Chapter 629
By the next morning, Marissa Cole’s name was no longer moving alone.
It had started with Marianne Vale’s article, then the voice excerpt, then the documents. For a few hours, people argued over the same familiar questions. Why now? Why wait so long? Why speak without showing her face? Why should anyone believe an old claim against a powerful man?
Then other memories began to surface.
Not all of them came with proof. Some were only old fans remembering canceled appearances and missing album dates. Some were former industry workers speaking carefully, saying they had seen enough to believe Marissa even if they could not say more.
But the tone online had changed.
@MusicLedger:
Marissa Cole’s story is bad enough by itself, but a lot of old MM Label disappearances look different today.
Leah M.:
People keep asking "why now?" Maybe because she finally has enough protection to say it.
@RNBArchiveRoom:
We found two old magazine scans showing Marissa’s album rollout was active. Then nothing. The "creative differences" line aged badly.
Noah Briggs:
Michael Erickson has been near too many ruined careers for this to be treated like one isolated story.
The speculation moved faster than MM Label could control. Some people went too far, naming artists who had not spoken and turning old industry rumors into certainty. Marianne’s team posted a warning under her article, asking readers not to identify possible victims without consent.
That warning spread too.
It did not slow the story. It only made people more careful about how they spoke.
Inside the secure room at JD Records, Felix watched the second wave build.
Dayo stood behind him with his arms folded, reading the screen without touching anything.
"They’re guessing," Felix said.
"They were always going to."
"Some of the guesses are wrong."
"Then we don’t use them."
Felix nodded and opened another window. "The people we contacted are starting to answer."
He brought up another list.
The list had started from Isobel Marchetti’s drive, but Felix had spent days sorting it into groups. Names with direct complaints. Names tied to blacklisting. Names linked to stolen credits. Names attached to legal memos. Names with too little information and too much risk.
Marissa had been the first public face, even without showing her face.
She had not been the only one contacted.
Felix opened the first response.
Elena Voss. Songwriter. MM-associated sessions, eight years ago. Credit dispute tied to a single released by one of Michael’s favored artists. Claims her writing credit was removed after she refused a private arrangement. Says she has demo timestamps, split-sheet drafts, emails, and messages from the producer. Will speak through counsel. No video.
Dayo read it twice then nodded, indicating he continues.
Felix opened the next.
Caleb Rourke. Producer. Worked on two MM Label projects. Claims Michael’s office pressured him to surrender backend points and later blacklisted him after he refused to alter a witness statement in another artist complaint. Has emails and two saved voice mails. Will speak if legal fees and security are covered.
The third was shorter.
Former regional radio assistant. Confirms Marissa Cole promo pull came from above, not from local performance metrics. Has old campaign email. Will not go on record yet.
Dayo walked to the second desk and leaned against it. "Make sure they understand the terms."
Felix looked back at him. "Legal support, security support, relocation if there is a credible threat, document handling, no payment for testimony."
"Say it clearly every time."
"Noted, I would."
Dayo’s expression stayed flat, but his voice hardened. "I do not want Michael’s lawyers saying we bought stories."
"They won’t have the chance. Everything goes through counsel or verified journalists. Nobody gets cash for accusations. We offer protection only."
"Good."
Felix clicked into the response log. "Marianne is preparing a follow-up. She has Marissa, Elena, Caleb, the radio assistant on background, and one former junior lawyer who says complaint files were handled as containment issues."
Dayo looked up. "The lawyer is ready?"
"Not on record by name. Not yet. But they confirmed enough for Marianne to use the phrase ’former MM Label legal staffer’ if the documents check out."
Dayo nodded slowly.
This was the part that mattered. One statement could be attacked as bitterness. Two could be called coincidence. A pattern, supported by documents from different corners of the same machine, became harder to bury.
Felix hesitated before speaking again.
"There’s something else."
Dayo waited.
"Daniel Cross forwarded the weak feeler to Michael. We caught movement after. Michael started pulling old Marissa files and asking for restricted legal archives."
Dayo’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Did that put her at risk?"
"Not her location. He does not have that. But he knows the story came from more than Marianne asking around."
Dayo was quiet for a moment.
Then he said, "Let him know enough to panic. Not enough to reach them."
"That was the idea."
"No games with their safety, Felix."
Felix accepted the correction without argument. "Understood."
A new notification appeared on the monitor.
Marianne’s follow-up article had gone live.
Felix opened it.
Marianne Vale Reports
After Marissa Cole, more former MM Label workers describe threats, buried credits, and career retaliation
The article did not treat every account as the same. Marianne separated them carefully.
Marissa’s complaint and alleged retaliation remained the center.
Elena Voss’ statement focused on credits, intimidation, and career pressure.
