Rise of the Zillionaire Star

Chapter 51: The Velvet Trap

The first wave hit like wildfire.

Jaylen hadn’t even opened his laptop when his phone exploded with notifications. Mentions from different people, tags, reposts with millions of eyes were suddenly on him. He frowned as he scrolled through the disturbing notification until one message appeared at the top, pinned by the trending algorithms.

“The industry needs more truth-tellers like Jaylen Cruz. He inspires me.” Delilah Knox suddenly dropped a quote.

She is the R&B queen. The velvet-voiced darling of the Grammys. She was the woman who could shift fashion trends with a single red-carpet glance. And now, apparently, Jaylen's biggest fan.

“Bro,” Zee gasped from the couch, tossing her tablet at him. “You are trending everywhere. T*****r, Z-Circle, even ValeStream fan forums are buzzing. Delilah Knox just knighted you when she was speaking.”

Jaylen didn’t smile. The moment her name hit his screen, his chest tightened. And then the system spoke.

“System Warning: Hidden Sub-Quest Unlocked

Don’t Drink the Fame

Objective: Resist manipulation by false allies.

Penalty for Failure: –10 Talent, –5 Credibility.”

Jaylen exhaled sharply. “Of course. Nothing in this industry is free.”

Zee’s eyes widened. “Wait, you’re telling me the queen herself is shady?”

“Not shady,” Jaylen corrected. His jaw hardened. “She is strategic. She builds stars by wrapping them in her glow… then eats them alive when their shine outpaces hers.”

As if on cue, his phone buzzed again and this time with a formal invitation.

“Delilah Knox invites you to her private showcase tonight. Dress code: Velvet and Gold.”

TBy evening, Jaylen walked into a different world.

The showcase was no small event. It was a manufactured spectacle. Velvet curtains waved under champagne-colored lights. Fog machines hissed low across the marble floor which created a dreamlike haze. Industry executives, influencers, and journalists milled around with flutes of gold-tinted champagne.

“Jaylen Cruz has arrived,” an announcer boomed. Different phones flew up and cameras flashing like strobe lights.

And then she appeared. Delilah Knox walked down a spiral staircase like royalty. She was covered in a glittering gown of sequins that caught every ounce of light. Diamonds glittered in her hair, and her smile was crafted to melt defenses.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she spoke into the mic, “let’s welcome the only truth the industry’s been hiding from us… Jaylen Cruz.”

The room erupted with cheers. Delilah walked directly toward him, brushing past executives and photographers until she stood inches away. Her perfume was dizzying. She leaned in. Her voice is a velvet whisper disguised as intimacy.

“You look good under my spotlight, Jaylen. You could be bigger than Vale but only if you know how to play with the stars.”

He tilted his head, catching the flash in her eyes. The calculated hunger behind the charm. He had studied enough snakes to know when one was coiling.

The night moved in layers. Delilah guided him through the crowds. Each introduction laced with subtle digs and layered compliments.

“You know, darling,” she told a cluster of reporters, “Jaylen has something raw. Something no machine could manufacture. It’s why I admire him. He reminds me of myself.”

Her words seemed empowering, but the undertone was clear, ‘He is my discovery, my project.’ The crowd bought it, cheering and posting with different hashtagging.

Later, in a roped-off lounge, she made her final move. A silver tray arrived with champagne glasses on it under the soft glow of chandelier light. Delilah picked up two flutes and offered one directly to him.

“To us,” she said in an intoxicating smile. “To truth, to rebellion and to partnership.”

The system buzzed within him. “System Alert:

Trap Detected. Seduction Protocol: Emotional Exploit.”

Jaylen stared at the glass. Her bodyguards leaned in around him. Her eyes were expectant with her phones ready. This was her ritual. She always toasts her “chosen” publicly, making them hers. To refuse would be to embarrass her.

Jaylen took the glass. The crowd’s anticipation tightened as they watched in tension. Delilah raised hers high.

But Jaylen never drank. Instead, he swirled the champagne, raised it, and with a sharp grin said,

“To freedom. Because cages look expensive… but they’re still cages.”

Then he set the untouched glass back down.

The words landed heavy. Her bodyguards exchanged confused glances. Whispers went through the room. Some smirked and some nodded in respect for his composure gleaming in their eyes. Delilah’s lips twitched with a smile stiffening.

“You have a sharp tongue, darling,” she murmured through gritted teeth.

“I use it to cut chains,” Jaylen replied smoothly. “Not to flatter gatekeepers.”

Phone recorders caught every word. Within seconds, posts erupted,

“Jaylen Cruz refuses Delilah’s champagne toast… savage.”

“Man’s not folding to anybody.”

The showcase ended immediately the music faded. Guests walked into the night with different stories, photos, and new hashtags. But backstage, the velvet sheen peeled away.

Delilah cornered Jaylen near a curtain, her eyes glinting like daggers under the dim stage lights. There were no cameras now and no audience. Just the hate.

“You’ll regret this,” she hissed. Her hand gripped his wrist with surprising strength. “Every man in this industry bends to me. And when they don’t, I break them. You will bend, Jaylen.”

Jaylen’s lips curved into a calm and confident smirk. He leaned just close enough to let his words strike like steel.

“I don’t bend. I break cages. And I just cracked yours.”

He pulled his wrist free and walked away. The sound of his footsteps echoed in the empty stage hall. Delilah stood frozen with anger twisting her flawless mask.

Jaylen returned to his apartment well past midnight. Zee sat cross-legged with her laptop open. Her eyes were wide as streams of data raced across the screen.

“You just detonated social media,” she said breathlessly. “Half the world thinks you are the boldest man alive while the other half thinks you’ve committed career suicide by snubbing Delilah Knox. Either way, you are everywhere.”

Before Jaylen could respond, the system flared red across his interface.

“System Alert: Incoming Data Breach Detected.

Source: Multiple Gossip Platforms

Content Queued for Release: Video Footage - Jaylen Cross & Delilah Knox: Private Intimacy Exposed”

Jaylen froze. His stomach sank. The thumbnails loaded on Zee’s screen.

It was deepfaked and manipulated. But to the public? It would look damning.

Zee’s voice dropped. “She’s launching Phase Two of the Velvet Trap.”

Jaylen’s eyes hardened, clenching his fists. “Then tomorrow,” he said coldly, “we will tear the velvet to shreds.”