Chapter 1
My brother Thomas Foley and I were enemies.
He said musicians were useless. One phone call from him, and the police shut down the first concert of my life.
And so, I hacked his computer and sent the core code he had worked on for half a year to his competitor.
After that, he smashed my guitar in front of everyone and locked me at home so I'd reflect on my behavior.
In retaliation, I set fire to the antique piano he loved.
The flames swallowed the piano and then the entire villa.
I watched him charge into the burning house to save the piano, only to be crushed under a falling crystal chandelier.
I jumped out the window and ran.
Behind me, I heard his roar. "Ember, without the Foley family, you're nothing. I'll wait for the day you come crawling back."
I swore then I'd rather die outside than ever go back.
Five years later, we met again in an underground live house.
He stormed on stage and slapped me in front of everyone.
He yelled, "So this is what you've become? Screaming on a stage like a feral thing? You've disgraced the entire family."
He didn't know I was only performing there to pay for my medical bills.
*****
The music was so loud, it felt like the roof was about to blow off.
But then, out of nowhere, a loud slap sliced right through all the chaos.
The music stopped.
The force sent my head snapping sideways, and I staggered, nearly toppling into the speaker behind me.
My forehead throbbed with pain, and my ears were ringing nonstop.
The sickness churning in my gut from the immune system disorder shot straight up my throat. I clenched my teeth hard, barely stopping myself from throwing up right there on stage.
"Ember Foley!" a voice shouted.
A man in a custom-tailored suit—so out of place in this grungy club—was glaring at me, his eyes burning with fury.
It was my brother, Thomas Foley—the guy I hadn't laid eyes on in five years.
He didn't care about the gasps from the crowd—he just grabbed my hair and jerked my head up.
"Just look at yourself! Do you even remember who you are?" Thomas snarled. "If Mom and Dad saw what you've become, they'd be rolling in their graves."
It was always the same with him—whenever he started yelling, he had to drag our dead parents into it and shove their memory in my face.
Being the older brother made him think he had to play dad. It was the biggest shackle—one that kept us both trapped.
The crowd went wild, and people were already whipping out their phones to record everything.
"Holy shit, is that Thomas Foley—the guy in all those finance magazine covers? What's he doing here?"
"Wait, is that his sister on stage? Man, talk about a rich family scandal."
"Quick, film this! This is way crazier than the gig."
The flashes and laughter pelted me, every bit as sharp and painful as a hail of needles.
I shot my hand up and grabbed Thomas' wrist as he yanked my hair, then sank my teeth into it with all the rage I had.
Thomas let out a sharp, pained hiss.
He instantly let go.
I broke free, snatched up the mic, and with a raw, raspy voice, yelled at both the crowd and him.
"Mr. Foley, this is a public space, not your house. If you want to throw a fit, take it outside," I snapped.
"You!" Thomas snapped.
Thomas went pale with fury and swung his hand up, ready to slap me again.
"Get your ass home," he shouted.
"Mr. Foley," Noel Grimes, the bar owner, shouted from the floor.
He muscled his way through the crowd and strolled up to Thomas, wearing a fake grin.
He said, "Mr. Foley, chill out. You're putting on a real show for everyone. This is seriously embarrassing.
"Ember's our main act—she's got a contract here. You keep throwing fits like this, you'll trash my club and screw up my business. If people start saying I can't even look after my own crew. How am I supposed to hold my ground then?"
Trailing behind him were a handful of shirtless, muscle-bound guys, all looking rough.
Thomas downright despised guys like them.
As Noel's crew swaggered up, Thomas's two bodyguards stepped forward too. Tension grew.
Thomas didn't spare the muscleheads a single look—he just stared Noel down, his voice turning cold as steel.
"This is a family matter, none of your business," Thomas spat.
Noel just flashed him a grin, refusing to budge.
"Mr. Foley, you step into my place, you play by my rules. Ember's show isn't finished yet. If you want to haul her away, you'll wait till she's clocked out," Noel shot back.
Thomas's grip on my wrist was iron-tight, his hand still marked and bloodied where I'd bitten him.
He glanced at Noel—totally unfazed—then at the crowd of phones filming every second. Suddenly, he gave a cold, sneering laugh.
He let me go, calmly smoothed out his disheveled sleeve, and then pulled out his checkbook.
"Give me a number, Noel. However much business you lost, I'll pay you double for it," Thomas said.
He swiftly wrote out a string of numbers, tore the check off, and held it out to Noel.
"I'm throwing in another 150 thousand dollars—call it a little something for you and your boys," Thomas said coolly.
Noel's eyes went wide as he stared at the check, and in an instant, his face lit up with a fawning grin.
"Of course, Mr. Foley. It's all just a misunderstanding. You teaching your sister a lesson? It's perfectly natural, of course," Noel gushed.
He spun around and snapped at his crew behind him.
"Alright, everyone, back off. Can't you see Mr. Foley's handling family business here?" Noel shouted.
Thomas turned away from Noel, his cold, steely eyes locking right onto me.
"Are you gonna walk out yourself, or should I have my guys drag you out?" Thomas asked.
I knew, no matter what I did, there was no escaping tonight.
So, with the whole crowd holding their breath, I walked off the stage.
As soon as I got down, two bodyguards grabbed me by each arm.
Thomas stepped right up in front of me, fixing his eyes on mine.
"Ember, the fact I didn't set you straight five years ago? That's my failure," he said.
"Starting now, I'm taking it from the top—and this time, you're going to learn," he finished.