From A Producer To A Global Superstar

The investigators did not raise their voices.

That made the room worse for Clara.

Conference room three had been cleared before they arrived. Company legal sat on one side of the table with folders, laptops, and a recorder placed in the center. Two investigators sat opposite them. One was from special crimes. The other introduced herself as financial conduct. Both had already shown identification twice, first to reception, then to legal.

Clara sat near the end of the table with her tablet open and a legal pad beside it.

Nobody offered coffee.

The special crimes investigator, Ruth Halley, started with Nadia Bellamy.

"We need the development timeline," she said. "When Ms. Bellamy entered MM Label’s artist-development process, who approved her sessions, who arranged the private meetings mentioned in her counsel’s statement, and who removed her from the candidate list."

Company counsel answered first. "We will provide responsive records through the formal channel. Ms. Bellamy’s status in the program is being reviewed."

Ruth looked at him, then at Clara. "Ms. Dane, you worked in Mr. Erickson’s office at the time?"

Clara’s fingers rested on the edge of her tablet. "I was attached to executive support. I was not lead on artist development."

"That is not what I asked."

Counsel lifted a hand slightly. "She can answer within her direct knowledge."

Clara kept her voice steady. "Yes. I worked in executive support at the time."

The financial conduct investigator, Peter Iles, slid a printed page across the table. It was redacted, but Clara recognized the format. Internal schedule. Executive office tag. Hotel meeting note.

"Do you recognize this type of schedule entry?"

Clara looked at counsel before answering. He gave a small nod.

"Yes."

"Who could create it?"

"Executive assistants, senior scheduling staff, sometimes artist-development coordinators if they had authorization."

"Would a session vocalist be scheduled through this system for a normal studio meeting?"

"Sometimes. It depends on who requested the meeting."

Ruth leaned forward slightly. "This one was requested through Mr. Erickson’s office."

Clara did not respond.

The room waited.

Finally, she said, "That is what the entry shows."

Questions continued for nearly forty minutes. Nadia’s candidate list. The removal date. The risk folder. The containment tag. Who used that word inside MM Label. Who had access to complaint archives. Why someone tried to access the old records after the preservation demand had already been served.

Clara answered carefully. Legal stopped her twice. The investigators did not object loudly. They only noted the refusal, moved to the next question, then came back from another direction.

They were not guessing.

That was what Clara understood by the end.

They already had enough to know which doors to knock on.

Her phone vibrated on the table.

Michael.

Counsel saw the screen and shook his head once.

Clara ignored the call.

It came again.

Then a message.

Answer me.

Ruth noticed the phone but did not comment. She turned another page.

"We will need to speak with Mr. Erickson through personal counsel," she said. "Company counsel cannot answer for him on questions involving personal conduct, witness contact, or record access attempts."

Company counsel’s reply came fast. "We understand."

Clara looked down at the table.

That sentence carried more weight than the investigator’s question.

We understand.

MM Label’s lawyers were no longer speaking as if Michael and the company were the same body.

The split had started.

***

Michael was in the back room of a private club that no longer felt private.

He had gone there because the club had side access, old members, and staff trained to forget what they saw. Years ago, that had been enough. Now two photographers were still outside, and a young waiter had looked at him for half a second too long before placing water on the table.

His phone sat in front of him.

Clara was not answering.

Legal was not answering quickly enough.

Silas had warned him not to call shared people.

Michael ignored that first.

He called Senator Malcolm Reeve, who had once needed MM Label’s charity wing to clean an ugly donor story.

The senator’s aide answered first, then placed him on hold, then returned with a polite voice.

"Mr. Erickson, the senator is unavailable today."

Michael looked at the closed door of the room. "Tell him it is me."

"I did, sir."

"Then tell him I am not calling for a favor. I am calling about a misunderstanding that is being allowed to grow."

Another pause came through the line.

"The senator cannot be involved in any matter under active review."

Michael’s voice lowered. "He was involved when he needed my rooms, my artists, and my people smiling behind him."

