At the end of the evening, the lights of the city shimmered like a dream slowly fading into the darkness of the night. Dylan returned home with his uncle. The party had been dazzling, filled with laughter, music, and false appearances. Dylan was silent, his mind replaying the events of the evening like an old movie. Something about Ryder's eyes… Andrea's smile… Daniella's voice… it all felt like a haunting memory.
As they drove back to the villa, his uncle, seated in the driver's seat, glanced at him.
"You did well tonight, Dylan," he said with a proud smile. "You're becoming everything I hoped for."
Dylan forced a smile. "Thanks, Uncle."
But suddenly, out of the silence of the road, a car ran a red light. A blinding flash of headlights. A sharp scream of tires. Then… darkness. The violent impact flipped the car over. Dylan lost consciousness.
When he opened his eyes again, he was at the hospital. A nurse was checking the monitors, and everything around him felt too bright.
"My… uncle?" he whispered with difficulty.
The nurse looked down, and her expression softened with pity.
"I'm sorry, young man… your uncle didn't make it."
Dylan's world shattered. The only person who had stood by him, who had believed in his potential, was now gone forever. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he quickly wiped them. This wasn't the time to cry. Not now.
Two days later, the funeral was held. It was a beautiful evening, the kind where the wind carries sorrow and memories like whispers. Musicians came to play solemn melodies. Dylan stood in front of the casket, dressed in black, eyes empty.
After the ceremony, Dylan returned to the villa alone. The silence in the house was unbearable. Every object reminded him of his uncle. The piano in the corner. The photo on the wall. The cup still sitting on the kitchen counter.
But that night, someone rang the doorbell. Dylan opened the door to see a tall man in a black suit, holding a leather briefcase.
"Mr. Dylan Lenoir?" the man asked.
"Yes…"
"I have a legal document for you. Your uncle left you everything in his will."
The man handed him the folder and left without another word.
Dylan sat on the couch and opened it. The first page confirmed it: the entire fortune, the house, the cars, the company, all of it belonged to him now. But as he flipped through the pages, his eyes widened.
"What…?" he whispered.
His uncle hadn't told him… but he had also been the official producer of three rising stars in the music industry: Ryder, Daniella, and Andrea. The contract made it clear: "In the event of my death, all rights and responsibilities over my current musical acts will be transferred to my nephew, Dylan Lenoir."
Dylan was stunned.
So that's why they were all at the party. That's why his uncle was so involved in the music scene. And none of them knew. None of them knew that the person they had left behind, the friend they had forgotten, was now their producer.
He leaned back on the couch, eyes staring at the ceiling.
"Fate has a strange way of playing with us…" he murmured.
The next morning, he dressed sharply in a black suit and sat at the large office desk in the studio room. Papers were spread before him, schedules, recordings, tour plans. They were already stars now… and he was at the center of it all.
Suddenly, his phone rang. It was Andrea's manager.
"Hey, Dylan. We heard the news. We're really sorry about your uncle. He meant a lot to us."
"Thank you," Dylan replied calmly.
"We were hoping we could talk about the upcoming album. The release date, the new recordings…"
"Yes," Dylan interrupted. "Schedule a meeting for tomorrow morning. I'll be ready."
After the call, he closed his eyes. His heart still carried the wounds of betrayal, of abandonment. But now, he had the power to choose: to forgive… or to make them feel what he had felt.
At that very moment, Ryder was sitting in his studio, humming a new melody. Daniella was rehearsing for a performance. Andrea was writing new lyrics. None of them knew that the one person they had hurt the most was now holding their future in his hands.
Dylan stood, walked toward the window, and looked out at the city.
"From now on," he whispered, "it's my turn."