The ceiling looked like it hadn't seen fresh paint in decades. Cracks spiderwebbed out from the corners, yellow stains blooming like bruises.
I stared at them for a long time. Long enough to feel the weight of this body—the wrong body—settle around me like a too-tight coat.
This wasn't supposed to be my life. Hell, it wasn't even supposed to be a life.
And yet… here I was.
Sasha Lane. Twenty-two. Broke. Cancelled. Famous for all the wrong reasons.
I'd read enough of her memories by now to piece it together: streaming quotas, late-night hustles, desperate private chats to squeeze out tips and transfers. Her life was a cocktail of panic and pretense, sweetened with fake smiles and salted with fear.
She'd drowned in that cocktail.
But I? I wasn't going to drown.
I sat up, wiping at the grit in my eyes, and unlocked the phone again.
Stone's chat still stared back at me, a silent monolith of wealth and power. Ten thousand dollars. A man who could send that kind of money without blinking wasn't just some lonely simp. He was something else.
And he was still watching. I could feel it.
No reply to my message yet. Maybe he'd never reply. Maybe he didn't care.
But what if he did?
A slow, wicked thought curled in my mind.
You have her voice. Her stage. Her crown. And unlike her… you know what's coming.
I opened the drawer under the rickety desk and dug out a crumpled notebook. On the first blank page, I wrote in big, bold letters:
"Operation Comeback."
Step One: Survive this week. Rent due in five days. Bank balance: $400. Options: zero.
Step Two: Reclaim the throne.
If there was one thing Sasha 1.0 got right, it was picking VocalLounge. Video platforms were a bloodbath. You needed filters, lighting, makeup skills, and a face that didn't send children screaming. This platform? It was different. It was about sound. Mystery. Intimacy.
The perfect hunting ground for someone like me.
I opened the app.
For a second, I hesitated.
Would they even let me log in?
The scandal had exploded less than twenty-four hours ago. The forums were still on fire, hashtags like #CatfishQueen trending across the site. Agencies were probably scrambling to do damage control.
I tapped my thumb against the screen. The icon pulsed like a heartbeat, glowing purple and gold.
Click.
The login screen vanished. My profile loaded in, bathed in neon blues and pinks.
[VelvetVoice] – Level 42 Host.
The old Sasha's legacy. My new weapon.
The notification bar was a graveyard of chaos:
> — Your account received 356 new comments.
— Your agency sent you 5 messages.
— You've been removed from tonight's rotation.
And then, the kill shot:
> — Community Alert: Due to recent events, your profile visibility has been restricted.
Translation: I was shadow-banned.
My lips curved. Not gone. Not deleted. Just buried.
Bury me all you want. I'll dig myself out.
I scrolled through the messages. Most were insults, dripping with cheap outrage:
> — Freak.
— Pay back the gift money, scammer.
— Should've stayed faceless. Now I can't unsee that birthmark.
I ignored them. Let them bark.
When I win, they'll choke on their words.
A new notification blinked at the top of the screen.
[1 New Private Message – From: Stone]
My breath caught.
I tapped it open.
The message was short. Just two words.
"Don't disappear."
The hairs on the back of my neck prickled.
Stone. The man who'd dropped ten grand like it was spare change. The man who hadn't spoken in weeks. The man who chose now to speak.
A thrill shot through me, sharp and cold.
Why? Why now?
My fingers hovered over the keyboard, a dozen responses swirling in my head. Flirty? Casual? Cold?
In the end, I typed nothing. Not yet.
Because this wasn't the moment to chase. This was the moment to plan.
If Stone wanted me here, then good. He could watch. He could wait.
And when I returned, I'd make sure every eye on this platform burned for me.
---
I pulled up the agency chat next. Five unread messages from Muse Talent Network—my so-called management team.
> Muse Rep: Sasha, we need to talk. The situation is bad. We're putting you on suspension for now. Don't go live. Let this blow over.
Suspension? Cute.
I typed back:
[Sasha: Got it. Laying low.]
Then I closed the chat and opened the streaming dashboard.
"Velvet Notes" Music Hall – Live Now:
The list was a murder scene of ambition. Every slot filled. Every title screaming for attention.
> [LuxeLips] – Late Night Vibes 🎵 Top 10 PK Battle Tonight!
[SweetSerenade] – Guess Who Hit 200k Diamonds?
[EchoBelle] – VIP Room Open 💎 Come Play
PK battles. Diamond races. Event bonuses.
This was the jungle. And I was walking back into it naked.
I checked the leaderboard. Yesterday, VelvetVoice had been sitting pretty at #3 for weekly earnings. Now?
Rank: 112.
Ouch.
I leaned back in the chair, tapping my pen against the notebook.
Step Two wasn't going to cut it. I needed a ew Step One.
Something bold. Something loud. Something that screamed: The Queen is Back.
And I knew just the bait to throw.
I opened my profile settings and hovered over the Status Message field. The last one still read:
"Offline for a bit 💕 Miss me yet?"
I erased it and typed slowly, letting each word drip like honey.
"Miss me? Come find out tonight. Midnight. Private Room."
I hit save.
A warning flashed: You are currently on agency suspension. Going live may result in penalties.
I smiled.
Let them penalize me. I dare them.
Midnight. Five hours from now. Enough time to plan the perfect comeback stream. Enough time to sharpen the claws.
And when the clock struck twelve, the whole damn jungle would know:
VelvetVoice wasn't dead.
She was reborn.
And this time?
She wasn't playing nice.
To be continued…
---