That's my daughter. The final chorus. Tiana opened her eyes, looked directly at her mama, and let everything go. Every fear, every hunger, pain, every night, wondering if morning would come and her mama would still be breathing.
And I'll rise up high like the waves. I'll rise up in spite of the ache. She hit the final note and held it ten seconds. eleven, twelve. Pure, sustained, heartbreaking power from a 10-year-old child who had been singing in hospital stairwells to survive.
When she released the note, the auditorium fell into absolute silence. Five full seconds of stunned quiet, then eruption. the entire auditorium on its feet, screaming, crying, stamping, a standing ovation that shook the walls. Carol Bennett was shouting, Yes, baby! Yes!
Diane tried to stand, but her legs wouldn't hold her. Carol caught her, held her up. Victoria sat frozen, face cycling through shock and something that looked like fear. Mr. Harrison had his hands in the air, tears streaming.
Good Lord, good lord above. Christopher Hayes stood, applauding so hard his hands hurt, face completely broken open, tears unchecked. He'd spent 20 years in the music industry. He'd heard every kind of talent.
This wasn't talent. This was something else entirely. Tiana stood on the stage breathing hard, confused by the reaction. She looked for her mama in the front row, found her.
They locked eyes. Diane mouthed, I love you. Tiana mouthed back, I love you more. Christopher watched this exchange, and something inside him shattered.
The scoring began. Victoria was forced to judge, her voice tight. It was adequate for what it was for a child. 7.0. The audience booed.
Actual boos in a community talent show. Someone shouted, That's racist. Mr. Harrison turned to Victoria, genuinely angry. Are you kidding?
That was a 10. A perfect 10. That child is a miracle. Christopher stood, voice breaking.
I'm giving this an 11. I don't care if that's not protocol. He paused, struggling. That performance was the most honest thing I've heard in 20 years in this industry.
That little girl has a gift from God. 10.0. Average score 9.3. First place after preliminaries.
The auditorium exploded again. Tiana, small and overwhelmed, was being hugged by Carol and her mama and strangers. People were crying, phones everywhere, already posting, already sharing. Victoria stood abruptly and left the judge's table, her face white.
Backstage, she pulled aside Brian Michaels, the competition coordinator. They disappeared into an office. Through the small window, people could see them talking intensely. Victoria showing Brian something on her phone.
Nobody noticed except Christopher Hayes who had followed them. He stood in the hallway outside the office listening. Victoria's voice carried through the door. She's been posting covers online since she was seven.
No licensing. That's copyright infringement. File the ethics complaint. We can disqualify her before finals.
Christopher's hands curled into fists. Finals were scheduled for next Thursday, seven days away. Diane's surgery was scheduled for eighteen days away, and Christopher had just heard Victoria plot to destroy his daughter's only chance to save her mother's life, the mother he had abandoned, had the woman he'd left with nothing. He pulled out his phone and started making calls.