Caleb Rourke’s statement dealt with backend rights and blacklisting.
The radio assistant confirmed that Marissa’s campaign had been pulled from above despite active promo plans.
The former legal staffer described complaint files being placed under internal "containment" tracking.
There were redacted emails, excerpts from old schedules, a split-sheet draft, and a message from a producer telling Elena, "Drop the credit issue if you want to keep working in this circle."
Dayo read that line twice.
Felix did not speak.
The article ended with a note that Michael Erickson and MM Label had been contacted again for comment.
No comment had been received before publication.
****
Michael was in his office when the follow-up landed.
Clara saw it first.
She had not left the building since the previous night. Her jacket was on the back of her chair, her shoes were under the desk, and the coffee beside her had gone cold. She opened the article, read the headline, and felt her stomach tighten.
More former MM Label workers.
Not one.
More.
She walked into Michael’s office without knocking.
He looked up from a call. "What?"
Clara placed the tablet on his desk.
Michael read the headline.
For a moment, he did not move.
Then he ended the call without saying goodbye.
"Who?"
"Elena Voss. Caleb Rourke. A radio assistant on background. A former legal staffer. Marissa’s lawyer is also quoted."
Michael stood. "Elena Voss?"
"Yes."
"Caleb Rourke is a drunk who begged for work."
Clara said nothing.
Michael grabbed the tablet and scrolled.
His face changed as he saw the documents. Not fear first. Anger. Then a sharper kind of attention, because these were not random names from outside the building. These were names attached to People that he had thought he finished.
"Who gave them this?" he asked.
"We don’t know."
"That is the wrong answer."
"It is the only answer I have."
Michael threw the tablet onto the couch. It bounced once and landed face down.
"Find out who has been contacted. Every former artist. Every writer. Every producer. I want a list of anyone who might talk."
Clara stayed where she was.
"That list will be long," she said not even sure if that was possible think of the people Michael had ended their career.
Michael turned slowly.
"What did you say?"
Clara felt the mistake, but it was already out. "I mean there are years of files. It may take time."
Michael walked toward the side table, picked up a heavy glass, and held it for a second. Clara thought he might drink from it.
Instead, he threw it against the wall.
The glass broke near the cabinet.
Clara flinched.
Outside the office, two staff members looked up from their desks. One of them, a junior archive coordinator named Miles Reade, had been carrying a folder past the half-open door. He stopped, not fully visible from inside the office.
Michael pointed toward Clara, though the anger was not really for her.
"They think they can all crawl out now because one woman cried into a microphone?" he said. "I ended those careers for a reason. They were warned. Every one of them knew what would happen if they crossed the wrong office."
Clara stared at him.
The words landed badly.
Michael seemed to realize that a moment later. His jaw tightened.
"Clean this up," he said.
Clara looked at the broken glass, then back at him.
"The article?"
"Everything."
She left the office with the tablet in her hand.
Miles was gone from the hallway.
She did not notice.
The clip appeared forty minutes later.
It did not come from a major outlet at first. It came from an anonymous account, then was picked up by a small media watchdog page that had been tracking deleted Marissa posts.
The video was rough. It seemed to have been recorded from just outside Michael’s office. The image was partly blocked by the doorframe, but the audio was clear enough.
The glass breaking.
Clara’s quick breath.
Michael’s voice.
"They think they can all crawl out now because one woman cried into a microphone? I ended those careers for a reason. They were warned."
The account did not claim the clip proved Marissa’s allegation.
It did not need to.
The caption was simple:
This is how Michael Erickson spoke inside MM Label today, according to a source familiar with the office.
By the time Clara saw it, the clip had already crossed eight million views.
She stood in the hallway outside Michael’s office and played it once with the volume low.
Her face went cold.
Michael opened the door behind her. "Why are you standing there?"
She turned the phone toward him.
He watched the clip.
The broken glass.
This was his own voice.
And his own words.
For the first time since the Marissa article went live, Michael did not immediately speak.
Then he took Clara’s phone and played it again.
"Who recorded this?"
"I don’t know."
"Who was outside my office?"
"Several people were moving around. Archive, legal support, admin."
"Get security."
"Michael—"
"Get security now."
Clara took the phone back carefully. "If we start dragging staff into rooms while this clip is spreading, it will make it worse."
Michael stepped closer. "Do you think I care about worse?"
She looked at him, and for a second the old loyalty did not come when she reached for it.
"Yes," she said quietly. "You should."
He stared at her.
Then his phone began ringing.
A board member.
Again.
The follow-up article and the leaked office clip reached the public almost together.
By late afternoon, Michael had three problems.
Marissa’s original story had not faded.
