From A Producer To A Global Superstar

Chapter 590: The Deal

By the time they left Marcus Ryane’s studio, Dayo already knew the interview had done its job.

He did not need to check his phone to know. Sharon’s face was enough.

She sat in the front passenger seat on the way back, tablet on her lap, one earbud in, one hand moving between messages, clipped videos, schedule updates, and whatever fresh madness the internet had decided to create from his answers. Every few minutes her shoulders tightened, then relaxed, then tightened again.

That was usually a bad sign.

Amanda sat beside Luna in the back, her phone face down on her thigh like she had placed a misbehaving animal there and was daring it to move. It vibrated anyway. Again and again. After the fifth buzz, Amanda picked it up, looked at the screen, and turned it face down harder.

Dayo noticed.

"Important?"

Amanda gave him a dry look. "Depends on what you describe as important. Do you consider forty-seven different people asking the same question in different email formats important?"

Luna leaned her head against the seat and closed her eyes. "Let me guess. They want to know if it is me."

"No," Amanda said. "They already know it is you. They want us to give them permission to say it without using the word ’allegedly.’"

Dayo smiled faintly. "Allegedly is a useful word."

Amanda pointed at him without lifting her head from the seat. "You are not allowed to enjoy this."

"I am not enjoying it."

"You answered a national television question with another question and watched the audience explode. That is enjoyment."

Sharon, from the front, cleared her throat carefully. "For what it is worth, the clip has already passed the official interview announcement."

Amanda looked up. "How fast?"

Sharon hesitated.

That hesitation told them enough.

Dayo leaned back, eyes on the lights sliding across the car window. The city moved past in streaks of white, red, and gold, but his mind was already somewhere else. The interview had kept the mystery alive. The numbers were still rising. The fans had more fuel. The media had more language. The song had not cooled.

Now came the part that mattered more than noise.

Luna could not return to music as a rumor.

She could not step back into the industry on the strength of a hidden vocal, a few viral clips, and people crying over waveform comparisons. That was not a comeback. That was pressure with melody attached.

If they were going to do this, they needed to build the ground properly.

A proper deal.

A proper project.

A proper room for her voice to stand in without needing to hide under his.

The next morning, JD Records was quieter than expected.

Not empty. Never empty now. The building had become the kind of place where sleep was discussed like an old friend nobody had seen in years. But the energy had changed from the open shock of the first day to something more concentrated. People still looked at Dayo strangely when he walked in, but now they were trying harder to act professional. That made it worse.

One assistant dropped a folder when he saw Luna.

Another bent down to help, saw Luna too, and dropped his own pen.

Luna stopped walking and looked at Dayo. "Are you sure this is a record label?"

"It was last week."

Amanda walked past them. "Keep moving before someone injures themselves from eye contact."

Sharon followed with her tablet tucked against her chest, already checking the meeting room assignment. "Conference Room Three is ready. Valerie is inside with legal. Ulrich is joining for the first half. Wayne is not invited to the contract meeting because Valerie said his opinions are too loud for paperwork."

Dayo nodded. "Good call."

Luna slowed slightly. "Contract meeting?"

Amanda looked back at her. "Yes. Before anybody sings, smiles, or pretends this is just about love and music, we handle business."

"I know we need to handle business," Luna said, though her voice had become more careful.

Amanda’s expression softened, but she did not let go of the firmness. "Good. Then you also know I’m not letting you walk into a studio under a label that has not put protection on paper."

Dayo said nothing.

That silence made Luna look at him.

"You knew about this?"

"I asked for it."

Her eyebrows drew together. "You asked for a contract meeting before the studio?"

"Yes."

"Why didn’t you tell me?"

"Because if I told you last night, you would spend the whole night thinking about clauses instead of sleeping."

Amanda snorted. "He is not wrong."

Luna gave them both a look. "I am standing right here."

"Yes," Amanda said. "And you are about to stand in front of lawyers, so wake up properly."

Conference Room Three did not look like a trap, which was to Valerie’s credit. There were no cameras, no press materials, no celebratory banners, no bouquet pretending business was romance. Just a long table, water, folders, pens, a screen at the front, Valerie seated with her usual calm, Ulrich near the far end, and two legal representatives who looked professional enough to be invisible.

Valerie stood when Luna entered.

"Luna," she said, not with the bright tone people used when trying to flatter artists, but with respect. "Thank you for coming in."

Luna gave a polite smile. "I’m starting to feel like I should have worn something more serious."

Ulrich looked at her hoodie, then at Dayo. "Compared to some of the outfits I’ve seen in contract rooms, this is practically diplomatic."

