Celestial Private Room suspended high above the audience.

"I must be crazy now," she sang, her voice trembling with raw, unfiltered longing that reverberated through the massive speakers. "Maybe I dream too much. But when I think of you, I long to feel your touch..."

Down in the thousands of velvet seats, the fans sat paralyzed. The sheer power of her vocal range and her bottomless lung capacity commanded their attention, but it was the crushing, palpable desperation in her delivery that held them hostage.

"I wish I could go back to the very first day I saw you," she continued, a single tear breaking free and tracking slowly down her flawless cheek. "Should've made my move when you looked in my eyes..."

The massive crowd began to piece the puzzle together with jarring clarity. This was not merely a performance to entertain them. This was a direct, undeniable confession. Every single lyric bleeding from Harper's lips was a genuine, desperate whisper of love, aimed like a precision arrow at the mysterious man sitting hidden in the VIP suite. She was begging him.

Harper dropped to her knees on the polished wood of the stage, bowing her head toward the glowing glass of the room. She lifted the microphone for the final, devastating crescendo. "I love you," she sang, her voice breaking into a pitiful, pleading cry. "Please say you love me too. These three words, they could change our lives forever."

The final note rang out, hanging heavily in the silent air. Harper kept her gaze fixed on the private room.

A few seconds of dead silence stretched across the venue. Then, a massive wave of bitter, violent jealousy ripped through the audience. The men in the crowd ground their teeth, their faces flushing red with fierce anger. Their untouchable diva, the goddess they worshipped, was publicly debasing herself, pleading for the affection of a man who wouldn't even show his face.

"Come out and meet Queen Quinn!" a man in the front row screamed, his voice cracking with rage. "How can you be so heartless?"

The dam broke. Dozens of enraged men leaped from their seats, aggressively pointing their fingers at the Celestial Private Room.

"If you're a man, come out now!" another shouted. The furious chant caught fire, echoing through the grand theater as the crowd demanded the mysterious figure reveal himself.

Inside the Celestial Private Room, completely isolated from the screaming thousands below behind the soundproof glass, Vance sat on the plush leather couch. His face remained a mask of cold, unbreakable indifference. He ignored the chaos he had caused. Instead, he stared down at his hands, idly toying with a cheap beaded bracelet wrapped around his wrist. Audrey had given it to him years ago. He rubbed his thumb over the worn, inexpensive beads, his mind entirely disconnected from the superstar begging for him on stage.

Down on the stage, Harper wiped the tear from her cheek and brought the microphone back to her lips. She let out a light, melodic laugh that instantly cut through the hostile chant.

"Guys, please stop that," she said, her tone teasing and fond. "He's very busy."

The crowd groaned, frustrated but instantly pacified by her bright smile. The explosive tension fizzled out into a low murmur of disappointment as they realized the mysterious figure was never going to reveal himself. Harper transitioned smoothly into her next set, carrying the electrifying concert through its final hour before retreating backstage.

The biting chill of the night air hit Audrey the second she pushed through the heavy brass doors of the grand entrance. She wrapped her coat tighter around her shoulders, navigating the massive, dispersing crowds spilling onto the pavement. Chloe walked close beside her, scanning the chaotic sea of people until they spotted Preston and Bryce standing under the harsh glow of a streetlamp.

"Audie, how are things inside?" Preston asked, stepping forward with a wide, eager smile.

Audrey nodded, offering a tight, polite smile. "Everything's good. Thank you, Preston."

Preston waved his hand rapidly. "You're welcome." He glanced down at the expensive gold watch strapped to his wrist, noting the late hour. "It's eleven o'clock now. It's late."

Bryce leaned against the brick wall, a sly, crude grin spreading across his face. He looked at Audrey, then at Preston. "Audrey, why don't you go get a room with Press tonight? Since it's late now, there's no point in going home."

Preston’s eyes lit up with predatory hope. He looked ready to throw his arms around Bryce in pure joy.

Audrey stopped dead in her tracks. Her expression instantly turned ice-cold. She glared at her brother, her chest heaving with deep offense. "What nonsense are you talking about?" she snapped, her voice cutting sharply through the ambient noise of the street.

