The first note hit him like déjà vu.
Elias was walking past the locker bank near the north stairwell when a faint sound reached him — familiar, delicate, dangerously recognizable.
Piano.
His piano.
The chords drifted from a phone speaker on someone's open locker shelf. A kid in a varsity hoodie scrolled on Spotify, laughing with two friends. He had no idea what he was playing.
But Elias did.
He stopped mid-step.
That song.
His song.
The one from the file.
The one no one was supposed to hear — not even Alex.
And it was playing. Out loud.
"Yo," Hoodie Kid said to his friend. "This new guy? Eli Hart or whatever? His voice is unreal. Sounds like he's been cry-singing since birth."
Elias's breath stilled.
Eli Hart.
The name wasn't real. It had never existed. But it was just close enough. Someone had named it after him — half of it, anyway. "Eli" from Elias. "Hart" like... what, irony?
He blinked hard.
Someone had taken the track. Uploaded it. Named it.
And didn't ask.
He kept walking, slowly. Calculated.
Then faster.
He hit the side hallway by the gym and leaned against the wall, pulling out his phone. Opened every app. Nothing. No new accounts. No uploads from him.
Nothing on his SoundCloud. Nothing scheduled.
Whoever posted it had gone around him.
It hadn't been Alex.
She was too private. Too calculating. She'd never risk exposure like that.
And she'd looked... shaken. But not vengeful.
So who—
Flash. Memory.
Tyler.
Standing in the kitchen. Holding his phone. "I just sent it to one guy."
Elias exhaled slowly.
Marc was going to kill him.
---
Meanwhile…
In the kitchen of their small, plant-filled bungalow, Tyler Reed scrolled through his DMs.
"Oh, crap," he muttered.
Marc, at the table sipping coffee, looked up. "What?"
"I think Elias is trending."
Marc stood so fast he spilled his mug.