The aide’s tone changed. "Mr. Erickson, any further communication should go through the proper channel."

The call ended.

Michael stared at the phone for a second and took a deep breath to calm himself.

Then he called Gerald Mott, owner of two major entertainment outlets and one business magazine that pretended not to take entertainment orders.

Gerald answered himself.

"Michael, I have three minutes."

"You’ll take five. Your culture desk is running Nadia Bellamy updates every hour. Pull them back."

Gerald did not speak right away. Michael could hear people in the background, then a door closing.

"I can’t do that."

"You can."

"No, I can’t. Not on this one."

Michael leaned back in the chair. "You owe me."

"I know what I owe you. I also know what this is. Sexual coercion allegation, documents, investigators at your office, board trouble, stock falling. My legal team will not let me touch it."

"Your legal team works for you."

"And I like staying out of court matters you should know this by now."

Michael’s hand moved across the table, pushing the glass of water aside. "Do not start acting clean with me, Gerald."

Gerald’s answer came slower. "I’m not acting clean. I’m acting safe. There’s a difference."

The call cut.

Michael cling his phone hard hoping to break it but forced himself to stay calm he needed someone on his side.

Michael’s next call went to an investor who had used him to force an artist acquisition deal two years earlier. The investor’s assistant said he was in a meeting. Michael called again. This time the man answered.

"Michael, I can’t talk long."

"You can talk as long as I need you to. Evenlyn is moving against me. I need the board reminded what happens if they separate from me during an active crisis."

"You should take temporary leave."

Michael went silent.

The investor continued, more careful now. "I’m saying that as someone who wants MM Label to survive. The market needs a clean signal. Nadia’s allegation changed the conversation."

"So you believe her."

"I believe investors hate uncertainty."

"You spineless little—"

"Don’t," the investor said, cutting him off for the first time Michael could remember. "Do not threaten me on a recorded line or an unrecorded one. I’m not your enemy, but I’m not standing beside you today."

Michael ended the call before the man could.

He sat there with the phone in his hand, breathing through anger that had nowhere useful to go.

Another name.

Another old favor.

Another person who suddenly had limits.

He called a retired police official who had once helped bury a drunk-driving arrest involving an MM Label artist. The man did not answer. A message followed a minute later.

Cannot assist. Do not contact me on this matter.

Michael almost threw the phone at the wall.

Instead, he called a private security fixer.

"I need names," he said as soon as the call connected. "Nadia Bellamy’s current address. Marissa’s lawyer’s office movements. Anyone entering Marianne Vale’s building."

The fixer did not ask for clarification. "No."

Michael sat still. "Excuse me?"

"No. I can run open-source background on public figures. I am not surveilling complainants in an active sexual misconduct matter."

"You’ve done worse for me."

"Yes," the man said. "And I regret answering this call already."

"You think refusing protects you?"

"I think saying yes destroys me so No."

The line went dead.

Michael looked at the phone.

The old network was still there. He could feel it behind every polite refusal. These people were not innocent. They were not brave. They were afraid of being seen near him while Nadia’s name was in every headline.

That made their refusal worse.

It was not morality.

It was self-preservation.

A message from Clara finally appeared.

Investigators are still here. They are asking for Michael through personal counsel. Company counsel will not let you join directly.

Michael typed back:

Tell them I am the company.

Her reply came after nearly a minute.

That is not how legal is treating it.

He read the sentence twice.

Then he called her.

She answered this time.

"You don’t write to me like that," he said.

Clara was not alone. He could tell by the way she measured the silence before answering.

"I am in the legal conference area. I cannot discuss the interview details on this line."

"You can and you will. What did they ask?"

"Personal counsel needs to be present before you answer anything. Company counsel said the same."

"I asked what they asked."

"They asked about Nadia’s development file, private meeting schedules, the containment folder, and the archive access attempt."

Michael pressed his fingers against his forehead. "What did you say?"

"I answered what I knew and what legal allowed."

"What I need from you is very simple. Nadia was a session vocalist. She was not a serious candidate. Meetings were standard. The development list changed because her numbers were weak. You understand?"

