A taxi stopped right in front of a worn-looking old building. James Aron stepped out first, followed by Victoria and Emma.
Victoria looked up, assessing the building from bottom to top. "Why does this building look so run-down?" she asked, clearly skeptical.
Aron gave a small smile. "Only the exterior looks bad. Inside, it's different."
Emma nodded in agreement. "Most recording companies around here look like this."
Aron turned to glance at Emma. "So… are you ready?"
"Yes," Emma replied without hesitation, nodding confidently. "I'm ready."
"Don't worry," Aron said reassuringly. "Even if they hire top lawyers from Stonebridge Legal Group, they don't know you have the evidence. Let's see how big a lawsuit they plan to file first."
"Alright," Emma said, her expression showing a hint of excitement. "I can't wait to see their reaction."
"Then let's go."
Without delay, Aron stepped forward toward the main entrance, followed by Victoria and Emma. He pressed the doorbell button beside the glass door.
A few moments later, a woman appeared behind the door. She pressed a button on the wall, and the glass door slid open automatically.
"Mr. James Aron?" she asked politely.
"Yes, that's me."
"Please follow me."
The woman turned and led them inside.
The three of them stepped into the building. The interior was a stark contrast to its shabby exterior. The space was modern, neat, and well-organized—truly like a professional recording company.
Aron glanced at Victoria, as if silently sending a knowing message. Victoria tilted her lips into a small, understanding smile, fully grasping the meaning behind his look.
The woman continued to lead them up the stairs to the second floor. Upon reaching the top, they were taken to a glass-walled room. Through the walls, Aron, Victoria, and Emma could see several people already seated and waiting inside.
At that moment, Emma's steps faltered.
Her chest tightened as her eyes met the face of the singer who had nearly assaulted her—the man was also in the room. Fear crept through her rapidly, making her heart pound.
Victoria noticed the change. She reached out, gently placing a hand on Emma's shoulder.
"Don't be afraid," she said softly, yet firmly.
Emma took a deep breath before nodding firmly.
The woman opened the door to the meeting room. Aron stepped in first, followed by Emma, and finally Victoria.
But the moment Victoria entered, the atmosphere in the room shifted instantly.
Everyone seated seemed stunned. Their faces showed clear shock—some were frozen, others appeared mesmerized. The presence of the Vampire Queen had an effect that was difficult to describe.
Andrew suddenly rose from his chair, as did several others. The singer stepped forward and extended his hand—not to Aron, not to Emma—but to Victoria.
Victoria did not accept the gesture. She didn't even glance at Andrew's face.
Instead, it was Aron who shook the singer's hand, his grip firm and meaningful.
"James Aron," greeted a man in a sharp suit, extending his hand as well.
"Yes, that's me," Aron replied, accepting the handshake.
"I'm Stephen," the man said. "And this is my assistant, Miss Grace. We're from Stonebridge Legal Group."
Aron gave a faint smile. "Even hiring a well-known law firm… looks like this situation is serious."
Stephen responded in a professional tone. "As a lawyer, you know—defamation is a crime."
"Yes, I know," Aron replied calmly.
Suddenly, Andrew spoke, his gaze fixed on Victoria.
"And who is this woman?"
"She's my assistant," Aron said without hesitation. "Victoria."
Andrew gave a thin smile, his eyes still locked on her. "I didn't expect a woman this beautiful to work for an unknown law firm."
Aron chuckled softly. "Consider me luckier than you."
Andrew furrowed his brow, clearly displeased with the remark. But before he could respond, Stephen quickly interjected.
"Better we start the discussion now."
Andrew snorted lightly before returning to his seat. One by one, the others also sat down, and the tension returned—controlled but palpable.
Stephen opened a file in front of him.
"For your information," he said, glancing at Aron and Emma, "we will not be offering any settlement to Miss Emma. Since there is no solid evidence supporting the allegations against our client, Old Street has decided to file a lawsuit against her."
"What about the results of the hospital examination?" Aron asked, his tone calm but calculating.
"The injuries sustained by Miss Emma were found to be self-inflicted," Stephen replied without hesitation, sliding an already-open file toward Aron. "The official report has been issued. You may review it yourself."
Andrew leaned back in his chair, a small smirk playing on his lips as he looked at Victoria, as if the discussion unfolding held no interest for him at all.
Aron pretended to study the pages of the report for a few moments before lifting his gaze back to Stephen.
"How much is your client planning to sue my client for?"
"One million dollars," Stephen replied without hesitation.
"You do realize my client can't possibly pay that amount," Aron explained.