Chloe stepped up, rolling her eyes. "What's the big deal? It's going to happen eventually."

Bryce scoffed loudly, his disgust for his sister's loyalty to a 'loser' like Vance boiling over. "Honestly, it doesn't matter who you sleep with. What is so good about Vance? He's full of crap." Bryce glared down at the dirty, coarse gunny sack sitting by Audrey's feet. Vance had dumped it there earlier, claiming it held a fortune. "Look at this sack. How could he say there's one million..."

Bryce pulled his leg back and aggressively kicked the dirty fabric.

"Oh, shit!" Bryce yelped.

He kicked it too hard. The heavy, rotting fabric of the gunny sack split completely open down the middle. Massive, tightly bound wads of crisp, real hundred-dollar bills burst from the seam, tumbling out onto the concrete. The sharp streetlights caught the green ink, illuminating an unimaginable pile of physical wealth.

The four of them froze. Absolute silence fell over the small group. They stood speechless, staring at the literal mountain of cash resting in the dirt at their feet.

"There really is cash inside!" Bryce gasped. He immediately dropped into a deep squat, his hands shaking as he grabbed the torn edges of the sack and ripped it further apart. Row after row of banded hundred-dollar bills stared back at him.

Preston stood paralyzed, his jaw slack. Audrey stared at the split bag, her mind spinning wildly. Chloe's breathing hitched. Her eyes gleamed as she stared at the raw, undeniable fortune. The visual impact of one million dollars in physical cash was intoxicating.

"How could it be cash?" Preston muttered, his expression darkening into a serious, tight grimace. He couldn't fathom where a pathetic pushover like Vance could acquire this kind of money.

Audrey’s shock rapidly morphed into intense anxiety, followed by a burning, deep-seated irritation regarding her husband's hidden wealth and how he obtained it. What dangerous things had he done to get this?

"How did Vance manage to gather so much money?" Audrey hissed. She clenched her fists. "I have to go home now and ask him what's going on!"

She spun around to leave, taking two furious steps before halting. She turned back around, her eyes locked on the pile. She hastily dropped to her knees, her hands flying over the stacks of bills. She counted with frantic, precise movements. One hundred thousand. Two hundred. Five hundred. Six hundred thousand.

She gathered the massive stack of bills against her chest, stood up, and shoved the heavy load directly into Preston's hands.

"Preston, I'll return six hundred thousand to you," she declared, her voice firm, forcefully severing the debt that had been hanging over her head.

Without waiting for his response, she dropped back down, tightly clutched the remaining four hundred thousand against her coat, stood up, and rushed to the curb. She hailed a passing yellow taxi, threw herself into the backseat, and sped off into the dark night to confront Vance.

Preston stood on the sidewalk, the heavy blocks of cash pressing against his chest. His eyes tracked the taillights of the taxi, gleaming with a dark, twisted obsession.

He hastily turned to Bryce, shoving the six hundred thousand dollars into the younger man's arms. "Bryce, do help me to keep the money."

Before Bryce could process the weight in his hands, Preston sprinted toward his parked luxury car, the engine roaring to life as he peeled out into the street to follow Audrey's taxi.

Bryce and Chloe were left standing completely alone on the sidewalk, the cold wind rushing past them. Bryce stared down at the fortune resting heavily in his arms.

Chloe slowly turned her head. Her eyes locked onto the money, gleaming with unadulterated, poisonous greed. She stepped closer to Bryce, her shoulder brushing his.

"Bryce," she urged, her voice dropping into a smooth, deceptive whisper. "Let's keep them for ourselves."

Bryce blinked, pulling the money slightly away. "No, they belong to Preston."

Chloe scoffed, stepping into his space, weaving her manipulation effortlessly. "It's okay, Bryce. Think about it. Preston is unimaginably wealthy. Six hundred thousand means nothing to him. Plus, once he finally succeeds in getting your sister to sleep with him, I bet he would even give you six million if you ask for it, let alone a measly six hundred thousand."

