Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Zena’s stomach bubbled with a mixture of anticipation and dread as she stepped out of her car and into the blazing afternoon sun.
This was her first official session since that intimate session with Danger.
A formal email from his company had arrived days later, containing a stack of legal documents for her to sign.
She hadn’t signed a single thing, nor did she plan to without her own representation.
She had learned that lesson the hard way from her past.
While a part of her was full of excitement, the rest of her remained cautious.
She needed to know exactly what this arrangement was, and she fully intended to enlighten Danger on a few boundaries.
Just in case he tried to manipulate her or eventually demanded his upfront investment back, she had already withdrawn the entire balance in cash, tucked safely in her bag.
The last thing she needed was another powerful man believing he owned her body or her art.
Zena pushed through the building's revolving door and walked straight to the security desk to sign in.
The guard instructed her to head up to the second floor and wait in the main conference room.
Though she had visited this place countless times while she was cleaning, she had never seen it during the day, when it was so full of life.
People walked all through the lobby; groupies trailed behind rappers, and even Wanda, the day-shift receptionist, walked past with a warm wave and a smile.
Today, Zena wore a bright yellow matching tracksuit with low-top Adidas.
She had spent an hour worrying she was being far too casual for a business meeting, but Amari had assured her she looked comfortable, authentic, and ready to handle business.
She desperately wished Amari were standing beside her right now, but her friend had prior obligations she couldn't cancel. Zena was on her own.
Her signature black shades rested firmly over her eyes, shielding her from the world. Her unruly morning curls were pulled back into a slick, tight ponytail until Amari had a chance to properly press them for her.
The glass conference door swung open, and Danger walked in, followed by a petite, pretty woman. Danger strutted toward her, stepping into her personal space to offer a brief hug.
“Zena. I'm so glad you were able to make it today,” Danger said, his voice smooth as he took his seat at the head of the table. “Let’s get straight to business. This is Yasmin, my executive assistant.”
Yasmin gave her a warm, genuine smile. She was drop-dead gorgeous, sporting a perfectly sculpted short, curly afro.
“I’m happy to be here. Honestly, I still can’t believe this is happening.” Zena said, a flash of genuine excitement breaking through her guarded exterior.
“I’m just happy you decided to take a chance on your voice again,” Danger replied, leaning forward.
“Look, I know I initially said we could work on a small demo package or get you into commercial songwriting behind the scenes. But I’ve spent the last week looking at the bigger picture.
I have a different vision for you. Zena, I want to officially discuss signing you as an artist with Dangerous Records. ”
Zena’s chest tightened, the warmth in the room evaporating.
“I came here to talk to you about that, Danger… I can’t do that.
I legally cannot sing anymore. I still owe a debt to Royal Reign.
I’ve been blackballed from the industry for years.
If I drop a single vocal under my name, their legal team will strip me of everything. ”
Danger didn’t flinch. Instead, he nodded briefly to Yasmin, who slid a manila folder across the oak table. Zena opened it, eyes widening as she looked over the pages. It was a copy of her original predatory recording contract with Royal Reign.
“I’ve spent the last month doing my homework,” Danger said.
“I had my entire legal defense team dissect every single clause in that paperwork. We’ve already reached out to the executives at Royal Reign with a formal buyout offer.
We are prepared to pay off the remaining balance of your debt so you can gain 100% ownership of your original 'Princess Z' masters.”
Zena stared at him, stunned.
“What… why would you do that without telling me?” Zena stammered as panic surged. The last thing she wanted to do was stir the pot with her old abusers. She had spent years paying her money, keeping her head down, and staying out of the limelight just to survive.
“We have the situation under control,” Danger assured her, his tone leaving no room for argument. “My team handles predatory contract buyouts all the time. It’s what we do.”
“No, Danger, you don’t understand,” Zena whispered, her hands trembling as she clutched the folder. “That era of my life was… traumatic. I just want to leave Princess Z dead and buried behind me.”
He studied her, then he nodded slowly. “That’s fair. I’ll hold off on pressing the issue until I hear back from them.”
Later that afternoon, Danger stood in his private office, staring out through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the crawling city traffic below. Internally, he was tearing himself apart.
His initial attempt to acquire the rights to the Princess Z catalog had run into a brick wall.
Even after he instructed his team to double the valuation and present a staggeringly generous counteroffer, Royal Reign refused to budge.
They claimed her contract was nullified by her past breaches, yet they refused to release the master’s or allow her to record elsewhere.
He had dealt with stubborn labels before.
Just two years earlier, he had fought tooth and nail to buy out his top artist, Devotion, from a predatory contract with GrindHouse.
GrindHouse had used every underhanded legal tactic in the book to keep him, solely because Chi was the only artist on their roster generating any real revenue.
Danger and his attorneys had done what they did best. They squeezed, negotiated, and bought him out.
After a three-million-dollar wire transfer and a mountain of corporate paperwork, Devotation was officially a Dangerous Records artist.
But for Zena? Danger’s team had thrown an extra million on the table, and Royal Reign had responded with radio silence.
Why did he feel as if he had just stepped directly into a trap? There was a piece of this puzzle missing, a darker truth about her past that Zena wasn't telling him.
