Marcus Thorne was supposed to be untouchable.
At least, that's what he always told himself.
He stood in the grand ballroom of the Aurora Charity Gala, the kind of event where billionaires patted themselves on the back under glittering chandeliers and photographers flashed like strobe lightning. The air smelled of expensive perfume, rare wines, and faint arrogance.
He should have felt at home.
Except he didn't.
Not tonight.
He moved through the crowd with the precision of a predator. Every smile he gave was calculated, every nod measured. He had planned this night for months: Titan Management's latest stars would be paraded on the red carpet, charities would be thanked, and he—Marcus Thorne—would be seen as the invisible hand keeping the glittering machine alive.
And yet…
Whispers trailed him.
From every corner.
Not about the usual things. Not about his new idols, his endorsements, his iron-fisted contracts.
They were talking about a web-novel.
A song.
And a name they didn't know.
"A.R. King?" one woman murmured to her friend, her tone filled with awe. "The Queen's Gambit? Chapter 3… I can't stop reading."
The sound of it made Marcus freeze mid-step.
He adjusted his cufflinks and moved toward a familiar face: a prominent music critic, someone who had spent years feeding his ego with polite praise and industry gossip.
He cornered the man near the champagne fountain, glass in hand.
"What is this nonsense?" Marcus demanded. His voice was low, dangerous. "Avery Rivers is finished. Done. You've read the press, correct? The leaked footage? The scandals? She's—finished."
The critic raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by the display. "Marcus," he said slowly, carefully, "have you listened to her song? The one that went viral last week? Or read this… novel everyone's talking about?"
Marcus sneered. "A song? A web-novel? Those are distractions. Trivialities. An artist in the gutter does not become relevant again. I've blocked her access to everything that matters."
The critic's lips curved in a faint, pitying smile. "That's the problem, Marcus. You didn't block her. You built a sieve and thought it was a wall. The song—The Last Song, right?—it's explosive. And the writing—A.R. King—it's not just good, it's transformative. It makes everything else look like garbage. Not because it's perfect, but because it's honest. She's not holding back anymore."
Marcus's hand tightened around the stem of his glass. He didn't notice the slight tremor in his fingers until the crystal shattered against the marble floor, scattering shards like frozen stars.
The room went silent for a heartbeat, then resumed. But Marcus didn't care. He stared at the pieces on the floor as if the fragments themselves were an omen.
His blockade—his carefully curated chokehold over distribution, airplay, and press coverage—had failed.
It had never worked.
Not because he was incompetent.
Because he had underestimated Avery Rivers.
And underestimation was a luxury he could no longer afford.
Later that evening, he retreated to a private lounge, dark and quiet, filled only with the soft hum of air conditioning and the faint smell of scotch. His usual confidence had fled. In its place: panic.
He poured himself a drink, the amber liquid catching the dim light. One sip. Two. His mind raced.
Every figure he had tried to suppress, every channel he had blocked, every contract he had enforced—none of it mattered. She had bypassed the system. She didn't need their platforms. She didn't need their approval. She had built her own.
A web-novel. A viral song. An independent site. A story people couldn't stop reading.
And she had done it without anyone knowing it was her.
Marcus slammed the glass down. The scotch spilled across the mahogany table. He didn't care. Anger and disbelief surged like wildfire through him.
"She's… cheating," he muttered. "This isn't just talent. It's… manipulation. Strategy. She's playing a different game entirely."
Meanwhile, in her basement, Avery leaned back in her chair, watching analytics rise like a tide.
[Aurelian Vault Traffic – 2.7 million unique visitors in 24 hours][Average Chapter Reads – 8.4 million pages][Social Media Mentions – 120,000 posts/hour]
She smiled faintly.
The System chimed.
[External Emotional Spike Detected: Titan Management][Target: Marcus Thorne][Emotion: Panic, Frustration, Insecurity]
Avery tilted her head. Her Ice Queen aura shimmered faintly in the dim glow of the laptop screen.
"First face-slap," she murmured. "And it won't be the last."
Her hands moved over the keyboard, typing subtle posts to fan discussions, plant theories, and stir curiosity. The viral wave wasn't accidental—it was carefully directed. Each conversation about A.R. King, each shared image of the story, each exclamation of wonder, was a chess piece moving into position.
The world didn't know it yet.
But Marcus did.
And he hated her for it.
In Titan's corporate tower, alarms weren't literal. But figuratively, the panic had spread through the hallways.
Julian Vane stormed into Marcus's office, red-faced and furious.
"Marcus! What's happening? The song, the novel, the forums—she's trending everywhere. Everywhere! And she's anonymous! We can't touch her!"
Marcus sat silently, staring at a screen showing A.R. King fan threads, analytics dashboards, and mentions of The Last Song.
"You've underestimated her," he said finally, voice low, dangerous.
Julian blinked. "Underestimated? She's dead, Marcus. She's done. We controlled her!"
Marcus leaned forward, his eyes dark. "You think you controlled her. You didn't. And you won't. Because Avery Rivers isn't playing by their rules anymore. She's playing by her own."
Julian's jaw tightened. He hated that tone. He hated the certainty in Marcus's voice. He hated the fact that, deep down, he knew it was true.
"Then what do we do?" Julian asked, desperation seeping through his bravado.
Marcus's gaze went cold, calculating. "First… we watch. Then… we adapt. If she's going to move like this, we'll need to anticipate. But right now…"
He let the sentence hang.
The words didn't need to be finished. The implication was clear: she had already landed the first blow.
The first face-slap.
And Titan Management had felt it.
Back in her basement, Avery closed the laptop and leaned back.
The glow of the screen faded against the darkness of the room.
Her smile was small, almost imperceptible.
[System Notification: Phase 1 – Cultural Domination, complete][Phase 2 – Multi-Platform Expansion, ready]
She stretched, fingers brushing the keyboard.
Soon, she would move from literature and music to the next pillar: television.
The 11:00 PM special. The hidden broadcast.
The Hive would awaken.
And Marcus—Marcus Thorne—would be forced to understand that the girl he thought he destroyed was no longer the same Avery Rivers.
She was something else entirely.
She was a storm.
And he had just felt the first face-slap.
End of Chapter 18