Clara did not answer quickly enough.

His voice sharpened. "You understand?"

"I won’t lie to investigators."

The room around Michael seemed to go quiet.

Clara continued before he could speak. "I am not making speeches. I am not volunteering things I do not know. But I will not sit in a recorded room and lie about files that other people may already have."

"You’ve forgotten who gave you that office."

"No," she said. "I remember. That is why I know what not to say on record."

Michael stood so abruptly that the chair scraped against the floor.

"You are alive in this industry because I allowed it."

Clara’s voice stayed low. "And right now, I am trying to stay alive outside your defense."

The call ended from her side.

For several seconds, Michael did nothing.

Then he swept the water glass off the table.

It hit the floor and broke near the wall.

Outside the room, someone stopped walking.

Michael opened the door before the person could move away. A waiter stood there with a tray, face pale.

"Clean it," Michael said.

The waiter nodded quickly and stepped around him.

Michael went back inside and shut the door.

His phone was already ringing again.

This time, the name on the screen was not one he expected.

***

Silas Vane received the first report while sitting in a private dining room above a members-only restaurant in Geneva.

He had not eaten much. The plate in front of him was mostly untouched. Across the table, an old banking contact spoke about regulatory schedules and tried not to look at the phone placed beside Silas’ hand.

The message came through a secure assistant line.

Erickson contacted Reeve, Mott, Harlan, Dale Security, and two media intermediaries within the last hour. Tone described as aggressive. One call referenced past favors. Another requested claimant location information. Investigators currently at MM Label asking about Bellamy.

Silas read it once.

His face did not change.

The banking contact stopped speaking.

Silas placed the phone screen down. "Continue."

The man tried. "As I was saying, any pressure on the review process would be noticed now. Given the public attention, even routine contact could be misread."

"Not misread," Silas said. "Read correctly."

The contact had no answer to that.

For the first time since the scandal began, Silas felt something close to irritation. His plan had been simple enough. Let Michael absorb the first wave. Let the public burn through its appetite. When the worst noise passed, small hands could adjust small things. Delay a document. Narrow an inquiry. Protect the older walls.

Michael had made that harder by acting like a man drowning in a room full of witnesses.

Silas’ phone rang.

He saw the name and answered.

The caller was attached to one of MM Label’s board-aligned legal channels. Not public. Not direct enough to be dangerous.

"We are being asked whether the internal review should wait for counsel coordination before any authority change," the caller said.

Silas looked toward the window. Geneva moved below in clean, expensive silence.

"Do not wait," he said.

The caller did not respond for a moment. "That is a significant step."

"Then make sure the wording is careful."

"You are advising full suspension?"

"I am advising clean separation before the next trading session. Michael is calling people he was told not to call. If the board hesitates, the company becomes part of his panic."

"The investigation would move faster."

"It should."

The caller understood enough not to ask whether Silas wanted Michael protected.

"What about external pressure?" the caller asked.

"There will be none from my side."

That meant more than the words said.

The call ended.

Silas sat back and picked up his fork, then placed it down again.

Michael had been useful for a long time. Dangerous, cruel, efficient, but useful. Silas had planned to keep him alive in the structure a little longer because three of the old circle were already gone, and being the last visible hand near the machinery came with its own risks.

That changed when Michael started calling shared contacts and asking for claimant locations.

A desperate man with files could be managed.

A desperate man making traceable calls could not.

Silas sent one message.

Begin separation. No delay.

By late afternoon, the investigators left MM Label through a side entrance.

They did not speak to the reporters outside. Company counsel walked with them to the elevator, face stiff and unreadable. Clara watched from the far end of the hall as the doors closed.

No one in the office relaxed after they left.

The questions had remained behind.

Nadia Bellamy’s development file.

Private meeting schedules.

Containment folders.

Archive access after preservation.

Michael’s personal counsel had been formally contacted for a recorded interview request. The investigators had also requested copies of specific records by close of business the next day.

