Chapter 193: Our Star Flopped Bad

Emiliana stepped up onto the small stage, slinging an acoustic guitar over her shoulder. Standing in front of the high-end microphone with those powerful concert speakers towering beside her, she went dead silent. The diner fell quiet, too. She closed her eyes, her knuckles white around the neck of her guitar, and took one long, steadying breath.

Just as she was about to strum her first chord, the diner doors swung open. The other girls from the local band walked in, chatting loudly—until they froze, staring at the stage.

“Woah,” one of them gasped, staring at the sleek equipment glowing under the diner lights. “New mic and speakers? Awesome, let’s get up there!”

They started strutting toward the stage to take over their usual spots, but before they could lay a finger on the gear, I stepped right into their path, blocking the stairs with a calm smile.

“Sorry, ladies,” I said, leaning casually against the railing. “Stage is occupied tonight.”

Ruby stepped up right beside me, crossing her arms with a sharp, protective look. “It’s her turn to shine,” she added, nodding toward Emiliana.

The lead girl’s jaw dropped in disbelief. She scoffed loudly, rolling her eyes so hard they almost went into the back of her head, but with Mr. Gable sitting nearby and the sheer authority Ruby carried, none of them dared to push past us. They shoved their hands into their pockets and stomped over to a side booth, glaring daggers.

Unbothered, Emiliana opened her eyes, struck a single, vibrant chord on her guitar, and leaned into the mic.

Her voice hit the room like a wave—clear, soulful, and amplified with studio-grade perfection through Sarah’s high-tech setup.

The whole diner instantly went dead silent, every single person turning to look at the timid farm girl who was suddenly commanding the entire room.

Emiliana completely brought the house down. As her song picked up tempo, she started really turning up the energy, leaning into the rhythm, strumming her guitar with raw passion, and letting those soaring vocals flex through the studio-grade speakers. The entire diner erupted—people were clapping, stomping their boots, and cheering her on.

I couldn’t help but smile, genuinely happy seeing her shine like a true star.

A glowing blue System prompt flickered quietly in the corner of my vision:

[INVESTMENT DETECTED: TARGET EMILIANA] Equipment Purchase: $90,000 (Microphone & Speaker Setup) Confidence Multiplier: 2x Boost Applied Status: Unlocking Glow-Up Phase…

Ninety grand for a mic and speakers was loose change for me, but the 2x confidence boost multiplier meant her transformation was officially locked in.

Before I could dwell on the System notifications any further, Ruby grabbed me firmly by the hands and yanked me straight onto the open floor in front of the stage.

“Come on, billionaire! Stop standing there looking like a brooding manager!” she laughed, pulling me into the rhythm.

At first, my footwork was as clunky as a farm hand’s, but as Emiliana hit a soaring chorus, Ruby guided my movements, and we fell into a smooth, effortless groove.

The energy in the diner was electric, the music was pulsing through the floorboards, and with Ruby laughing in my arms and Emiliana owning that stage, the whole crazy night was turning into pure magic.

Just as the energy in the diner peaked, Emiliana reached for a high, soaring note—and her voice completely snapped into a harsh, jarring crack.

The high-tech speakers amplified the mistake with brutal clarity.

She froze mid-strum. The cheerful clapping died down instantly, leaving a suffocating silence hanging over the room. The entire crowd went dead quiet, staring up at the stage in awkward shock. Emiliana’s hands began to tremble on her guitar strings as raw, suffocating nervousness rushed back, completely shattering the confidence she’d built up all evening.

Her eyes darted around in panic before locking onto the side booth where the other girls were sitting.

Seeing their moment, the lead girl smirked, snatched a breath, and strutted right onto the stage. Before Emiliana could even recover her breath, the lead girl aggressively ripped the high-end microphone straight out of her hand.

“See?” the lead girl announced smugly into the mic, her voice booming through the diner. “Told you guys. Some people just aren’t cut out for the spotlight.”

She gave Emiliana a cold, dismissive shove aside as her bandmates rushed up behind her. Without missing a beat, they kicked off a loud, generic pop song to reclaim the crowd, pushing Emiliana into the background shadows like she was invisible.

Emiliana stood there trembling, staring down at her boots as the party carried on without her.

My blood boiled, and beside me, Ruby’s jaw set into a razor-sharp line, her eyes flashing with pure rage as she glared at the stage. ℯℯ𝑙.

I walked up to Emiliana as she stood on the sidelines, her head hung low. She stammered, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I… I don’t know what happened. My voice just… snapped…”

“Hey,” I said gently, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. “You practiced once without a vocal warm-up and still delivered a performance that blew everyone away until that single note. That’s incredible.”

Ruby stepped beside her, folding her arms and shooting a venomous glance toward the stage where the lead girl was smugly singing. “Exactly. That mistake means nothing. And frankly, singing in a dingy local diner isn’t something to brag about anyway.”

Emiliana wiped her cheek, looking up with a faint, sad smile. “Aliyah… she’s always been like that. She never misses a chance to kick me when I’m down.”

A sharp smirk formed on my face as an idea took root. “Then how about we give Aliyah something real to brag about?”

Ruby blinked, looking over at me in confusion. “What do you mean?”

I turned directly to Ruby, my grin widening. “A duet. With a world-famous pop star like you.”

Emiliana’s eyes went wide as saucers as she stared at Ruby in sheer disbelief. “Wait… she can sing? Like… really sing?”

“Of course,” I replied smoothly, giving a little shrug. “Though she’s having a bad day, so if you don’t feel like performing again, don’t force—”

Before I could even finish my sentence, Ruby was already marching toward the stage like a storm on the horizon.

She reached the edge of the stage, marched up the wooden steps, and casually unplugged the band’s secondary mics right from the mixer board. Since the whole sound system was bought with my Black Card, I had already walked over and cut the feed to Aliyah’s crew.

The backing track instantly died. Aliyah’s mic went completely dead mid-lyric.

“Hey! What the hell?!” Aliyah shrieked into a dead mic, tapping it in frustration.

The entire diner erupted in confused gasps and chatter. “What happened to the sound?” “Why’d she stop the music?”

Unbothered, Ruby snatched the main studio-quality wireless mic—the only one still live—right out of Aliyah’s hand, giving her a look so cold it could freeze fire.

“Move,” Ruby commanded in a voice that carried pure main-stage authority.

Aliyah opened her mouth to argue, but the sheer presence of a global pop star in a modest vintage dress backed her down instantly. She stumbled backward, completely speechless, as the rest of her band scrambled off the stage.

Ruby clicked the live mic on, the crisp audio humming through the heavy-duty speakers, and looked right down at Emiliana with a confident grin.