The static on his desk phone broke his train of thought. His lawyer, Trent, was on speakerphone, his voice echoing through the office.
“Even if Royal Reign were to suddenly accept our current buyout offer, Dmitri, I have to advise you against it,” Trent said clinically.
“In my professional opinion, it is reckless for a growing label like Dangerous Records to take on such a...” Trent paused, searching for the correct term.
“...such a risky liability right now. Frankly, she isn’t worth the capital or the trouble—”
Danger didn't let him finish his sentence. A fury flashed through his veins.
“I’m glad I didn’t ask for your fucking opinion on her worth, now, did I, Trent?” Danger snarled, his voice dropping into a dangerous tone.
Across the room, Yasmin’s eyes bulged in shock. He knew she had rarely seen him lose his temper with his own legal team, but the disrespect toward Zena had breached his armor.
“I mean no disrespect, boss,” Trent stammered through the speaker, his confidence cracking.
“It’s just… I’ve been making inquiries within the industry networks.
The word on the street is that she is trouble.
The old files from her past label claim she missed mandatory studio sessions, assaulted venue crew members, caused repeated public disturbances, and was entirely impossible to collaborate with.
The list goes on and on. Her reputation is radioactive. ”
He knew what that was. It was lies. The coordinated smear campaign designed to keep Zena shackled made Danger’s blood boil. The corruption of the executives who had broken her spirit and then labeled her the problem was too much to stomach.
In a single motion, Danger spun around, brought his fist down hard across his desk, and launched the phone off the surface. The device flew across the room, slamming into the concrete wall with a smash, shattering into a dozen pieces on impact.
Yasmin jumped out of her chair.
Danger turned his back on her, resting his forehead against his palms. His chest heaved as he tried to regain his composure.
He felt a suffocating wave of helplessness. The industry had deliberately destroyed her name. The refusal to even negotiate proved this wasn't for financial reasons.
It wasn't as if Princess Z were some multi-platinum, cash-generating asset that Royal Reign couldn't afford to lose; her EP hadn't even sold 20,000 units nationwide. They were making pennies off her silence.
Royal Reign didn't want her money. They were determined to keep her tucked away. Out of sight. Out of mind.
She wasn’t writing. She wasn’t recording.
They had terminated her active contract years earlier, stripped her of her earnings, forced her to repay every advance tenfold, and left her to drown.
She was simply existing, treading water in an ocean of corporate sharks, unaware that Danger was trying to bring her a lifeboat.
For two solid hours, Danger remained locked in his office, instructing Yasmin to clear his entire afternoon schedule.
His eyes felt as if they were bleeding from reviewing the fine print of her old contract again and again, desperately hunting for a single loophole, a hidden clause, any shred of legal leverage to break the chokehold.
A knock rattled the door. Yasmin slipped into the room, holding a brown paper bag from a local spot down the street. She walked over, carefully navigating around the broken pieces of his phone.
“I know you’re out of it right now, D,” Yasmin said gently, setting the bag on the edge of the cluttered desk. “But you need to eat something.”
“Thanks. Just leave it,” Danger muttered, his eyes never leaving the legal briefs spread across the workspace.
Yasmin obeyed, turning back toward the exit. But as her hand touched the doorknob, she paused. She looked back at him.
“You know… at first, I didn’t get it,” Yasmin admitted quietly.
“I didn’t understand why you were so hung up on this one specific girl.
But then I went down to the archives and listened to the raw reference track she recorded for us.
Danger… I felt it right here.” She pressed her palm flat against her chest. “I know it sounds corny, but she has a gift. She isn’t just singing.
She translates emotion straight through the track like a… a—”
“Like a vessel.” Danger finished the thought, looking up from the papers.
“Exactly. A vessel.” Yasmin nodded, stepping back into the room.
“That girl has survived some dark things, D. You can hear the scars in her tone, yet she still walks into this building with a smile. I’ve seen thousands of hungry artists walk through these doors, and not one has half the raw, generational talent Zena possesses.
If you want my advice, you’re on the right track.
You were put into her life for a reason, and you need to keep fighting for her.
I’ve watched you sacrifice your own bag for years to ensure everyone at this table eats.
You’re going to pull through this, even if you have to bypass Royal Reign entirely, change her stage name, and have her start fresh. ”
The words hit Danger like a lightning bolt. The fog in his mind cleared, and the legal gears locked into place.
“That’s it,” Danger whispered, a slow grin spreading across his face. “You’re a fucking genius, Yasmin.”
Yasmin cracked a wide, relieved smile. “I know I am, but break it down for me. How does that help us?”
Danger slammed his palm flat against the desk, a triumphant laugh escaping his throat.
“I’ve been staring at this contract all morning, trying to find a loophole to resurrect a dead brand.
Her contract with them is terminated, and legally so is the trademark for 'Princess Z.' She doesn’t need us to buy back her old identity from them. She needs to shed that dead weight. She doesn’t need a buyout.
She needs a clean slate. I’m going to have Trent verify the corporate details, but it looks like Dangerous Records is about to sign a brand-new artist.”