Bryce stared at the cash. He thought about his massive, suffocating gambling debts. He thought about the loan sharks breathing down his neck. He swallowed hard. The weight of the money was too real. Chloe's words wormed into his brain, swaying him easily.

"Okay," Bryce breathed out, his grip tightening greedily on the wads of cash. He looked up at Chloe, agreeing to steal the money. They turned and hurried down the street, carrying the stolen fortune into the shadows.

Deep inside the heavily guarded corridors of the opera house, the thick oak doors of the Celestial Private Room swung open. Harper rushed inside, her chest heaving. The moment she met Vance face-to-face, a radiant, overwhelming joy lit up her features. Her eyes sparkled with moisture, brimming with so much intense love they looked ready to overflow.

She took a step forward, ready to throw her arms around him.

Then, she stopped.

Her sheer joy instantly snagged on a single, tiny detail. Vance was standing near the center of the room. Stamped clearly across the heavy fabric of the jacket he was wearing was a distinct, custom logo.

Harper’s breath hitched. Her mind flashed to the endless scrolling she had done earlier. How dare Diana ask Van to give her a ride and even post it on Instagram for the whole world to see?

Vance felt the sudden shift in the air. The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention. He narrowed his eyes as he met her fierce glare. "What's wrong?"

Harper marched up to him, her lips forming a deep, unhappy pout. "Is it fun riding the bike with Diana?" she demanded.

Vance blinked, completely baffled by the ambush. "How do you know about that?"

Harper yanked her smartphone out of her pocket. Her thumb aggressively swiped across the screen, pulling up Diana Maxwell's Instagram profile. She shoved the glowing screen directly into Vance's face. The picture showed Diana clinging to Vance's back on the bicycle, the exact same jacket logo visible in the frame.

"Instagram," Harper snapped.

Vance stared at the photo. A vein throbbed in his temple. In that exact second, he wished he could reach right through the digital screen, wrap his hands around Diana's throat, and strangle her.

Harper let out a short, sudden chuckle, her anger melting away into something much more dangerous. "Anyway, this just proves how charming you are!"

She took a step closer, entirely unconcerned with Audrey's feelings. She didn't give a single damn about his marriage. Harper closed the distance between them, pressing her warm, soft body flush against his side. "I want you to give me a ride, too," she demanded softly, her voice dipping into a sultry register.

Vance sighed heavily, looking down at her. "Are you kidding me? Your performance tonight will be on the news first thing tomorrow morning. If the ruthless paparazzi get a hold of a photo of you riding on a bike with me in the middle of the night, you can kiss your incredibly bright future goodbye."

Harper shook her head stubbornly. She wrapped both of her arms tightly around his thick, muscular arm. She leaned into him, deliberately pressing her breast firmly against his arm. She rubbed her breast against the heavy leather of his jacket, using her body to coquettishly coerce him, her eyes pleading up at him. "I don't care about that. I want you to take me on a ride."

She squeezed his arm tighter. "That's because I'm with you."

Vance stole a quick, subconscious glance down at her cleavage, taking in the expanse of fair skin exposed by her stage dress. Defeated by her absolute, stubborn perseverance, he sighed again. He deliberately stepped back slightly, breaking the intimate contact to create a sliver of physical distance between them.

"You're choosing a bike over a Rolls-Royce?" he muttered, shaking his head. "Fine. But my wife likes you very much. Mind giving me an autograph as an exchange?"

Harper’s smile widened into a radiant, victorious grin. "Deal."

Half an hour later, the cold night wind whipped through a quiet, desolate alleyway on the outskirts of the city. Vance pedaled the bicycle down the cracked pavement, the gears clicking rhythmically in the silence.

Sitting sideways on the back of his bicycle, Harper held her phone high in the air. She leaned her shoulder against Vance's broad back, making sure the distinct logo on his jacket was perfectly framed in the shot.

She snapped the picture.

Without a second of hesitation, Harper opened the Instagram app. She selected the photo, tapped the upload button, and sent the exact same picture Diana had posted out to the public, instantly sparking a massive, uncontrollable war across the internet.