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The media created one version and fans created another.

Everyone owns a piece of me but nobody knows the whole thing.

Maybe it’s time they did.

The glass is still cold beneath my palm.

The snowflake remains frozen there.

Broken but beautiful.

Maybe because of the crack.

“So?”

Zymon’s voice pulls me back.

I release a slow breath. The kind of breath you take before stepping off a cliff and hoping you survive the fall.

And then I push away from the window.

“Set it up.”

He simply nods.

He doesn’t offer a celebration or a victory speech.

He’s known me too long to do that shit.

I walk back toward the recording booth as the purple lights of the studio wash over the room.

Outside, my city stretches endlessly beneath me.

While on the inside, I feel something coming.

Something that feels inevitable.

I just don’t know what.

Back then, I thought what was coming was another opportunity.

Another deal.

Another thing demanding pieces of me I wasn’t willing to give.

But I was wrong.

The thing coming toward me wasn’t success.

It wasn’t another headline.

It was winter.

My winter.

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Where in the World Is Our Ice Princess?