Marianne’s second report had turned one claim into a pattern.
The clip made him look exactly like the man his accusers described.
Content creators cut the clip beside the article. Legal analysts warned people not to treat it as a confession, then explained why it still mattered. Archive accounts began building timelines of MM Label careers that had stopped after disputes with Michael’s office.
Some posts were reckless. Some were careful. The careful ones traveled further.
Harold Venn:
The leaked office clip does not prove the underlying allegations by itself. It does, however, create serious questions about retaliation, state of mind, and internal culture at MM Label.
Nia Bell:
Do not name possible victims without consent. Focus on what is documented: Marissa’s timeline, Elena’s credit dispute, Caleb’s blacklisting claim, and now Michael’s own words about ending careers.
@WritersRoomFiles:
Elena Voss has been credited incorrectly on that song for years. People in writing circles knew something was wrong, but nobody wanted to say it under their real name.
Tasha Monroe:
I said yesterday Marissa’s promo pull was strange. After reading the follow-up, I’ll say this: local radio did not kill that campaign. It came from above.
The phrase "I ended those careers for a reason" became the line everyone repeated.
MM Label released a short statement calling the clip "edited and misleading," but they did not deny that the voice was Michael’s.
That only made reporters ask sharper questions.
By market close, MM Label’s parent company had dropped 14.6 percent.
Trading volume was more than triple its usual level.
Financial reporters, who had ignored Marissa’s story at first, now paid attention. They did not care about music drama. They cared about litigation risk, governance failure, artist contract exposure, and the possibility that more claimants were coming.
Market North:
MM Label parent slides as Erickson allegations widen and former workers describe retaliation pattern
Business Line Daily:
Investors seek clarity from MM Label board after second report and leaked Erickson office clip
The Equity Desk:
Artist contract risk grows as MM Label faces questions over executive conduct and internal complaint handling
Inside MM Label, calls did not stop.
Artists wanted answers.
Managers wanted contract reviews.
Sponsors asked whether upcoming campaigns would be delayed.
Two outside law firms requested preservation assurances.
Clara moved from room to room with a tablet and two phones, answering what she could and avoiding what she could not.
Michael stayed in his office with the door closed.
That did not calm anyone.
Marianne Vale did not publish the third thing she received.
Not yet.
The secure inbox was busier than it had been in years. Some messages were useless. Some were angry but unsupported. Some were from people trying to attach themselves to a story they did not understand.
But several were different.
A former assistant had names.
A former accountant had invoice references.
A woman who had worked as a session vocalist sent one line first:
I was told what happened to Marissa would happen to me.
Marianne forwarded nothing publicly.
She built folders. She called lawyers. She asked for dates.
She knew the pressure to move fast would be heavy. Every editor wanted the next headline. Every outlet wanted to be the one that broke the next name.
But if she rushed, Michael’s lawyers would use the first mistake to poison everything.
So she went slowly where it mattered.
By evening, Marissa’s lawyer informed her that coordinated counsel had been retained for multiple claimants.
Not a lawsuit yet.
A preservation demand first.
That was smart.
Before accusations became court filings, before anyone argued over damages, before Michael could claim old records had gone missing by accident, the legal team wanted MM Label and Michael Erickson ordered to preserve documents.
Marianne confirmed the existence of the demand but held the details until it was served.
The letter reached MM Label at 7:38 p.m.
Clara received the notice through legal, printed the first page, and read it twice before taking it to Michael.
He was standing by the window with his jacket back on, speaking to someone in a low voice.
When he saw Clara’s face, he ended the call.
"What now?"
She handed him the letter.
"It is a preservation demand from coordinated counsel."
He took it.
His eyes moved down the page.
Marissa Cole. Elena Voss. Caleb Rourke. Three unnamed claimants.
The demand named Michael Erickson, MM Label, affiliated entities, relevant legal staff, publicity departments, artist management offices, and archived communications systems. It instructed them to preserve emails, contracts, internal memos, phone logs, assistant schedules, security records, settlement drafts, payment records, campaign documents, and communications involving complaint handling or retaliation.
Michael read the claimant names again.
His face tightened at Elena’s name.
Then Caleb’s.
Then the unnamed claimants.
"Who are the three unnamed?" he asked.
Clara’s answer was quiet.
"We do not know."
Michael looked up from the letter.
For once, the room had no immediate order that could fix the problem.
Outside his office, staff worked with their heads down and their phones turned over. Inside, the broken glass had been cleaned from the wall, but a small mark remained where it had hit.
Michael folded the letter once.
Then he unfolded it.
Clara waited.
He looked at the first page again, then at the long list of records they were now being told not to touch.
The story had moved past headlines.
It had entered the files.