Ken had just sent Richard the revised merger plan when his phone buzzed with an entertainment news alert — "Olivia Accused of Copyright Extortion by Younger Brother, Lead Single Ownership in Dispute."
The photo showed Olivia at the entrance of the TCL Chinese Theatre, eyes red as she clutched a so-called "Starry Night Manuscript" (Ken immediately saw it was fake), sobbing to cameras:
"That song was the result of my sleepless nights. But now my brother suddenly demands two million in copyright fees, threatening to sue me if I don't pay…"
Ken's grip tightened on the phone, knuckles white. There it is! Just like last life — twisting black into white, painting me as greedy, shoving me into the storm. And now she's dragging in the media to corner me? Not this time!
He grabbed his car keys and drove straight toward Hollywood. On the way, he called his grandfather's lawyer, White.
"Mr. White, pull BMI's copyright registration record, plus the audio backup I made at Boston University's library in 2020 — the recording of me creating Starry Night."
White quickly replied: "Already sent to your email. Also, I reached out to a reporter from The Hollywood Reporter. They're willing to attend and hear your side."
Ken hung up, a warm current surging in his chest. Grandpa sure chose right — White always comes through when I need him most.
The press conference was set at the Four Seasons ballroom next to the Dolby Theatre. Outside, media swarmed with cameras, and Olivia's fans waved signs reading "Support Original Work."
The moment Ken stepped into the hall, microphones and cameras surrounded him:
"Mr. Ken, did you really extort your sister for copyright fees?"
"Why didn't you make the ownership public earlier?"
Olivia spotted him and rushed over, pretending to grab his hand, though calculation flickered in her eyes.
"Brother, let's talk in private, okay? Don't make a scene in front of the press."
Ken yanked his hand free. Still want to act like we're loving siblings? Perfect. With all these cameras here, I'll make you give back everything you stole.
He pulled three items from his briefcase: the BMI copyright certificate, a USB stick from Boston University's library, and a worn creative notebook.
"First of all, I didn't extort anyone." Ken raised the certificate toward the cameras. His voice was firm. "BMI registered the copyright for Starry Night under my name in 2020. Registration number BMI-897654. You can check their website yourselves. I was still in college then, so I used my grandfather's address."
Reporters immediately bent over their phones. Within seconds, someone shouted:
"It's true! Ken Howard. Registered October 2020 — six months before Olivia released the song!"
Olivia's face drained of color, but she still snapped back: "You secretly registered it! The manuscript's with me, that's the real proof!" She raised her forged copy, but her trembling hands gave her away.
Ken sneered and flipped open his own notebook. Inside were full lyrics and sheet music, complete with edits, scribbled notes like "Oct 15, 2020, Boston Library 3rd floor — changed chorus after hearing rain outside."
He handed it to the front row reporters. Your fake manuscript has no revisions, no timestamps. Anyone with half a brain can see the difference.
"Compare them," Ken said into the mic. His voice echoed through the ballroom. "Mine has dates, places, even the spark of inspiration. Hers? Just bare lyrics. And the chorus melody? She changed three notes — because she couldn't even remember what I originally wrote."
Right on cue, Ken's assistant wheeled in speakers and plugged in the USB. The hall filled with piano notes and a younger Ken's voice:
"Today I heard the rain at the library… chorus should rise here, like raindrops hitting glass…"
Background sounds of the library closing announcement drifted through the recording. Reporters gasped. Even Olivia's fans faltered, whispering: "Sounds legit… maybe Ken really did write it…"
Olivia panicked. She suddenly pointed toward the doorway:
"Liam! Tell them! Didn't you see me writing this song?"
Liam shoved his way through the crowd, clutching a notebook, feigning urgency.
"Yeah! I saw her write it! In 2021, at her Beverly Hills house. She stayed up for days, and I even brought her coffee!"
Ken turned, a cold smile tugging his lips. So you want in on this too? Fine, let's settle your score together.
He eyed the notebook. "Funny, Liam. That model didn't hit stores until last year. You claim she wrote the song in 2021 — but you were in a Canadian boarding school then. How could you be serving her coffee in Beverly Hills?"
Liam's face flamed red. The notebook nearly slipped from his hands. A reporter quickly checked his records and shouted:
"Confirmed! Liam was in Toronto boarding school in 2021, only flew back twice — and not during the period Olivia claims she wrote it!"
The hall erupted. Cameras swung toward Olivia and Liam. Her agent's face was ghost-pale, tugging her sleeve, urging retreat.
But Ken stopped them. "Hold on. One more thing."
He spoke evenly into the mic, but every word was sharp as steel.
"Last life, I wrote three hit songs for Olivia. She never gave me a cent, and told the world they were her originals. This time, asking for royalties isn't greed. It's justice. Also — I've founded my own music studio. From now on, I'll be signing talented newcomers. Real creators won't be buried anymore."
The press conference ended in an uproar. Within an hour, hashtags #OliviaCopyrightFraud and #KenProofOfCreation topped Twitter trends. Three of Olivia's sponsors immediately announced contract terminations. The Grammys released a statement: "We will review the legitimacy of Olivia's past awards."
As Ken left the hotel, a Hollywood Reporter journalist chased him.
"Mr. Ken, what's next for you?"
Ken smiled. "First, I'll help my studio's new artists cut demos. Then, there's a film company talking to me about scoring their OST."
Sliding into his car, Ken gazed at Hollywood's night skyline. Satisfaction swelled inside him.
Step one, complete. I exposed Olivia's lies and put my studio on the map. Next up — Liam. He won't just roll over. Let's see what trick he pulls, and I'll crush it.
Sure enough, when Ken returned home that night, Liam was already crying on the couch to Elaine:
"Mom, Ken humiliated sis in front of the media, and dragged me down too… He's gone too far!"
Elaine turned on Ken at once.
"Ken! How could you treat your sister like that? Even if she did take your song, you should've handled it privately. How could you shame her in front of everyone?"
Ken calmly switched shoes, unbothered. Now you care about your daughter's pride? When I was the one being trampled, where was your call for 'private talks'?
He looked her in the eye, tone flat and cold:
"Privately? I confronted her three times. Each time she denied it, then turned it back on me. What was I supposed to do — watch her flaunt my song as her masterpiece again, like last life, and swallow it?"
Elaine had no reply. Liam fell silent, only daring to lower his head and fake misery.
Ken ignored them both and headed upstairs. From the master bedroom's floor-to-ceiling window, Hollywood's lights glimmered in the distance.
He pulled up the studio's inbox — flooded with demo submissions from young artists. A sense of fulfillment spread through him.
This is the life I want. Living by my own power, shining with my own light. No more begging for scraps from anyone.
He sent White a quick text: "Thanks for the backup today. Dinner's on me next time."
The reply came fast: "Your grandfather would be proud to see this. By the way, Richard Group's 5% preferred shares have been transferred to your name. Board wants you at next week's meeting."
Ken set the phone down, feeling strength surge through him.
Both business and music fronts are advancing. Every step of revenge is firmer than the last. I know more challenges are coming. But this time… I'll never back down.