He Won an Award With My Song then Cast Me Aside

The morning light filtering through Cole's guest bedroom windows felt different—sharper, more purposeful. I'd slept better than I had in months, despite everything. Maybe it was the Egyptian cotton sheets, or maybe it was the knowledge that for the first time in ten years, someone was fighting for me instead of against me.

My phone buzzed with a text from Cole: *The papers were served at 6 AM. Enjoy your coffee. The show begins now.*

I padded to the kitchen of his penthouse, still wearing the silk pajamas his assistant had provided last night. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, Silver City sprawled below like a kingdom waiting to be claimed. The coffee was already brewing—apparently Cole's staff anticipated everything.

Then my phone exploded.

Notification after notification flooded my screen. Missed calls from numbers I didn't recognize. Text messages from old friends I hadn't spoken to in years. But it was the news alert that made me smile:

*BREAKING: Midnight Howl's Catalog Vanishes from Streaming Platforms Amid Copyright Dispute*

I opened the article, my heart racing with something that felt dangerously close to joy. Spotify, Apple Music, Amazon—every major platform had removed eighty percent of the band's songs overnight. The ones that remained were their earliest tracks, back when Jax actually tried to write his own material. Back when he was still mediocre.

The doorbell chimed, and I heard Cole's voice in the foyer, followed by the rustle of papers. He appeared in the kitchen moments later, looking immaculate despite the early hour, carrying a stack of documents that smelled like victory.

"Good morning, Ms. Tate," he said, setting the papers on the marble counter. "I thought you might enjoy seeing the formal response to your... resignation letter."

I picked up the top document, and my breath caught. The letterhead alone was intimidating—Voss, Blackwood & Associates, with an address that screamed old money and older power. But it was the content that made my pulse quicken:

*CEASE AND DESIST - COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT*

*DEMAND FOR DAMAGES: $50,000,000*

"Fifty million?" I whispered.

"Conservative estimate," Cole replied, pouring himself coffee with the casual air of someone discussing the weather. "That's just for the provable damages. Lost royalties, licensing fees, merchandising rights. The actual number could be considerably higher."

I kept reading, each legal phrase hitting like a physical blow. *Immediate removal of all infringing content... Full accounting of profits derived from stolen intellectual property... Punitive damages for willful and malicious copyright violation...*

"This is really happening," I said, more to myself than to him.

"Indeed it is." Cole's smile was sharp as a blade. "By now, every streaming executive in the country has received similar notices. They're not taking chances—not with Silver City's legal team involved."

As if summoned by his words, my phone rang. Jax's name flashed on the screen, and for a moment, my finger hovered over the decline button. But curiosity won.

"Avery!" His voice was strained, desperate. "What the hell did you do?"

"Good morning to you too, Jax." I put the call on speaker, and Cole raised an eyebrow in approval.

"Don't play games with me! The songs are gone—all of them! Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"I've reclaimed what was always mine." My voice was steady, controlled. "Did you really think you could steal ten years of my work and I'd just disappear quietly?"

"Steal?" He laughed, but it sounded hollow. "Avery, we were partners! Everything we built, we built together!"

"Partners don't hand their mate's achievements to their mistress on national television."

Silence. Then: "Sienna isn't my—look, that was just for show. You know how the industry works."

"I know exactly how it works. That's why I documented everything." I glanced at Cole, who nodded encouragingly. "Every email where you acknowledged my contributions. Every studio session I paid for. Every copyright registration filed in my name."

"You can't do this to me, Avery. To us. The pack is depending on this income—"

"The pack?" I laughed, and it felt good. "Since when do you care about anyone but yourself?"

The line went dead.

Cole was watching me with something like pride. "Well done. Though I suspect that was just the opening salvo."

He was right. Within an hour, my phone was buzzing with calls from entertainment reporters, music bloggers, and gossip columnists. Cole's staff fielded most of them, but the story was already spreading like wildfire across social media.

*#MidnightHowlScandal*

*#CopyrightGate*

*#WhoWroteWhatNow*

But it was the call from Marcus Arnold that I'd been expecting. Jax's father, the current Alpha of Crimson Shadow, had always been coldly practical. If anyone could fix this mess, it would be him.

Except, according to Cole's sources, the meeting wasn't going well.

"Your boy is in his father's office right now," Cole said, checking his phone. "My contact says Marcus looks ready to commit patricide."

"He won't help Jax?"

"He can't." Cole's smile was predatory. "Crimson Shadow's influence ends at their territory. This is a federal copyright case now, with international implications. Even if Marcus wanted to intervene—which he doesn't—he lacks the resources to fight Silver City's legal machine."

The satisfaction that coursed through me was intoxicating. For ten years, I'd watched Jax coast on his father's power, using pack influence to smooth over every mistake, every failure. Not this time.

Then Sienna made her move.

It started with a Instagram Live session that went viral within minutes. She appeared on screen with perfectly tousled hair and tear-stained cheeks, wearing an oversized sweater that made her look young and vulnerable.

"I never wanted any of this," she sobbed to her hundreds of thousands of followers. "Avery was like a sister to me. I looked up to her so much. But when Jax and I started getting close as friends—just friends—she became so jealous, so angry..."

I watched the comments flood in, a mix of support and skepticism. But Sienna wasn't done.

"She's trying to destroy everything we've worked for because she can't handle that Jax and I have a creative connection. I never claimed to write those songs! I was just trying to support my bandmate during interviews. But now she's using lawyers to hurt innocent people..."

The narrative was clever, I had to admit. Paint me as the bitter ex-girlfriend, herself as the innocent victim caught in the crossfire. It was exactly the kind of manipulation she'd perfected over the years.

But she'd made one crucial mistake.

Within hours, she was appearing on every podcast and talk show that would have her, spinning the same story with increasing desperation. Each appearance was more dramatic than the last, her tears more abundant, her victimhood more pronounced.

"She's overplaying her hand," Cole observed, watching Sienna's third interview of the day. "Desperation makes people sloppy."

He was right. With each public appearance, Sienna revealed more of her true nature. The sweet, innocent mask was slipping, replaced by something calculating and vicious. The public was starting to notice.

My phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number: *We believe you. Keep fighting. —A fan*

Then another: *Sienna's story doesn't add up. Where's the proof?*

And another: *Team Avery all the way.*

The tide was beginning to turn. But this was just the beginning. Jax and Sienna had drawn first blood with their betrayal, but I had Cole Voss and the full might of Silver City behind me now.

Let them keep talking. Every word they spoke was another nail in their own coffins.

I looked out at the city below, my city now, and smiled. The real war was just beginning.