Investing In Overlooked Women: I Get Cashback On Every Glow-Up

The twin-turbo engine hummed loudly as I sped down the empty highway, the neon city lights blurring past my windows. I tapped the console display, dialing Ruby and putting the call straight on speaker.

”Ethan!” Ruby’s voice burst through the car’s sound system, completely breathless and overflowing with sheer, electric excitement. The background noise behind her was a loud, vibrant roar of bass and cheering crowds. ”It’s absolute chaos! The stream numbers are exploding!”

”I saw the metrics,” I said, a slow smirk spreading across my face as I steered with one hand. ”How’s the listening party going?”

”You were completely right to push for it!” she laughed, her tone filled with pure, unfiltered thrill. ”When management wanted to cancel the whole event because of Quin’s surprise drop, I almost backed down. But after you insisted, we pulled a full surprise opening. We dropped the location online thirty minutes ago, and people are literally flooding the doors!”

”Who showed up?”

”Everyone,” she said, her voice dropping into that familiar, confident purr. ”Producers, top playlist curators, half the indie scene, and even major heads from rival labels who wanted to see if the raw drop was legit. Quin tried to starve our press, but the entire industry is in this room right now.”

I pressed down on the accelerator, feeling the supercar surge forward as the gates to my route cleared ahead.

”Hold down the room,” I said, my baritone steady and dominant over the phone. ”I’m on my way back now. We’ll celebrate this win together.”

”Hurry back,” she whispered playfully over the bass. ”I’m holding the top shelf champagne just for you.”

I pulled into the estate, stepping out into the vibrant, pulsing energy of the impromptu listening party. Ruby was right in the middle of it all—surrounded by glowing lights, heavy bass, and a room packed with influential industry heads, producers, and curators. She was effortlessly hosting, radiating the magnetic charm of a true superstar.

The moment she spotted me walking through the entrance, her eyes lit up. Excusing herself from a group of top playlist directors without missing a beat, she glided directly over to me.

”Look who finally made an appearance,” she murmured, a flush of high-adrenaline excitement on her face as she handed me a glass of top-shelf champagne. ”The entire room is losing their minds over the raw mix. Quin’s stream numbers are already stalling out.”

”I told you they couldn’t touch what we built,” I replied, clinking my glass against hers as a cool, triumphant smirk touched my lips. ”This night belongs to you.”

Before she could answer, the heavy double doors at the main entrance slammed open, causing a sharp drop in the room’s murmur. The crowd turned, whispers instantly rippling through the venue.

A woman stepped into the light, wearing a fur coat slung over her shoulders and an expression of pure, arrogant condescension. It was Fastine—one of the absolute biggest mainstream pop powerhouses in the country, and currently the prized cash cow signed directly under Quin Media.

She looked around the high-end party with a sharp, judgmental glare, her presence practically radiating trouble.

Ruby’s grip on her champagne glass tightened, her playful mood instantly shifting into a cool, guarded focus. ”Fastine,” she whispered beside me, her jaw setting. ”Quin sent their biggest dog to inspect the damage.”

Fastine strutted across the floor, her heels clicking sharply against the polished marble. The crowd parted around her, whispers rising as she zeroed in on us.

”Ruby, darling!” Fastine squeaked out, flashing a blinding, camera-ready smile that felt entirely fake. She leaned in and wrapped Ruby in a tight, dramatic hug before pulling back to eye her up and down. ”Congratulations! The raw drop was... so bold. Honestly, taking a little amateur-style risk like that right when Quin drops a masterpiece? Adorable.”

She turned her sharp, calculating gaze toward me, extending a manicured hand with a sleek, polished handshake.

”And you must be the mysterious investor everyone in the city is whispering about,” Fastine purred, her passive-aggressive edge cutting right through the charm. ”Ethan, right? Bold move throwing so much cash into a debut artist. Most people like to see if a girl can handle real pressure before sinking millions into her, but hey... deep pockets make for fun hobbies.”

Ruby’s jaw clenched, but she kept her composure, leaning subtly into my side.

”Anyway,” Fastine continued smoothly, tossing her hair over her shoulder as if she owned the room. ”I actually dropped by to extend an olive branch. I listened to your lead track, Ruby. It’s cute. In fact, I want you as a featured artist on my next studio album with Quin.”

The room collectively gasped. A feature with Fastine was a golden ticket for most newcomers—a shortcut to global radio rotation.

I didn’t smile. I didn’t nod.

My eyes narrowed as I took a slow sip of champagne, reading right through her performance. Fastine wasn’t here to offer a gesture of goodwill; she was running a stunt. Quin had pulled dirty moves like this before. Locking Ruby into a featured contract on Fastine’s project would force her into Quin’s legal ecosystem, dilute her independent momentum, and make her look like Fastine’s sidekick right when she was poised to eclipse her.

It was a total trap.

”A feature, huh?” I said, my baritone voice dropping into a dangerous, icy drawl that immediately cut off Fastine’s fake enthusiasm. ”That’s a very generous offer, Fastine... assuming we need Quin’s platform to get Ruby to the top.”

”What do you truly want, Fastine?” Ruby asked, her voice dropping into a razor-sharp, guarded tone as she stepped forward.

Fastine’s fake smile faded just a fraction, a glint of predatory calculation taking its place. She leaned in close to Ruby, her heavy perfume filling the space between them as she whispered just loud enough for me to catch every word.

”I’m giving you a way to redeem your career before Quin completely buries you,” Fastine purred softly, her eyes glinting. ”Join my album. I’ll open access to our global distribution networks, top-tier producers, and prime radio slots. You get to keep playing artist, and Quin gets a piece of your momentum. Everyone wins.”

It was a classic corporate trap dressed up as a rescue line. Ruby didn’t hesitate for a single second.

”No,” Ruby said, her voice quiet, absolute, and unyielding as she locked eyes with the pop star. ”I don’t need Quin’s table, and I definitely don’t need your table. We build our own.”

Fastine didn’t even blink. The rejection didn’t disarm her in the slightest; she simply shrugged with a slow, bored indifference, as if she had expected nothing less.

”Suit yourself, darling,” Fastine drawled, picking up a flute of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray. She took a single, slow sip, set the glass back down on the edge of a table, and offered us a final, chilling smile. ”Enjoy the debut night. Wish you both the very best.”

She turned on her high heels and strutted toward the double doors.

As the doors swung open, a barrage of blinding camera flashes flooded the entrance.

Fastine paused right on the threshold, posing effortlessly for the waiting paparazzi, bathing in the light before casting one final, lingering look back into the venue directly at us.