Part 137
The spotlight never left him anymore.
Everywhere he went — press, premieres, award shows — there were cameras flashing, voices calling his name.
Adrian!
Smile this way!
One more photo, please!
His fame had become something unreal, untouchable. The world couldn't get enough of him — his voice, his story, his perfect, steady rise after tragedy. The once-disappeared idol, now the living legend.
And tonight, he was performing at the Presidential Gala — an event watched across the nation. The chandeliers glittered above the marble hall, the air thick with money, power, and perfume. Adrian stood backstage, fixing his mic, calm as ever.
When he walked onto the stage, the audience fell silent.
His voice — smooth, aching, alive — filled the room.
Every lyric reached the edges of the hall, melting through gold and glass. When he finished, the applause came like thunder.
He bowed once, grateful but distant.
But when he looked up, his eyes caught hers.
The President's daughter — Liana.
Young, elegant, and striking. The kind of beauty that had never needed to chase anything because the world came to her. Yet in that moment, she wasn't the untouchable figure the media adored. She was simply staring at him — utterly transfixed.
Later that night, at the private dinner following the event, she approached him.
"You were… extraordinary," she said, her tone soft but sure. "No one sings like that."
He smiled politely. "Thank you."
"I've been a fan for a long time," she continued. "But seeing you perform live — it's different. It's like the room disappears."
Adrian gave a small laugh. "That's kind of you to say."
But her gaze didn't waver. "It's not kindness. It's truth."
She was bold, confident —her admiration didn't feel dangerous or obsessive; it was clean, golden, public. And yet… something about the intensity in her eyes made him pause.
"Maybe one day," she said lightly, "you'll sing just for me."
He didn't answer, only smiled again — that practiced idol smile that never gave away too much.
But as he left the event later that night, his car surrounded by flashing lights, something in his chest stirred. A strange sense of déjà vu.
Adoration. Attention. That unblinking gaze.
It all felt too familiar.