Chapter 4 – The Silent Livestream
The internet was a battlefield.
It didn't forgive.It didn't forget.And it never showed mercy.
The moment Avery Rivers' name appeared anywhere online, the attack began.
Thousands of comments. Tens of thousands of insults. Strangers who had never met her spoke with absolute certainty about who she was, what she deserved, and how she should disappear.
Avery knew this.
That was why she chose tonight.
In the dim basement apartment, she set everything up slowly and carefully.
A cheap microphone. Twenty dollars. The wire had a small crack near the plug.
A secondhand webcam she bought from a pawn shop. The image was grainy, the colors dull.
No professional lighting. No filters.
Just reality.
She didn't wear makeup.
No red lipstick. No perfect lashes. No "Nation's Sweetheart" smile.
She pulled on a simple black hoodie and let her dark hair fall loose around her face. Her skin looked pale under the yellow ceiling bulb, her eyes shadowed but calm.
Too calm.
She sat down in front of the old desk and opened her laptop.
The platform was VibeLive.
Second-tier. Cheap. Often ignored by big celebrities.
Perfect.
She created a new account.
No profile picture.
No description.
She titled the stream with only four words:
The Last Song
Then—
She clicked Go Live.
For the first few seconds, nothing happened.
The viewer count stayed at zero.
Avery didn't move.
She simply looked into the camera.
Thirty seconds passed.
Then the number changed.
10 viewers.50 viewers.300 viewers.
Someone recognized her face.
The chat appeared.
At first, it was confused.
"Is that…?""No way.""Looks like her."
Then the flood began.
The room's Heat value skyrocketed.
VibeLive's algorithm caught it instantly.
The stream was pushed to the front page.
50,000 viewers.
100,000 viewers.
200,000.
300,000 people poured in like vultures sensing blood.
The chat became a sewer.
"Still alive? Why haven't you jumped yet?""Fake saint. Fake tears.""Give us our money back, you fraud!""She deserves worse.""Look at her basement. She looks like a rat.""Disgusting."
Insults flew so fast they blurred together.
The screen shook from the speed of hatred.
In the control panel, warnings flashed.
[Chat Activity: Extreme][System Stress Level: High]
Avery read none of it.
She didn't look down.
She didn't flinch.
She stared directly into the camera.
Her Ice Queen aura activated naturally.
Her gaze was steady. Cold. Clear.
It unsettled people.
Some viewers paused their typing.
"Why isn't she crying?""Say something.""Apologize!"
Minutes passed.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Avery said nothing.
She didn't bow her head.
She didn't defend herself.
The silence became uncomfortable.
Then strange.
Then terrifying.
The chat slowed.
Not because the hate disappeared—
—but because people didn't understand what they were seeing.
This wasn't the broken woman they wanted.
This wasn't the collapse they came to watch.
Avery slowly moved her hands.
She placed them on the dusty keyboard in front of her.
The movement was calm. Controlled.
The camera caught everything.
Someone typed:
"What is she doing…?"
Another:
"Is this a joke?"
Avery took a breath.
Not a shaky one.
A deep, steady breath.
The system interface flickered briefly in her vision.
[Skill Active: Vocal Cord Reconstruction][Song Ready: "Rolling in the Deep"][Audience Emotional Resistance: High][Override Probability: Calculating…]
She pressed the first key.
A low note filled the stream.
Deep.
Raw.
Not loud—but heavy.
The chat froze.
One second passed.
Then her voice entered.
Strong.
Clear.
Unfiltered.
No auto-tune.
No backing track.
Just her voice and the keyboard.
"We could have had it all…"
The words struck like a punch.
The chat slowed even more.
Someone typed:
"…wait."
Her voice rose, powerful but controlled, carrying years of pain that didn't belong to this world.
"Rolling in the deep…"
The basement walls vibrated softly.
The microphone crackled—but didn't break.
Viewers leaned closer to their screens.
This wasn't idol music.
This wasn't pretty.
This was honest.
The hate didn't disappear—but it cracked.
Comments changed.
"Is this live?""How is her voice like that?""No way this is real."
Avery's eyes never left the camera.
She sang not to beg.
Not to explain.
Not to apologize.
She sang to declare war.
As the chorus hit, her voice expanded, filling every corner of the stream.
Powerful.
Unapologetic.
Unbreakable.
Somewhere, deep in the code of VibeLive, alarms triggered.
[Abnormal Engagement Detected.][Viewer Retention: 98%][Emotional Spike: Unprecedented]
The song continued.
And for the first time since her fall—
The world stopped laughing.