From A Producer To A Global Superstar

Chapter 461: Back To Work

The office felt smaller than he remembered.

Not in a way that was uncomfortable, but in a way that made Dayo realize how much the world outside these walls had expanded over the past week. He stood in the lobby for a moment, taking in the familiar sight of the reception desk, the framed records on the walls, the low hum of machinery and voices that formed the soundtrack of a working label. He had built this space piece by piece, filled it with people he trusted, turned it into something that functioned with or without his daily presence. But stepping back into it now, after seven days of being somewhere else entirely, he felt the distance between who he had been when he left and who he was now.

"Well."

The voice came from behind him, sharp and amused. Dayo turned to find Valerie leaning against the doorframe of her office, arms crossed, eyebrow raised.

"Look who decided to rejoin the living," she said.

Dayo smiled. It came easily, without calculation, the kind of smile that used to require effort. "Good morning to you too, Valerie."

She pushed off the doorframe and walked toward him, studying his face with the professional scrutiny she applied to everything. Valerie had been with him long enough to read his moods like weather patterns. She could tell when he was stressed, when he was focused, when he was performing for a room. She had never seen him like this.

"Something’s different," she said, stopping a few feet away.

"Is it?"

"You look..." She searched for the word. "Relaxed. Have you been sleeping?"

"Some."

"And you’re smiling. At nine in the morning. Voluntarily."

"I smile in the morning."

"No, you don’t." Valerie tilted her head. "You usually walk in here like we’re all on trial and you’re deciding whether to prosecute. Today you look like you already gave us all a pardon."

Before Dayo could respond, Ulrich emerged from the conference room, a tablet in one hand and a coffee in the other. He was a large man with a quiet presence, the kind of person who filled space without trying to dominate it. He spotted Dayo and stopped walking.

"Boss," he said, his deep voice carrying across the lobby. "You’re here."

"I am."

"And you’re smiling." Ulrich looked at Valerie. "Is he smiling?"

"He’s smiling," Valerie confirmed.

Ulrich set his coffee down on the reception desk and walked over, joining Valerie in her inspection. "You disappeared for a week. No explanation. Just ’I’m busy’ and Sharon fielding calls like your personal guard. And now you walk in here glowing like you won the lottery."

"I’m not glowing."

"You absolutely are," Wayne called out, appearing from the hallway that led to the studios. He was the youngest of the management team, sharp and fast-talking, with the kind of energy that made him excellent at spotting talent and exhausting at meetings. "We were just talking about it. Akin said you probably found religion. Jinad thinks you discovered a new sleep schedule. I personally believe there’s a woman involved."

Dayo felt the corner of his mouth twitch. "You personally believe a lot of things, Wayne."

"Most of them are right." Wayne stopped beside the others, completing the half-circle of people now examining him like he was a specimen in a lab. "So? Which is it? Enlightenment, sleep, or romance?"

"None of the above."

"Liar."

"I’m standing right here," Dayo said, though there was no heat in it.

"Exactly," Wayne said. "And you’re taking it. You’re not deflecting, you’re not shutting down the conversation, you’re not giving us that look that says ’get back to work.’ You’re just standing there, smiling, taking it. That’s how I know something happened."

Valerie laughed, a low, warm sound. "He has a point. You are unusually calm right now. What did you do for a week? Meditate? Travel? Join a monastery?"

Dayo looked at the three of them, at the faces of people who had stood beside him through every phase of this operation, who had never questioned his leadership even when his decisions seemed inexplicable. They were more than employees. They were the family he had chosen, the people who filled the spaces that blood relations couldn’t reach.

"I was with someone important," he said quietly.

The statement landed with more weight than he intended. The teasing energy in the group shifted, became something more attentive.

"Someone important," Valerie repeated, her voice softer.

"Yes."

"Care to elaborate?" Wayne asked, though his tone had lost its edge.

"Not yet." Dayo met their eyes, each of them in turn. "With time, you’ll all know. I promise. But right now, I need to focus on what I missed. We have work to do."

He expected resistance. He expected more questions, more pushing, more of the curiosity that these people were entitled to after a week of silence. But they knew him well enough to recognize the boundary he was setting. Not a wall. A door, slightly ajar, with the promise that it would open when he was ready.

"Fair enough," Ulrich said, picking his coffee back up. "But we’re holding you to that promise."

"You always do."

They moved toward the conference room as a group, the rhythm of work reasserting itself with practiced ease. Dayo fell into step with them, but before he could enter the room, he felt a presence to his left. He turned to find Alice standing in the doorway of her office.

She was dressed professionally, as always, her dark hair pulled back, her expression composed. But there was something in her eyes, a flicker of assessment that passed quickly before she smoothed it away.

"Dayo," she said.

"Alice. Good morning."

"Good morning." She stepped closer, and Dayo felt something shift in his chest. Not guilt, exactly. Something more complicated. The memory of her confession, the silence he had offered instead of a clear answer, the role that moment had played in the unraveling of everything with Luna. He looked at her now and felt none of the old tension. Just clarity. Just the peace that came from finally knowing what mattered.

"How are you?" he asked, and his voice carried a warmth that was genuine but not misleading. Warmth for a colleague, a friend, someone who had been loyal to the work even when the personal had become messy.

