Songbird

Prologue- I Knew You Were Trouble

Amelie

Lately, nothing in my life has gone according to plan.

I lost five hundred thousand dollars in a crippling lawsuit that left my bank funds on the brink of extinction. My last album has only sold 300 copies in the four weeks that it's been out, and to add the icing on top of the misery cake that has been my life, my husband is thinking about leaving me and our unborn son to fend for ourselves.

It's not easy being a two time Grammy Award winning pop star.

Forget about having privacy. Everything you do, everything you say, even your most private moments are broadcasted all over the world, for greedy fans and managers to see who you really are.

It's exhausting.

My ankles scream with pain, swelled up like a balloon. "Mario!" I scream into the megaphone beside my four poster bed. "Bring me a water with one lemon and two spoonfuls of sugar! Do not forget the ice!"

I look down at my laptop, halfway finished with reading the reviews from my latest album.

You never should read the reviews of your work. That's rule number three of being involved in this life, but I just couldn't sit here, getting fatter and fatter, without seeing what people really thought of me.

@AlexisMia15- nice cankles Amelie. Hope your baby isn't blocking your vocal chords!!

@suckerforyou- What has two legs, looks like an elephant, and sings like one too? Amelie Jenkins!

I shut the screen of my laptop, massaging my sore forehead. 

So maybe I didn't need to read them. But I'm dying in bedrest. At eight months pregnant, I can barely stand and have no energy to try to fix my mangled reputation.

I slam my head back into the headboard and groan.

I, Amelie Marina Darcy-Jenkins, am finished if I don't figure this out.

"Here's your water, ma'am." Mario runs back in, balancing the fine glass in his hand. He sets it down on an intricate tray and hands it to me.

I take a sip, promptly throwing it back in his face. "What is this?" I ask, "This is disgusting!" I sigh again, running my fingers through my oily blonde hair.

"It's exactly what you asked for, ma'am." Mario is still patient with me, even after having to put up with my mood swings for seven continuous months.

"I know that," I snap at him, turning my head towards him, "You made it incorrectly." 

Mario takes the glass from me and sets it back down on the tray. "Something seems to be bothering you, ma'am." He says, standing at attention at the edge of my bed. 

"Great job, genius. You've figured it out." I snarl at him, ignoring the pain in my ankles.

"If you don't mind, ma'am, can I ask what is it?" 

"While I sit here, very much pregnant, and in a rather fragile state," I whine, "My reputation, my career, everything I've spent the last ten years trying to build is currently unravelling. And yes, Mario, I don't know how to fix it."

"Mrs. Amelie, if I may-"

"No, you may not, Mario." I hold up a hand, dismissing him.

A knock sounds on my door.

Mario gets up to open it, but the person on the other side of the door opens it for him.

I groan. 

"Daniel," I rub my cheeks, sighing, "To what do I owe this....pleasure?"

"Is that any way to greet the father of your son?" Daniel Lee Henningsen clicks his tongue and comes to sit on the edge of my bed. 

"You're not the father so I can greet you however the hell I want," I hiss, sitting up sharply, "What do you want, Daniel?"

"The way I see it, we both need something," Daniel says, standing up and pacing the room with his hands behind his back, "You need to salvage the rest of your precious reputation and I need to get in touch with my girls." He runs a fat hand through his thinning red hair and smiles. "You can help me, or I'll tell Harold what I know. Then you'll be finished."

"You wouldn't dare." I spit at him from my bed, ignoring the increasing pain from my stomach.

"I think you'll find a desperate man is more dangerous than a man who has it all. And right now, I'm desperate." Daniel sneers at me.

"So what is it that you want?" I say.

"I want you to bring me my daughters."

"Here? To LA?" I ask, shocked. "I thought Emery and Autumn wanted nothing to do with you."

"But they won't know it was me who brought them here." Daniel smirks, obviously impressed with his own plan.

Daniel Lee Henningsen is scum, plain and simple. I should've never let him take me into the cheap, disgusting, roadside motel room, that night.

I think the worst part about it is that I am a puppet on his strings. I'm forced to dance for his amusement.

If I don't, he'll tell the entire world what he knows about me.

"What do you have in mind?" I concede, propping my hand up on a pillow.