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"Harley, you're doing great. Let's run through it one more ti, but this ti go around, let yourself really feel it—don't be afraid to let everything out," I encouraged, watching her from behind the glass of the sound booth. "And... start." With a gentle nod, Harley took a breath; I pressed play, and the studio filled with music once more.
She threw herself into singing with a vibrant intensity, losing herself in the lody and the aning behind each word. It was beautiful, almost srizing, to watch her transform from the playful mischief-maker I'd always known into an artist pouring real, raw emotion into every note. She'd never sung professionally—just childhood mories of school recitals—but you'd never guess that from her voice today. During rehearsals, she didn't ntion boredom once; instead, she inhabited each song as if it was her own story.
Tonight, Harley was performing a piece I'd written just for her, a custom lyric set to Miley Cyrus's "Wrecking Ball."
{We clawed, we chained, our hearts in vain
We jumped, never asking why
We kissed, I fell under your spell
A love no one could deny
Don't you ever say I just walked away
I will never want you
I can't live a lie, running for my life
I will never want you
I ca in like a wrecking ball
I never hit so hard in love
All I wanted was to break your walls
All you ever did was wreck
Yeah, you wreck
I put you high up in the sky
And now you're not coming down
It slowly turned, you let burn
And now we're ashes on the ground.}
Every lyric held weight—her voice trembled on so lines, soared on others. There was heartbreak, pride, and liberation woven throughout the verses. The story told of loving soone whose heart is a fortress, of beating her own love against those defenses until only ruins remained. This was Harley's story, too—the tangled, dood passion she'd known with the Joker. But I'd changed the ending: in my version, she felt no regret for leaving. The freedom in her voice made it clear the pain had given way to strength.
I glanced at her through the studio glass, struck by how vulnerable and powerful she looked. What would the Joker think if he ever heard her sing these words—words I'd written for her, not him? I hoped I'd be ready for that day, ready to face whatever storm might follow. Or, if lucky, maybe the past would stay just that: the past.
"That's a good song," Alison remarked, nodding from beside . "Harley's a natural up there. We're watching a new star being born."
I couldn't hide my grin. "Business really is booming," I said, half-joking but mostly proud, soaking in Quinzel's performance.
Alison's voice grew animated. "I've launched promo campaigns for our two newest artists. The success we've been having is changing things for the studio—our reputation is skyrocketing, but that ans we can't afford to slip. The pressure's on."
I agreed. "Absolutely. And I still haven't paid Norwood back for all his little stunts," I added with a smirk, the old rivalry surfacing just enough to lighten the mood. "Gaga and Jackson can't fail now. I trust them, and I trust the songs we've made for them."
Blair nodded in support. "With your writing, I'm sure they'll shine. Honestly, the whole studio feels charged with possibility." She paused, then looked straight in the eye. "When do you plan on releasing your own album? People keep asking. You're our flagship talent, but apart from your piano album and a few singles, you've held back."
I shrugged, trying to be breezy. "I'll think about it. Maybe soon."
Harley continued singing, haunting the air with emotion. There was sothing special in hearing her—that warm, velvety timbre mixed with pure sincerity. The room grew quiet, everyone listening; even the technicians seed to forget their work for a mont.
"I wonder what she feels now," Dazzler whispered, her gaze never leaving Harley. "Fate really is strange. Not so long ago, she was doing the Joker's dirty work. Now she's here with us, singing about walking away from him—and not regretting it at all. You can hear it in her voice; maybe she's finally found where she belongs."
"Who knows?" I replied softly, wanting to believe. The song seed to fill every corner of the room with hope—maybe not just for her, but for all of us. For original chapters go to novelFirｅ
Dazzler smiled, her tone growing playful. "All this happened because of one particular person," she said, eyes twinkling in my direction.
"Oh, don't start that," I laughed, flustered but happy. "Life's ssy. It's like music—the notes get mixed up, but eventually, the lody seems to straighten itself out. I just help shuffle things into place."
"You do more than shuffle," the studio director teased kindly. "You've helped more than once, too. Don't think I haven't noticed—and I truly appreciate it."
Her words ward . "That's kind of you to say."
"It's just a little exasperating," she continued, only half hiding her jealousy. "You're giving Harley so much attention, and I still need help with my second album. You don't seem in any rush to help ."
I smiled. "You write great music; you know that."
She rolled her eyes. "Not like you do. Here—let's write a duet instead."
"You an, you and ?"
"Of course! We're the studio's biggest nas. We have to do a duet—it'd be criminal not to." She was so enthusiastic, I couldn't refuse her. What I didn't expect was her insistence that we write it right now. Argunts like "you can't just whip up a song instantly" didn't impress her. She had faith in my talent, and maybe that faith was enough—I was determined to give her my best.
We moved to the sa spot where Harley had been, and found ourselves preparing for sothing new.
"Alex, Alison—let's rock!" Quinn called, bouncing excitedly behind the glass. "Recording... Let's go!"
Her energy was contagious. For our duet, we decided on "Shallow"—the aching, hopeful anthem Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper perford in "A Star Is Born." The Oscar-winning piece felt perfect for the mont.
"Tell sothing, girl
Are you happy in this modern world?
Or do you need more?
Is there sothing else you're searching for?
I'm falling
In all the good tis, I find myself longing for change
And in the bad tis, I fear myself."
I did my turn and then it was Alison's turn.
"Tell sothing, boy
Aren't you tired trying to fill that void?
Or do you need more?
Ain't it hard keeping it so hardcore?
I'm falling
In all the good tis, I find myself longing for change
And in the bad tis, I fear myself.
I'm off the deep end, watch as I dive in
I'll never et the ground
Crash through the surface, where they can't hurt us
We're far from the shallow now." Dazzler sang her part with clarity and depth, and when we joined together, our voices wove in harmony—more powerful together than alone.
"In the sha-, shallow
In the sha-ha-sha-la-la-la-low
In the sha-ha, sha-ha-low
We're far from the shallow now."
As we finished, the room pulsed with excitent. Blair called out that we should film a music video imdiately—and of course, she expected to star in it. I couldn't refuse; her thrill was infectious. She smiled, her eyes lighting up like evening stars. I loved how she radiated joy, how her happiness washed through the room and made everything just a little brighter.
In monts like this, I rembered why I love music—not just for the sounds, but for the way it brings people together and lets their hearts speak out loud.
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