Rise of the Zillionaire Star

Chapter 53: Breaking the Velvet Rope

The Zenith Gala was not just an event. It was the beating heart of the industry.

Expensive crystal chandeliers illuminated the whole room like stars overhead, while cameras flashed in bursts of white like fire along the luxurious velvet carpet. Moguls, politicians, movie stars, and music royalty walked across the entrance like gods.

And Jaylen Cross stood outside the event centre.

His hoodie didn’t match the designer cloth he put on with his perfectly tailored suit jacket. His sneakers didn’t belong on the marble steps that led into the Zenith cycle. Yet, in the glow of his wrist display, a sigil beeped brightly, System Pass Acquired.

Zee pinged in, “Questline Branch Unlocked: Break the Industry’s Crown.

Objective: Penetrate Zenith Gala.

Penalty for failure: -10 Fame, -3 Influence.”

Jaylen exhaled, tightening his fists. Tonight wasn’t just another performance. It was the lion’s den.

The crowd outside erupted as a sleek black limousine pulled up. Roman Vale stepped out of it first. He wore a tailored midnight suit with silver cufflinks glinting under the camera flashes. 

His smile was like daggers to Jaylen and he hated it. At his side was Delilah Knox, who stepped out in a red gown. Every inch of her step dripped with elegance. Her hand slid along Roman’s arm.

When Delilah’s gaze found Jaylen standing at the ropes, her lips curved into something colder than her feigned smile.

Roman smirked openly. “I didn’t know they were letting street rats into Zenith circle now.” His voice was loud enough for reporters to snicker and comment about it. 

Jaylen said nothing. Instead, he raised his wrist.

The System Pass projected above his skin like a living hologram. It kept rotating in the emblem of platinum light. Security scanners blinked, froze, and then rebooted with a confirming ping. The pass wasn’t a fake one. It overrode every restriction that was supposed to stop him.

The crowd gasped. Cameras took several snaps. Roman’s smirk faltered as Jaylen stepped off the public walkway. In elegance, he walked onto the same carpet that Vale had claimed as his personal stage.

Flashbulbs popped like fireworks. ‘The “outsider” had crossed the velvet rope.’ Roman muttered in hate. 

The Zenith cycle came around Jaylen in a rush. A thousand voices murmured along in surprise, irritation, and intrigue. He felt every eye was on him, and not all of them were friendly.

“Who let him in?” whispered a record executive as he clutched a flute of champagne.

“He doesn’t belong here,” muttered another person.

Jaylen ignored them. This was the same drama he had faced since day one. Mockery, doubt, and attempts to push him back outside the circle.

But tonight, he wasn’t here to be ridiculed. He was here to show them who he really was.

Zee’s voice pinged softly in his head.

“Warning: Expect sabotage attempts. Maintain vigilance.”

He barely made it through the first corridor before it started. A rival artist accidentally bumped his shoulder, spilling red wine across Jaylen’s hoodie. 

Two models giggled too loudly as they sneered, “I thought this event was invite-only.” A producer whispered into his comms. His eyes never leave Jaylen.

But Jaylen had seen worse in alleyway cyphers, in rigged talent shows, and in boardrooms where contracts were signed in blood. He pressed on, deeper into the glittering maze.

The gala stage was illuminated with LEDs. A live showcase was underway. Performers displayed unreleased tracks for industry elites. The bass thudded heavily, vibrating through the floor and seeping into the bones of many who dared listen. 

At first, Jaylen nodded along like everyone else. But soon, he noticed something wrong. The rhythm wasn’t just the music. It was a grip.

The audience moved unnaturally with their heads nodding in identical arcs and hands clapping in eerie synchronization. Their laughter rose and fell like it was on a timer.

Zee’s warning flashed in a deep red colour.

“System Alert: Sonic Manipulation Detected. Hidden Opponent Active.”

Jaylen clenched his jaw. This wasn't just a performance. It was like it was programmed all along.

The lights suddenly cut, leaving only a glowing strobe of ultraviolet.

 From the smoke at the center stage, a person stepped out. He was tall, covered in a black coat stitched with fiber light thread that danced to the beat. His face was hidden behind his silver lenses that reflected the entire crowd back at itself.

“Madrix Noir,” someone whispered in awe.

He was the underground DJ. The phantom who sold hits to labels by the kilo. Rumor said his beats weren’t written, they were manipulated and packed with subliminal triggers that hooked listeners. These songs were many viewers' addictions.

Madrix lifted his hands. His fingers hovered over a console of liquid light. The bassline deepened, wrapping around throats like chains.

His voice went through the speakers. “Ladies and gentlemen… and intruders. Tonight, you’ll feel what it means to obey the beat.”

He turned his head toward Jaylen while the silver lenses glinter.

“You fight with truth, kid. Cute. But the truth doesn’t sell. Addiction does. Every star you admire? Bought and built on my frequency.”

Jaylen’s stomach turned. The crowd swayed harder. They moved like puppets on invisible strings. Even his own muscles twitched in time with the beat, as if resisting took more effort than taking a single breath.

Jaylen staggered forward, gripping the edge of a table. His heart raced in unnatural rhythm with the bass. Sweat dripped down his face.

“Zee… any countermeasures?” He asked in aggression.

“Analyzing waveform… Completed.

Recommendation: Real-time exposure. Broadcast his manipulation openly.”

Jaylen’s eyes darted to the gigantic LED screens around the Dome. If he could hijack them, turn the industry’s eyes back on Madrix’s corruption… it could break the trance they were trapped in. 

Madrix chuckled. His fingers danced across his console. “Don’t fight it. You are already mine. Just another name I’ll bury under a bassline.”

Jaylen’s teeth grit. “Not tonight.”

The next drop hit like a thunderclap. The crowd snapped in unison and their voices rose in an unnatural chant. They brought out their phones and started recording, but none of them were in control.

Jaylen felt his body lurch toward the rhythm too but his knees buckled. His vision suddenly blurred as he fought hard. 

Zee’s voice cut sharp in his skull.

“System Alert: Sub-Quest Triggered. Expose Audio Tactics in Real-Time.

Failure will result in Audience Entrapment.”

Jaylen forced his head up. He glared at Madrix through the blinding strobes. The DJ stood like a god on his throne. 

The final line ripped through Jaylen’s mind as his body trembled against the sonic leash. 

“This isn’t music… it’s chains.” And then the bass dropped again. Jaylen's heart thuds.