Amanda sat without waiting to be invited. "Before we start, let me say this clearly. Luna is not desperate. She is not being rescued. She is not signing anything because the internet screamed her name for twenty-four hours. If this deal does not respect that, we leave politely first and aggressively second."

One of the lawyers blinked.

Valerie did not. "Understood."

Dayo pulled out a chair but did not sit. "I also want one thing on record before legal begins."

Amanda glanced at him. "Here we go."

Dayo ignored her. His eyes were on Valerie, then on Luna. "This deal has to protect her even if one day she hates me."

The room changed.

Not loudly. Nothing dramatic happened. But the sentence took the air and made everyone aware of what had been sitting beneath the meeting. Dayo and Luna were not just potential collaborators. They were involved. Everyone knew that. Everyone also knew the industry had a long history of turning affection into leverage and calling it partnership.

Luna stared at him.

Amanda stopped looking ready to attack.

Dayo continued, quieter now. "I don’t want a contract that only looks fair because we are together. If we break up, if she decides she wants a different sound, if she hates every song I write next year, if she wants to leave after this project, the deal should still make sense."

Valerie studied him for a moment, then nodded once. "That is already reflected in the structure."

Amanda leaned back slightly. "Good. Because if this contract is a love letter wearing a legal suit, I’m burning it."

Ulrich rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I missed simpler meetings."

"No, you didn’t," Valerie said. "You complained through all of them too."

That pulled a small laugh from Luna, and the room loosened enough for everyone to breathe again.

Valerie opened the folder in front of her. "This is not a traditional multi-album lock-in. JD Records is offering Luna a partnership agreement built around label services, distribution, production support, marketing, and release infrastructure. The initial term covers one collaborative EP with Dayo and one optional solo project, activated only by Luna’s approval."

Luna looked down at the folder but did not touch it yet.

Valerie continued, "Creative approval remains with Luna. No music is released under her name without her written sign-off. Amanda remains her manager and primary representative. JD Records does not control her image, personal appearances, or interview commitments outside agreed promotional windows."

Amanda finally reached for the folder.

That alone said the meeting had survived its first test.

"What about masters?" she asked.

"For the collaborative EP, masters are split based on contribution and project agreement. For Luna-led solo work, Luna retains majority ownership. JD takes a service and distribution percentage, not ownership control."

Amanda flipped pages, eyes moving quickly. "Marketing budget?"

"Guaranteed floor. Additional spend triggered by performance metrics, but not in exchange for rights."

"Exit?"

"After the EP, if she does not activate the optional project, she can leave. Existing project obligations remain, but no future lock."

Luna looked at Dayo then. "You agreed to this?"

"I requested most of it."

"Why?"

Dayo sat at last, but he did not lean back. "Because if your comeback depends on me owning the road, then it is not your comeback."

The words did not sound rehearsed.

That was what made them land.

Luna looked away first, not because she wanted to reject the sentence, but because accepting it too openly in a room full of people felt unsafe. She had spent too many years in an industry where kindness came with hooks, where support arrived wrapped around control, where people helped only after calculating what part of her they could claim later.

Amanda kept reading, but her voice was less sharp when she spoke again. "Independent review?"

"Encouraged," Valerie said. "We have already attached a clause requiring outside counsel confirmation before execution if Luna wants it."

Luna looked up. "You’re telling me not to sign today?"

Valerie’s mouth moved slightly, not quite a smile. "I am telling you I would prefer you sign because you understand it, not because everyone in this room is excited."

Ulrich nodded. "Excitement is terrible at reading contracts."

Amanda closed the folder halfway. "I want outside counsel to review it."

"Of course," Dayo said.

Luna turned toward him. "You are not annoyed?"

"Why would I be?"

"Because the world is already asking. Because the EP needs to start. Because everything is moving fast."

Dayo’s answer came without hesitation. "Then the paperwork should move carefully."

That ended whatever argument Luna had been preparing in her mind.

They did not sign immediately.

That was important.

Amanda sent the contract to Luna’s independent lawyer. Valerie’s legal team stepped out for a few minutes. Ulrich left to take a call after muttering something about streaming platforms becoming needy once artists started breaking their equipment. Sharon stayed near the side wall, quietly organizing files and messages, occasionally sending Dayo updates without interrupting.

The review took hours.

Not because the contract was bad, but because Amanda was determined to make sure no one could call Luna careless later. She questioned definitions. She asked about territory. She asked about revenue timing. She asked what happened if the EP had delayed clearance, what happened if Luna wanted a solo version of a song, what happened if Dayo produced a track but did not feature vocally, what happened if public relationship changes affected promotional obligations.

At one point, Dayo stood.

Amanda looked up immediately. "Where are you going?"

"Out."

"Why?"

"So she can talk about the contract without me sitting here like a romantic conflict of interest."

