Chapter 47

“In a bit, some trusted people will take you to your seat. It’s a great spot—I’ll easily see you from the stage. If you need anything, just signal me, okay?” Sean offered.

“Thank you, Uncle Sean!” Emma said with a smile.

Sean doted on Emma, treating her like a child. Emma, who had long craved familial warmth, basked in his affection, eagerly anticipating the concert. Yet, as she entered the venue, a nagging unease crept over her. Something felt crucial was amiss. Compelled by this feeling, she called Josiah. “Josiah, I need you to do something for me.”

“Boss, aren't you supposed to be enjoying the concert? What’s so urgent?” Josiah’s voice crackled; he was hacking a major building’s control system in Nuverland, and her call caught him off guard.

“Check out this venue,” Emma instructed.

“Seriously? A concert venue? It’s not as critical as this building. Boss, you’re pushing it…” Josiah’s tone blended frustration and disbelief.

“Am I not the boss anymore? Or are you thinking of quitting?” Emma’s stern voice silenced him.

After a moment, he replied, “I’m on it.”

While waiting for Josiah’s report, Emma’s unease persisted. Though she didn't recall visiting this venue in a previous life, her instincts screamed danger.

“Boss, I’ve got news!” Josiah’s urgent voice arrived soon after. “Get everyone out now! It’s very dangerous!”

“What?” Emma’s heart sank. Her intuition had been right. “What did you find?”

“I intercepted chatter on the black market. There’s a high bounty for an explosion at this venue today!” Josiah exclaimed.

Emma’s heart raced as memories flooded back. In her previous life, a devastating terrorist attack had rocked the city during this very period. Deep undercover in a foreign secret organization, she'd learned of a plot targeting a megastar’s concert—a hundred thousand fans. Thousands died. The star survived, but was severely burned, paralyzed, and disfigured trying to save his fans. Emma never guessed the star was her uncle. In her previous life, she'd only seen horrific images of him, never realizing the connection.

“Boss, get your uncle to evacuate now!” Josiah warned.

“It’s too late,” Emma said through clenched teeth. The venue was packed with nearly a hundred thousand fans. An evacuation would cause chaos and might not prevent disaster. Furthermore, Sean’s career and freedom were at risk if the attack proceeded; he'd always refused to leave until every fan was safe. “Get everyone on this immediately. I need the enemy’s location in five minutes!” she ordered.

Meanwhile, Sean was backstage, oblivious to the impending danger, preparing for his performance, just as he had in Emma’s previous life. At 31 minutes and 25 seconds into his concert, a devastating explosion would tear through the venue. Sean wouldn’t run. He would try to help the fans, only to be consumed by the flames, leaving him disfigured and unable to sing.

Sean was putting the final touches on his appearance. He turned to his manager. “Is Emma in her seat?”

The manager checked the live feed. It was empty. “That’s odd; she’s not there.”

Sean frowned. “Could she have gotten lost?”

“No way, I walked her there with Tommy. Maybe she’s in the restroom? Mr. Rivera, should we start?” the manager suggested.

“Let’s wait a little longer,” Sean instructed.

His assistants, knowing his concern for his niece, didn’t push. But ten minutes past the scheduled start time, the audience grew restless, and Sean remained backstage, unwilling to begin without Emma.

“Mr. Rivera, should we start? The crowd is restless,” the manager reminded him.

“Has Emma shown up?” Sean inquired.

The manager shook their head.

Sean tried calling Emma, but her phone was off. “Emma…” He was about to search for her when someone arrived.

“Are you Mr. Sean Rivera? I have a letter for you from Miss Emma,” the person said.

“Yes, I am.” He accepted the letter, which read: “Uncle Sean, I’ll be back soon. Don’t wait for me. Even if I’m not in my seat, I’m still with you. Go on and give a great show!”

Sean breathed a sigh of relief. However, the delay was causing unrest; some fans demanded refunds, and the media prepared a critical report.

Suddenly, a spotlight hit the stage, and a man descended from above. The crowd erupted in cheers, shouting his name. The voices of one hundred thousand fans merged, echoing through the venue. Sean’s signature color was purple, symbolizing royalty. Tonight, a sea of purple glow sticks lit up the night. The crowd was dense, the atmosphere electric.

Meanwhile, Emma was acutely aware of the looming disaster. As she moved against the tide of fans, her phone rang.

“Boss, are you really trying to disarm the bomb yourself? It won’t work!” Josiah’s voice was laced with concern. “Please, wait for backup. The venue is huge, and it’s clear they planned this meticulously. You could die!”