Chapter 2

My fans were heartbroken and furiously tagged me online.

[Janus Lowell is a scumbag, Nerina. Run!]

[Nerina, don't dig for men in the trash. He drove his ex-wife to her death. Don't follow in her footsteps.]

[Nerina, did all your talent go to your voice, leaving you with no brains? You sing so well; you'd be famous even without Janus. Get a new agent.]

I wasn't the only one who saw these comments.

Janus also saw them and rushed to explain himself to me.

He said, "Nerina, all those comments online are lies. My ex jumped because of her depression, not me."

I had just showered and was carefully applying essential oil to my legs.

The essential oil smelled enchanting, and the whole room was filled with a sweet, rich aroma.

I looked at him lazily. "Don't worry, dear Janus. I don't believe a word of it."

Janus breathed a sigh of relief and wrapped his arms around me, burying his face in my neck. "You smell amazing. I want to devour you."

I frowned, disgusted.

I smelled lovely, but he smelled like a scumbag.

I was about to push him off when he released me and pulled out a folder.

He said, "Nerina, we rushed the contract before. This is a new addendum—I negotiated super generous terms for you. You get ninety percent of all album profits. Go on and sign it."

By now, the company was probably entirely under his control.

He hid behind its name like a shield, pretending legitimacy while being nothing but a scumbag.

No one probably remembered how Mira gradually built up the talent agency.

After 15 years in the industry, she went from a minor artist to a three-time award-winning Best Actress.

She'd nurtured the company into a top-tier agency.

After Mira married Janus, he claimed she needed to rest and prepare for pregnancy, forcing Mira to hand over her shares.

Mira probably never imagined that the company she'd painstakingly built would end up Janus' hands.

I glanced at the contract.

90% of the record profits would go to me—that was fine. But he'd kept silent about the endorsement fees and performance income.

Moreover, the contract would hold up for 50 years.

He really thought I was a fool.

Everyone in the industry knew record sales barely paid anything. The real cash was in endorsements and live performances.

And because I always acted dumb before him, he bought it.

Seriously? We merfolks had seen all these entertainment industry tricks on TV.

I even overheard Janus telling his mom on the phone that he'd found another fool like Mira, someone very easy to manipulate.

Once I signed the new contract, I'd be slaving away for him for the rest of my life.

I scoffed. No way was I working for him for free for 50 years.

But in the next second, I signed without hesitation.

It wasn't like I'd actually work for him for the full 50 years.

Legal validity? That didn't apply to me.

The one who signed the contract was the human Nerina Campbell. It had nothing to do with the merfolk Nerina Campbell.

He could come to the ocean if he wanted to enforce it.

By then, he'd already be oil for the lantern.

Clutching the signed contract, he sprinted off to get it stamped.

I watched his retreating figure.

How excellent. Janus was not only lustful but also greedy for money.

He was unredeemable, the kind who scammed and schemed against others.

I was ecstatic.

I was even more curious what else he wanted, now that he has both wealth and women.

With the new profit-sharing contract in hand, Janus stopped letting me record songs.

Instead, he threw me into a whirlwind of commercial gigs: two shows every three days, hopping across the country.

Soon, it became one show a day. I was constantly either performing or traveling to the next gig.

Endorsements piled up too, but they were the low-quality ones.

I was a rising pop star, but I was promoting aluminum windows, pig feed, and other odd brands—in towns, no less. Each appearance took half a day.

It was all for the money they offered; Janus didn't care about my future, only about money.

Over time, my body began to protest.

Every time I appeared in public, I looked exhausted.

Fans flooded the comment sections, furious.

[Janus, you scumbag. Stay away from Nerina. You'll ruin her.]

[Trash Janus, you only know how to exploit her commercial value. A birthday party gig? Really? You're treating her like a cash cow.]

[God, I'm so furious. My goddess, forced to endorse pig feed? Janus, you bastard, I'll gut you.]

[Bastard, let her record a new song already. She's a young singer, not your circus animal. Keep grinding her down like this and you'll kill her spirit.]

[Does anyone remember Janus' ex-wife, Mira? Same story—endless trash endorsements and cheap gigs before she broke. Will Nerina be the next Mira?]