Luna opened her mouth, then closed it.

Amanda watched him for a moment. Then she nodded. "That is annoyingly mature."

"I have moments."

"Do not ruin it by talking."

Dayo left with Sharon following him into the hallway.

For the next forty minutes, Luna sat with Amanda, Valerie, and her lawyer on video call. They went through the final concerns without Dayo in the room. Luna asked fewer questions than Amanda, but the ones she asked mattered more.

"Can they shelve me?" she asked.

Valerie answered directly. "No."

"Can they push me into a sound because the numbers say it will perform better?"

"No. We can advise. You decide."

"If Dayo writes a song for me and I don’t want it?"

"Then it does not get released by you."

Luna nodded slowly. "And if I want to disappear again?"

That question quieted the room.

Amanda looked at her, but did not interrupt.

Valerie’s voice softened. "Then we discuss obligations already attached to released work. But no one here can force you to become visible beyond what you agree to."

Luna sat with that for a while.

Then she said, "Bring him back."

When Dayo returned, Luna had the pen in her hand.

He looked at Amanda first. "Everything good?"

Amanda gave a small shrug, which for her was practically a blessing. "I would have written two things differently."

Valerie looked interested. "Which two?"

"I’ll email you. I’m not helping your next negotiation for free."

Ulrich, who had returned at some point, laughed under his breath. "I like her."

"You should," Amanda said. "I’m expensive."

Luna looked at the signature line. For a moment, the room disappeared around her. She was not thinking of headlines, or bridge clips, or fans demanding an EP that did not exist yet. She was thinking of the first time music had felt like home. Then the years when it became a corridor with closing doors. Then the long silence where she told herself she was resting, even when part of her feared she was hiding.

Now there was a contract in front of her that did not promise magic.

It promised room.

Sometimes that was better.

She signed.

Amanda signed as her representative. Valerie signed for JD Records. The legal counsel marked the execution copies. Sharon quietly recorded the internal file, and Ulrich leaned back in his chair as if he had just watched something small and historic happen without cameras.

Dayo did not clap.

He simply looked at Luna and said, "Welcome to JD Records."

Luna exhaled, half laugh and half disbelief. "You make it sound simple."

"It isn’t," Dayo said. "That is why we handled it before the music."

Amanda stood and gathered her folder. "Now that nobody is legally kidnapping my artist, can we discuss the song situation?"

Sharon checked her tablet. "Wayne is in Studio Two. His exact message was, ’I am awake, but do not ask me to be cheerful.’"

Dayo stood. "That is cheerful for Wayne."

Luna looked between them. "We’re starting today?"

Dayo paused. "Only if you want to."

The question was real. Not polite. Not decorative. Luna could hear the difference.

She looked down at the signed contract, then at Amanda, then back at Dayo.

"I want to hear what you have."

Dayo’s expression changed.

Not dramatically, but enough.

They moved to Studio Two without announcing it to the building. Sharon handled the internal access. Amanda warned two assistants away with one look. Valerie stayed behind to begin planning the label-side rollout, and Ulrich followed only long enough to wish Luna luck before wisely deciding that creative rooms were safer without executives hovering inside them.

Wayne was exactly where Sharon said he would be, seated in the producer’s chair with one hand around a coffee cup and the other buried in his hair. He looked up when they entered.

"I was promised rest at some point in my life."

Dayo walked past him toward the piano. "You were promised greatness."

Wayne stared at him. "Those are not synonyms."

Amanda sat on the couch. "If it helps, I’m also suffering."

"It does not," Wayne said. "But I appreciate the attempt."

Luna stood near the center of the room, suddenly aware of every object. The microphone behind the glass. The piano. The mixing board. The low light. The quiet. This room was not a stage. It would not cheer for her. It would not fill silence with applause. It would only take what she gave and reveal whether it was enough.

Dayo opened a folder on the piano.

Not a legal folder this time.

A music folder.

"There are nine," he said.

Luna blinked. "Nine what?"

"Songs."

Wayne sat up a little straighter. Amanda’s eyes narrowed.

Dayo did not look embarrassed, but he did look caught. "I wrote more than we need. Some are rougher than others. Some are just piano and melody. A few are close. I didn’t want to decide for you."

Luna approached slowly. "You already wrote them?"

"I started before Beautiful Things dropped."

Amanda looked at him. "Of course you did."

"They are not finished," Dayo said, as if defending himself against an accusation no one had made. "They are shapes. Rooms, maybe. You choose which ones feel like yours."

Luna touched the top sheet but did not pick it up immediately. "What are they about?"

Dayo sat at the piano and rested his fingers on the keys without playing. "Different answers to the same question."

"What question?"

