The next two days passed in a whirlwind of activity for Brandon. He split his time between Regalia Couture and the BMG studio, throwing himself into his work with fervor.
At Regalia, Brandon collaborated closely with Elise and her team on his jewelry. He couldn't resist ordering a high-carat tennis chain and matching bracelet for himself, already envisioning how they'd complement his stage outfits.
But the bulk of Brandon's time was spent holed up in the state-of-the-art recording studio at BMG. He attacked the mic with a vengeance, laying down track after track. Some songs were designed for the upcoming NOA Opening Gala Competition, while others were set aside for future projects.
But while Brandon was riding a wave of creative success, elsewhere, forces were conspiring against him. Unbeknownst to him, a much darker conversation was unfolding across town in an exclusive private club.
The opulent room was thick with tension as Jong-kook, Darrel Morgan, and Catherine Vanderbilt gathered around a polished mahogany table.
Jong-kook's face darkened as he tossed the iPad onto the table, his knuckles whitening. His voice, low and sharp, vibrated with tightly-coiled anger.
"Look at this shit," he growled, the menace in his tone more chilling than any outburst.
The iPad's screen displayed a series of headlines, each more damaging than the last:
[ BLACKSTONE MUSIC GROUP CLEANS HOUSE: CEO Brandon Blackstone Exposes Corruption ]
[ BMG DROPS ALL ARTISTS: A Bold Move Towards Revolutionizing the Music Industry ]
[ RISING STAR '13' REVEALED AS BRANDON BLACKSTONE: BMG's New CEO Shocks Industry ]
[ Can BMG Rise From The Ashes?: Commitment to Talent over Looks ]
[ BRANDON BLACKSTONE PLEDGES $30 MILLION TO REVITALIZE BMG ]
Catherine leaned forward, her clear hazel eyes scanning the headlines. Darrel, on the other hand, seemed more interested in the contents of his whiskey glass than the news before him.
"This little bastard, how dare he play me,"
Jong-kook fumed, pacing the room like a caged animal.
"Acting as an up-and-coming artist when he's a BLACKSTONE?! And after what he did to me... I WILL CRUSH HIM!"
He trailed off, touching his swollen jaw gingerly.
Catherine's gaze was icy as she watched Jong-kook unravel with thinly veiled boredom.
But her silence wasn't indifference; it was calculation. Every word from his mouth only served to confirm her suspicions—Jong-kook was far too emotional to be of real use.
"If we're quite done with personal vendettas," she said, her voice crisp and cold, "perhaps we should focus on the matter at hand. This year's NOA opening gala competition involves several key players: Blackstone Music Group, Windsor, Vanderbilt, Morgan Records, Sinclair Music, and..."
She paused, a hint of surprise coloring her tone. "CypherSounds?"
Jong-kook scoffed, waving his hand dismissively.
"CypherSounds? Hmph! That's nothing but Devon's pathetic attempt at becoming a rapper. It's hardly worth mentioning."
Darrel, who had been slouched in his chair, suddenly perked up. He leaned forward, rubbing his nose vigorously.
"Devon? As in Devon Sinclair? Your half-brother?"
The question ignited something in Jong-kook.
His face contorted with fury, the bruises on his jaw standing out starkly against his reddening skin.
"That black kid is but a stray dog!" he spat, slamming his fist on the table.
"He's no brother of mine!"
Catherine's eyebrow arched, a cold smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
"Interesting," she mused, her voice dripping with feigned innocence.
A cruel smile played at the corners of her mouth as she savored the moment.
"It seems adoption was enough for him to bear the Sinclair name. Unlike some, wouldn't you agree, Jong-kook?"
The barb hit its mark with devastating precision.
Jong-kook's eyes widened, a volatile mix of rage and humiliation flashing across his face. His hands clenched into tight fists, knuckles turning white as he struggled to maintain his composure.
"How dare you-" he began, his voice trembling with barely contained fury.
The words caught in his throat, choking him with their intensity.
"He does have the Sinclair name though, unlike you," Catherine continued, her voice as sharp as a blade. Her eyes glittered with malicious delight as she twisted the knife deeper.
"Funny how that works, isn't it? Blood isn't always thicker than water, it seems."
Jong-kook's face contorted with unbridled rage, his eyes bulging as he lost all semblance of composure.
In a shrill, high-pitched voice that cracked with emotion, he screamed,
"Devon is nothing but a mutt! A stray dog picked up off the street! I have Sinclair blood running through my veins!"
Spittle flew from his lips as he continued his tirade, his face turning an alarming shade of purple.
Catherine leaned back in her chair, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. She watched Jong-kook's meltdown with a mixture of amusement and disdain, her hazel eyes glittering with malicious delight.
As Jong-kook's screams subsided into ragged breaths, Catherine let out a soft, mocking snicker.
"Whatever delusions you have of who you are, Jong-kook," she said, her voice dripping with condescension,
"Brandon's a real Blackstone. And to be honest, he's an excellent performer."
She paused, savoring the moment as Jong-kook's face twisted in fury.
"He's already started blowing up, you know. His talent is undeniable, unlike some people in this room."
Jong-kook's face twisted into a sneer, his bruised jaw tightening as he fought to regain his composure. He let out a derisive laugh, waving his hand dismissively.
"A viral moment? Please," he scoffed, his voice dripping with contempt.
"That's all it is - a fleeting fad that will pass faster than last season's fashion trends."
He paced the room, his expensive shoes clicking against the polished floor.
"So what if he's a Blackstone? They have almost zero influence in the media space. This," he gestured grandly around him, "this is my world. The Sinclair Media Group dominates this industry."
Jong-kook's eyes gleamed with a mixture of arrogance and determination.
"I will shut him and his pathetic little BMG down before they even have a chance to make a dent in our market share."
As Jong-kook ranted, Catherine watched him with a bemused expression.
Her hazel eyes sparkled with silent mockery, a slight smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs elegantly as she observed Jong-kook's delusional tirade.
Without saying a word, Catherine's body language spoke volumes.
Her raised eyebrow and the slight shake of her head conveyed her utter disbelief at Jong-kook's inflated sense of importance. She exchanged a knowing glance with Darrel, who seemed equally unimpressed by Jong-kook's bluster.
Jong-kook, oblivious to the silent ridicule, continued his diatribe.
"Brandon Blackstone thinks he can waltz into my territory and make a name for himself? He'll soon learn that in this industry, talent means nothing without the right connections and influence."