3. A Different Woman

***

"You're awake?" Anastasia asked.

Maximilian froze, staring at the unfamiliar woman before him. Her smile was unlike anything he'd ever seen - soothing, almost serene.

"Can you hear me?" A small voice came from beside him.

He turned his head to see the woman standing nearby, relief washing over her face as she realised he was awake. She stepped closer, and before Maximilian could say a word, he felt her gentle hand press against his forehead, taking his temperature. The touch startled him. His body tensed, but not with pain.

Before he could process what was happening, she withdrew her hand and placed the back of it against his cheek. "You look a little pale. Is anything hurting?" she asked, her tone soft but full of concern.

Maximilian was stunned. His instinct should have been to pull away or push her hand away, but there was no allergic reaction or discomfort like he usually felt when women touched him. His skin didn't feel hot or itchy. It was as if her touch was completely harmless. He didn't even feel annoyed, despite the unwarranted contact.

"What is...?" Maximilian murmured, trying to make sense of the situation. Why didn't he react? He stared at her, his eyes filled with confusion.

The woman frowned slightly and raised her hand again, as if to check his forehead again. This time, before her hand could reach him, Maximilian reflexively grabbed her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. The touch made him gasp for breath for a moment.

"I'm fine," Maximilian said quickly, his voice firmer than he'd intended. "Did you help me? Who are you?"

The woman nodded slightly, her expression remaining friendly, though there was a flicker of surprise in her eyes. "My name is Anastasia Noire. I found you badly injured and brought you to my home. You need to rest."

Maximilian released her wrist, allowing her to pull back. There was something strange about this, he thought. He had always had problems with physical contact from women. A mysterious, medically inexplicable allergy made direct touch unbearable. But with Anastasia there was no reaction. Her touch had no adverse effect on his body - just a faint, unfamiliar warmth.

"What happened to me?" he murmured, more to himself than to her. His eyes remained fixed on her, searching her expression for answers.

Anastasia hesitated for a moment before answering. "I don't know exactly. You were lying near my car, injured. How is your body? Are you still in pain? You were badly bruised and those thugs chased my car until they damaged it."

Maximilian frowned, still trying to piece things together. "And you managed to get away from them?"

Anastasia chuckled slightly. "Yes. They couldn't keep up with me. Impressive, isn't it?" she said confidently.

Maximilian studied her intently, searching for truth in her gaze. There was no sign of deception, only genuine concern. He exhaled deeply, trying to calm his chaotic thoughts. Maybe this was just a coincidence. Maybe his body had become accustomed to the pain and wasn't reacting as it usually did.

But deep down, Maximilian knew that this was more than a coincidence. There was something different about Anastasia. This woman, with her unassuming manner and caring nature, had somehow breached the walls he had so carefully guarded. It frightened him - yet intrigued him.

"I don't remember much from last night," Maximilian said, pretending to distract himself from his troubling thoughts.

"But your body must be strong to withstand such injuries," Anastasia replied. "Should I call a doctor? Or contact your family?"

Maximilian shook his head. "Can I borrow your phone?"

“Oh, of course!” Anastasia replied, getting up to fetch a phone from her room. She returned shortly and handed it to him. “Here, use this. It’s an extra phone of mine, but the number is still active. By the way, I’m going to have to leave soon for some work. Just stay here and rest, okay? I won’t be gone long.”

Maximilian nodded impassively. He rose from his chair and found a quiet corner to call Bryan, his assistant.

***

Anastasia sat in the waiting room of the recording studio, swinging her legs nervously. Her normally steady hands clutched a small bag tightly in her lap. Anxiety and frustration swirled inside her. She had been waiting for over half an hour to meet Rafael Draven, the producer who had once championed her and catapulted her music career to stardom. But this time Rafael’s tone on the phone had been anything but enthusiastic.

The studio door finally opened and an assistant stepped inside. “Mr Draven is ready for you, Miss Noire.”

Anastasia nodded curtly and stood up. Her heart pounded as she entered the familiar room, although the atmosphere was very different.

Rafael stood near a large table laden with recording equipment, his arms crossed. His usually warm face was now serious, almost cold.

“Anastasia, sit down,” he said without smiling, gesturing to the chair opposite him.

She obeyed, sitting up straight and fixing him with a questioning look. “What’s going on, Rafael? Why did you call me here? Aren’t we in the middle of recording my second album? I was so excited – every song on this album is my creation.”

Rafael took a deep breath as if searching for the right words. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Anastasia.”

Her heartbeat quickened. “What do you mean?”

He met her eyes, his gaze sharp and penetrating. “I have decided not to proceed with the second album. I’m also terminating your contract with the label.”

The words hit Anastasia like a sledgehammer. She froze. "What?" she said, her voice shaking. "You... you're cancelling the album? And terminate my contract? Why? Did I do something wrong? You said my contract was for life!"

Rafael didn't answer immediately. He walked to the large window and looked out with a tense expression on his face. "It's not about you doing something wrong," he finally said, his tone low. "It's about the future. The industry is evolving rapidly and I have to make decisions that benefit the label and my career."

Anastasia furrowed her brow, her confusion and anger growing. "What are you talking about? I'm the biggest selling artist on this label! My last album sold millions. You always told me I had immense potential, that I was the future of this industry!"

Rafael turned to her, his expression unreadable. "That was then. Now I have a new artist - someone I'm confident will outshine you."

Anger bubbled inside Anastasia. She stood abruptly, her gaze fiery. "A new artist? Who is this person you think can replace me?"

The door opened at that moment. Anastasia spun around and what she saw made her blood run cold.

Elora Viviana entered, her arm linked to Leon Hale's. She wore a triumphant smile, her wavy hair cascading around her like a halo. Her eyes sparkled with arrogance as she met Anastasia's.

"I am the artist," Elora said sweetly, her voice dripping with false charm. "I'm the one taking your place, Anastasia."

Anastasia felt her world crumble. "Elora...?" she stammered. "Leon? What are you doing here?"

Leon smiled, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. "Welcome to reality, darling. Only the strongest survive in this world. Elora has everything it takes to be a star, and I'm here to make sure she gets everything she wants."

Anger and heartbreak collided within Anastasia. "How could you do this to me? I trusted you, Leon!"

Elora laughed softly, her voice mocking. "Oh, Anastasia, you are so naive. The world doesn't revolve around you. You were just a stepping stone for Leon's rise to power in this industry."

Rafael stood silently, watching the confrontation with an impassive face. Anastasia turned to him, hoping for an ounce of sympathy from the man who had once believed in her. But his expression remained cold, as if he had made up his mind long ago.

"I never thought you'd be so cruel, Rafael," Anastasia said, her voice trembling with suppressed anger. "I thought we were a team."

Rafael shrugged. "This isn't about cruelty, Anastasia. It's about business."

Anastasia gave him a withering look before turning back to Elora and Leon. "You won't last long playing dirty like this," she said, her voice firm and determined. "Karma has a way of catching up with you. And when it does, I'll be there to see you fall."

Elora's smile didn't falter. "We are not afraid of karma, Anastasia. We have everything we need to win. And you? You're yesterday's news."

Her heart shattered, Anastasia raised her chin, refusing to show weakness. "Take what you want now, but remember this: I'll be back. And when I do, you'll regret ever underestimating me."

She walked out with grace, her spirit bruised but unbroken. "I'll make you pay."

***