He looked at her. "What does it sound like when Luna comes back?"

For once, nobody made a joke.

Wayne lowered his coffee.

Amanda stopped pretending she was only there as a manager.

Luna picked up the first sheet.

The title was written at the top in Dayo’s neat, almost annoyingly controlled handwriting.

After Silence.

She read the first few notes, then the short description beneath. A song about returning without apologizing for surviving. Not triumphant in the obvious way. Not sad either. Something between breath and defiance.

The next one was called Glass Room, about being watched after spending too long hiding.

Another was Borrowed Light, which Luna rejected almost immediately after reading the concept.

Dayo noticed. "No?"

"I like it," she said. "But not for me."

"Good."

"You’re not offended?"

"You picked with your face before your mouth. I trust the face."

She rolled her eyes and picked up the next sheet.

The Door You Built.

She paused.

Dayo said nothing.

Amanda saw the title and glanced toward him, but mercifully kept quiet.

Luna read the notes slowly. It was not a love song exactly, though love was inside it. It was about someone building a space where another person could stop being afraid of their own voice. The melody line was simple in the draft, almost bare, but something in the phrasing made Luna’s throat tighten before she had heard a single note.

"Play this one," she said.

Dayo turned to the piano.

Wayne moved to the board almost unwillingly, producer instinct waking through exhaustion. Sharon slipped quietly into the back of the room, tablet ready but forgotten. Amanda leaned forward.

Dayo played the opening.

The room changed.

It was not finished. Anyone could hear that. The progression still had places that needed shaping. The bridge was only marked by chords and a note Dayo had written to himself: let her climb here, don’t crowd her. But the bones were alive. The song did not demand that Luna prove she was powerful. It gave her somewhere to begin small and grow without being forced.

Luna closed her eyes.

By the second pass, she hummed under her breath.

Wayne looked at Dayo sharply.

Dayo kept playing.

Luna’s hum became clearer, not a performance yet, not even a proper take. Just her voice feeling for the walls of the room Dayo had built in melody. The first note trembled slightly. The second found ground. By the third, Wayne had put down his coffee entirely and was adjusting levels out of habit.

Amanda’s face shifted in a way she would deny if anyone mentioned it.

The song ended in an unfinished chord.

Nobody spoke.

Luna opened her eyes.

"That one," she said.

Dayo’s hands remained on the keys. "You sure?"

"No," she admitted. "But I want to be."

Wayne leaned back slowly. "That is the most useful answer we’ve had all week."

Dayo smiled, small and warm. "Then we start there."

Luna looked through the remaining titles again, more confident now. She chose After Silence next. Then Glass Room after a longer pause. A fourth song, No More Ghosts, made her laugh because she said it sounded too dramatic, but she kept it anyway because dramatic did not mean wrong. The fifth choice came from a rough page with only a melody sketch and three lines of notes.

Still Here.

She tapped it with one finger. "This one feels like the ending."

Dayo nodded. "I thought so too."

Amanda looked at the selected pages spread across the piano. "So we have five."

"Five," Luna said.

Wayne rubbed both hands over his face, then stood. "Fine. If we are going to ruin my sleep schedule, at least we are doing it with good material."

Dayo looked at him. "That sounded like approval."

"It was. Do not make me repeat it."

Sharon finally spoke from the back. "Should I clear the afternoon fully?"

Amanda answered before Dayo could. "Clear the evening too."

Luna glanced at her. "Amanda."

"No," Amanda said. "You picked five songs while the entire world is screaming your name. We are not pretending this is a normal afternoon."

Dayo turned to Luna. "We do not have to record today. We can just sit with them."

Luna looked through the glass at the microphone.

The fear was still there. It had not vanished because she signed a contract or picked songs. But now the fear had something beside it. A direction. A first song. A room that did not ask her to be the old Luna or the perfect Luna or the Luna the internet had preserved in old clips.

Just Luna.

She stepped toward the booth.

"Let me try the first verse," she said.

Wayne moved before anyone could answer, suddenly all business. "Water. Warm-up. No hero vocals on the first pass. I want tone, not drama."

Amanda pointed at him. "That is the first sensible thing you’ve said."

"I say sensible things constantly. People ignore me because I complain around them."

Dayo watched Luna enter the booth.

She adjusted the headphones with both hands. For a moment, through the glass, she looked younger and older at the same time. Young because the uncertainty was visible. Older because she had survived enough to stand there anyway.

Dayo sat at the piano again.

Wayne armed the track.

Amanda held her breath without meaning to.

Sharon stopped typing.

Luna looked through the glass at Dayo.

He did not give her a speech. He only played the first chord.

And this time, when Luna opened her mouth, she was not hidden beneath anyone’s voice.