Chapter 9: AGENT IV
Bill Miller leaned back in his oversized leather chair, a wide grin spreading across his face. His mansion, a sprawling estate in Beverly Hills, was the epitome of splendor. The sleek white facade gleamed under the afternoon sun, with towering glass windows providing a breathtaking view of the city below. The circular driveway, complete with a grand fountain, was lined with exotic cars, and the backyard featured an infinity pool that seemed to stretch into the horizon.
Inside, the luxury continued with marble floors, gilded accents, and high ceilings adorned with custom chandeliers. Bill's office was no exception—a lavish space lined with dark mahogany bookshelves and an enormous desk set against a wall of windows overlooking the estate's gardens.
But Bill wasn't admiring the view. He was practically vibrating with excitement, clad in a loose gray T-shirt, plaid pajama pants, and worn house slippers. He leaned forward, tapping his fingers against the armrest of his chair.
"I did it," he muttered, standing up abruptly. "I actually did it!"
He began pacing the room, his mind racing with possibilities.
Stephanie, his wife, stepped into the office, holding a steaming cup of coffee. Her vibrant red hair caught the sunlight streaming through the windows, and her silk robe shimmered as she moved. She raised an eyebrow at her husband's animated pacing.
"Bill?" she asked, her voice a mix of curiosity and amusement. "What's going on? You look like you've won the lottery."
Bill stopped mid-step, spinning around to face her. "Better than the lottery, Steph! Ethan Jones. He's ours. Well, almost. I got them to agree to sign!"
Stephanie leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms. "Didn't you say they haven't signed the contract yet?"
"They will," Bill said with a confident wave of his hand. "I just need to move fast. This kid is a once-in-a-lifetime talent. If I give them too much time to think, someone else might swoop in and snatch him away."
Stephanie's lips curved into a smirk. "You're like a kid on Christmas morning. Just don't get ahead of yourself, Bill. You've been known to get... overly excited."
Bill clutched his chest in mock offense. "Overly excited? Me? Never."
Stephanie rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a small laugh. "Alright, Mr. Genius. Just don't blow it."
Bill didn't respond, already reaching for his phone. He dialed his assistant, Lisa, who was usually the one to handle all of his frantic ideas.
"Lisa, it's Bill," he said, his voice brisk.
"Morning, Bill," Lisa replied, sounding tired. "What's up? You don't usually call this early."
"I need you to drop whatever you're doing and prep for a new contract," Bill said, pacing again.
Lisa paused. "New contract? For who?"
"Ethan Jones," Bill said, his voice swelling with pride.
"Who's Ethan Jones?"
Bill stopped pacing and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're telling me you haven't heard of him yet? He's the kid who wrote and performed Shape of You. The entire internet is losing its mind over him right now. I'm about to make this kid a star."
Lisa sounded skeptical. "Never heard of him. But alright, I'll draft something basic. Send me his details."
"Basic?" Bill echoed, incredulous. "No, no, no. This is Ethan Jones we're talking about. I need this contract to be airtight, comprehensive, and irresistible. Got it?"
Lisa sighed. "Fine, fine. Send me what you want, and I'll make it happen."
"Perfect," Bill said, hanging up without waiting for a reply. He turned back to Stephanie, who was watching him with an amused expression.
"You sure about this, Bill?" she asked.
"I've never been surer of anything in my life," he replied, his grin widening.
Across town, in a quiet neighborhood of Los Angeles, Ethan Jones sat in his modest home. The house was a comfortable, middle-class residence—simple but cozy. Ethan's room reflected his unassuming nature—a small space with pale blue walls, a neatly made bed, and a desk cluttered with notebooks and guitar picks. His acoustic guitar leaned against the wall, its wood worn smooth from years of use.
Ethan sat cross-legged on his bed, staring at his phone. It had been off for more than a day, following his mom's suggestion to take a break from social media. He hesitated for a moment, then pressed the power button.
The screen lit up, and almost immediately, notifications began pouring in. The sheer volume was overwhelming, his phone vibrating nonstop as messages, emails, and app alerts flooded in.
Ethan's blue eyes widened as he stared at the chaos. "What the heck…" he murmured.
He decided to start with YouTube. Opening the app, he typed the name of his song, Shape of You, into the search bar. The thumbnail of his performance appeared instantly, its view count loading with a slight delay.
When the numbers finally appeared, Ethan's jaw dropped.
"Thirty-five million views," he whispered, barely able to believe it. The likes were equally staggering—2.1 million and climbing.
His hand trembled slightly as he stared at the screen. Just a week ago, Shape of You had been another original song he had written in his bedroom, after the surge of memories a creative outlet for his love of music. He'd uploaded it on a whim, never imagining it would become the sensation it was now.
Still processing the numbers, Ethan opened Twitter. His account, which had been inactive for months, was suddenly alive with activity. He had gained 457,000 followers seemingly overnight, his notifications filled with retweets, mentions, and messages.
"This can't be real," he said under his breath, shaking his head.
Finally, he opened Instagram. His account was private, but that hadn't stopped over a million people from sending follow requests. The sheer volume made the app lag, freezing every few seconds as it tried to process the influx.
As Ethan scrolled through the endless notifications, the reality of his situation began to sink in. His life had changed—completely and irrevocably.
Then his phone started ringing.
The sudden noise startled him, and he glanced at the screen.
Bill Miller's name flashed across it.
Ethan hesitated, his thumb hovering over the accept button. He wasn't sure if he was ready for another intense conversation. But he also knew that this call was important.
Taking a deep breath, he answered.
"Hello?" he said, his voice steady despite the nerves bubbling beneath the surface.
"Ethan! My boy!" Bill's booming voice came through the receiver, brimming with energy and enthusiasm.
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