Chapter 3

Five days later, the music world exploded.

The headline was on every blog, every music site.

SPIN Magazine: "CALEB'S NEW EDGE: NASHVILLE STAR DROPS GRITTY SURPRISE ROCK ANTHEM."

My blood ran cold.

I didn't need to listen to it. I already knew.

But I did. I clicked the link.

The raw, distorted guitar riff ripped through my laptop speakers. It was my riff. The angry, desperate lyrics I had screamed into the cheap microphone of my 4-track were now coming out of Caleb's polished, auto-tuned mouth.

He stole it.

He stole it from my head.

There was no leak. No hack. This was something else. Something that broke the rules of reality.

My phone rang. It was Marcus. He didn't even say hello.

"I'm listening to it right now," he said, his voice a strained whisper. "Leo... how? How is this possible?"

"I don't know," I said, staring at the wall. The feeling of violation was deeper this time. It wasn't just my music he was taking. It was my thoughts. My soul.

The public narrative twisted instantly.

First, I was the plagiarist who copied "Desert Bloom." Now, I was the stalker, a failed musician obsessed with Caleb, trying to mimic his every move. My attempt to change things had only made it worse.

The despair was a physical thing, a heavy blanket pressing down on me. I had a second chance, but the devil I was fighting wasn't playing by the same rules.

He was in my head.

And I had no idea how to get him out.