"If you know she can't pay, then don't dare defame someone," Andrew interjected arrogantly. "I'm not an ordinary man."
Emma remained seated calmly, her expression unchanged.
"Your client should understand," Stephen continued, "our client is a well-known singer. If these allegations spread, it would not only damage his reputation and career but also negatively affect this recording company."
"So, the lawsuit will proceed regardless," Aron said quietly. "No other offers? Perhaps our clients could settle this amicably, without resorting to legal action."
"Don't count on it," Andrew cut in with a cynical smile. "A lawsuit is a lawsuit."
Aron drew a deep breath before turning to Emma.
"What do you think?" he asked. "Do you feel… someone like him is still worthy of forgiveness?"
Emma gave a thin, controlled smile, her gaze fixed on Andrew.
"Don't expect me to forgive him."
Andrew chuckled, full of mockery.
"I'm terrified to hear that," he said before standing. "So. You now know how much you need to pay me, and I hope you can settle it as soon as possible. I'm leaving now."
"Wait, Mr. Andrew—"
Andrew's steps halted.
"You'd better sit down first," Aron said calmly.
But the singer remained standing, his body taut with tension. Aron didn't push. He slowly opened his bag and took out a tablet. His fingers swiped across the screen with deliberate, precise movements, as if every second had already been calculated.
Aron lifted his gaze toward Stephen.
"This is proof your client tried to assault mine," Aron said coldly, handing the tablet to the lawyer.
Stephen quickly took the tablet. His eyes fell on the screen, and his expression shifted slightly. Then he looked at Aron, as if seeking confirmation.
"Go ahead. Watch," Aron said simply.
Miss Grace pulled her chair closer to Stephen to watch alongside him. Andrew, meanwhile, remained standing, hands on his hips, his expression showing either indifference—or a deliberate attempt to appear that way.
Stephen tapped the screen.
The recording began to play.
The first voice that came through seemed to freeze the air in the room.
Andrew's voice.
Then Emma's.
That alone was enough.
Andrew's face changed instantly. The confidence that had radiated from him earlier began to fade. He stepped forward quickly, leaning in to see the tablet screen with his own eyes.
"Turn it off!" he shouted instinctively.
But the recording kept playing.
Word by word, tone by tone—it was all captured clearly. Each moment seemed to tear away the mask of arrogance Andrew had worn since the beginning.
Stephen straightened, his expression serious. Miss Grace covered her mouth, clearly shocked at the scene where her client had slapped Emma.
At the head of the table, Emma sat calmly. Her face was serene, yet her eyes never left Andrew.
"My client's demands are simple," Aron said, looking directly at Andrew.
"Two conditions. The first—Mr. Andrew must pay the amount you previously demanded. One million dollars. No negotiation. I'm sure that won't be a problem for a famous singer."
He paused briefly, letting the words sink in.
"The second condition," Aron continued, "Mr. Andrew must perform a song composed by my client. That's it."
Stephen and his assistant exchanged glances. Their faces showed confusion. The recording was too clear, too solid—there was no room to defend their client without digging themselves into an even deeper hole.
Andrew, meanwhile, sank into his chair. He rubbed his forehead, breathing heavily, as if the world that had always sided with him was collapsing slowly.
Aron rose from his chair.
"One thing I find puzzling," he said casually, though his tone carried sharp sarcasm, "is how the medical report could claim that the injuries on my client's cheek were self-inflicted. That's completely absurd."
He gave a faint, thin smile.
"But it doesn't matter. In reality, that fact changes nothing."
Aron reached for his bag.
"I'm giving Mr. Andrew three days to make a decision. If that time passes, we will proceed with legal action, and the recording will be handed over to the media."
His tone remained calm, but the meaning was clear—and dangerous.
"That's all. We're leaving now."
Emma and Victoria stood immediately.
Before stepping out, Victoria glanced at Emma.
"Do you want to say anything to him?"
Emma shook her head slowly, her face devoid of emotion—no vengeance, no pity.
Without another word, she and Victoria followed Aron out of the glass-walled room.
*
As soon as they stepped outside, all of Emma's bottled-up emotions finally erupted. She began bouncing with excitement, her face radiant.
"Thank you! Thank you, Miss Victoria!" she exclaimed happily, hugging Victoria tightly. Then she turned toward Aron, ready to hug him too—but Victoria stopped her.
"Just hug me," Victoria said firmly.
Emma tilted her lips, trying to hide her disappointment. "Better you two just get married already," she said with playful sarcasm.
Aron laughed, his warm voice filling the space between them.