Legal staff moved quickly after that. Outside counsel took control of the archive process. Access permissions were cut again. Department heads received another notice, stricter than the last.

Clara returned to her desk and found a new email from Evelyn Hart’s office.

Emergency board action — executive authority

She opened it.

The language was formal, but the meaning was clear.

Michael Erickson was suspended from operational authority pending investigation and outside counsel review. Effective immediately, he had no power to direct staff, access archives, approve public statements, communicate with claimants, alter campaign records, or represent MM Label in any investigative matter without board authorization.

Clara read the document twice.

Then she sent it to Michael because she had to.

He called within thirty seconds.

"What is this?"

"You received the same email I did."

"What is it?"

Clara looked across the office. People were pretending not to watch her.

"It is a suspension of operational authority."

"No."

"It is effective immediately."

"Get Evelyn on the phone."

"She will not take a direct call. It says all communication goes through personal counsel or the board secretary."

Michael’s breathing came hard through the line. "This is Silas."

Clara did not answer.

"This is Silas," he said again, lower this time. "That arrogant bastard."

"I don’t know who pushed it."

"I do."

Clara closed the email and opened the company directory. Michael’s access status had already changed. The red marker beside his name looked unreal.

He was still Michael Erickson.

But the system no longer treated him like the office.

"Michael," she said carefully, "you need personal counsel now. Not company counsel. Personal counsel."

For once, he did not insult her.

The silence stretched until she thought the call had dropped.

Then he said, "Send me every name on that board action."

"I can send you the official document."

"I said every name."

"It is in the document."

"Clara."

She closed her eyes for a moment. "I will not send anything outside approved channels."

Another silence.

This one was colder.

"You are choosing a side," Michael said.

"No. I am trying not to be buried with you."

The words came out before she could soften them.

She heard him understand them.

Then the call ended.

Clara lowered the phone slowly.

Around the office, work continued in the stiff, careful way people work when they know a collapse is happening and do not want their names attached to the wrong email.

Michael sat alone in the back room of the private club with the suspension letter open on his phone.

He read the same paragraph again and again.

No authority to direct staff.

No archive access.

No public statement approval.

No investigative communication.

No operational control.

For years, MM Label had moved when he moved. Staff answered because the cost of refusing him was known. Board members complained privately, then signed publicly. Lawyers cleaned language. Reporters softened headlines. Artists learned to smile at meetings they hated.

Now a document told him to stay away from his own machinery.

He thought of Silas.

No external pressure from my side.

Michael did not know those exact words, but he felt their absence. No calls had come to save him. No hidden hand had slowed the board. No old contact had stepped in at the last minute.

Instead, everything had moved faster.

His personal lawyer called.

Michael answered without greeting.

"You have been requested for a recorded interview," the lawyer said. "Special crimes and financial conduct. We need to prepare before you speak to anyone."

"I’m not going in like a criminal."

"You are not under arrest."

"Yet?"

His lawyer did not answer quickly enough.

Michael laughed once, bitter and low. "At least lie properly."

"I am not going to lie to you. The Nadia Bellamy allegation is serious. The preservation issue made it worse. The calls you made today may also become relevant if anyone reports them."

Michael stood and walked to the broken glass on the floor. The waiter had cleaned most of it, but one small piece had been missed near the wall.

He looked at it for a while.

"File the response," he said. "Deny everything."

"We can deny, but we need facts."

"You have facts. They are lying."

"Michael."

He hated the way the lawyer said his name.

Not with fear.

With caution.

"Prepare the response," he said again.

The lawyer tried to continue, but Michael ended the call.

A message arrived before he could put the phone down.

Unknown secure sender.

Only three words.

Separation has begun.

Michael stared at the message.

No signature.

No explanation.

It did not need one.

Silas.

His first reaction was anger.

The second was clarity.

Silas was not going to help him. Silas was not even going to wait.

Michael opened an old encrypted app he had not touched in months.

A password prompt appeared.

He typed the first passphrase, then stopped before entering the second.

Not yet.

But soon.

If Silas wanted separation, Michael would remind him what connected them.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!