"I’m well." Alice searched his face, and for a moment he saw her register the change. The way he stood, the ease in his posture, the absence of the guarded energy that usually lived in his shoulders. Her expression flickered, almost imperceptibly. Then she nodded, as if answering a question she had asked herself internally. "You look different. Good. But different."

"I’ve been resting."

"Apparently." She offered a small smile, the professional kind she used when she wanted to maintain distance. "We should talk about the schedule when you have time. Some things have shifted while you were away. Opportunities we had to pass on, timelines we need to adjust."

"Set up a meeting. Today if possible."

"I will." She paused, then added, "I’m glad you’re back. We missed having you here."

Dayo nodded, and there was nothing in his response that could be misread. Nothing that offered more than friendship and professional respect. "I’m glad to be back."

He turned and walked into the conference room, and Alice watched him go. She stood there for a moment longer than necessary, her head tilted slightly, her expression unreadable. Then she shook her head almost imperceptibly, a gesture of self-correction, and returned to her office.

Whatever she had thought she saw, she told herself it was nothing. After all, they were not dating. They had never been dating. His warmth, his ease, his newfound calm—none of it was hers to analyze. She had her work, and she had her pride, and those would have to be enough.

The conference room filled quickly. Rick and Gwen arrived together, the two producers who had been with the label since its early days, their creative partnership as seamless as their bickering. They greeted Dayo with the familiar mixture of respect and exasperation that came from waiting a week for direction. Jinad and Akin came next, the two Nigerian producers Sharon had brought over, still finding their footing in a new country but carrying the confidence of men who knew their craft. They nodded at Dayo with the deference of newcomers who understood they were being given an opportunity most people never saw.

Dayo sat at the head of the table and listened as Sharon walked him through everything that had been put on hold. It was more than he expected. Collaboration requests that had expired. Studio sessions that had been rescheduled twice. A distribution deal that was still on the table but growing impatient for an answer. Rick and Gwen laid out the tracks they had been working on, the beats that needed vocals, the songs that were complete but waiting for his approval.

"You disappeared at the worst possible time," Rick said, though there was more observation than accusation in his voice. "We were supposed to start the rollout for the new compilation. Gwen had the timeline mapped out. Everything got pushed."

"I know," Dayo said. "And I take responsibility for that. But I’m here now. And we’re going to make up for lost time."

"How?" Gwen asked, her practical nature always cutting to the core of any problem. "Some of these windows don’t reopen. The compilation deadline is in three weeks. If we’re doing this, we need to start immediately. No more delays."

"Then we start immediately." Dayo leaned forward, the old energy returning, but different now. Still focused, still driven, but without the desperate edge that used to accompany every decision. "Sharon, pull the schedule together. I want every project that’s pending on my desk by end of day. Rick, Gwen, whatever you need from me for the compilation, you have it starting tomorrow. Jinad, Akin, I know you’ve been waiting. We’ll set up sessions this week."

The room shifted into gear, the familiar machinery of ambition and creativity clicking back into place. But as Dayo spoke, as he mapped out the weeks ahead with the precision his team expected, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

He didn’t check it immediately. He finished the point he was making, waited for the acknowledgments around the table, then glanced down while Ulrich was speaking.

A message from Luna.

He opened it under the table, shielding the screen with his palm. A photo of Jennifer, lying on her back on a blanket, her legs kicking in the air, her face scrunched into an expression of fierce concentration. Below it, a caption: She’s trying to roll over. Getting frustrated.

Dayo felt the smile spread across his face before he could stop it. Not the controlled, professional expression he usually maintained in meetings. A real smile, the kind that reached his eyes and softened his entire posture.

He looked up to find Wayne watching him.

"That," Wayne said, pointing at Dayo’s face. "That right there. That’s the glow. That’s the source."

Dayo slipped the phone back into his pocket, the image of his daughter still warm in his mind. "We’re in a meeting, Wayne."

"We are. And you just looked at your phone like it contained the secret to happiness." Wayne leaned back in his chair, grinning. "I’m just saying. Whatever’s on that screen, that’s what’s making you calm. That’s what’s making you smile at nine in the morning. That’s what’s making you suddenly the most pleasant person in this building."

"Wayne," Valerie said, though there was amusement in her voice. "Leave him alone."

"I’m not bothering him. I’m observing. There’s a difference."

Ulrich cleared his throat, redirecting the conversation back to the matter at hand. "The compilation. If we’re moving forward, we need to confirm the tracklist by Friday."

Dayo nodded, pulling his focus back to the table. "We’ll confirm it. Set up a listening session for Thursday. Everyone brings their best three tracks. We decide together."

The meeting continued, flowing through logistics and timelines and creative decisions with the efficiency that had always defined their work. But throughout it all, Dayo felt the phone in his pocket like a tether. A connection to something outside this room, outside the ambition and the strategy, that grounded him in a way nothing else ever had.

When the meeting finally broke, two hours later, Sharon caught him by the door.

"You handled that well," she said quietly.

"I missed a lot. I know that."

"You did. But you’re not panicking. The old you would have been trying to fix everything today. Burning yourself out to make up for lost time." She studied his face. "You’re different now."

"I have something to come home to," Dayo said. "Something that matters more than any of this. That changes how you approach everything."

Sharon nodded, understanding without needing explanation. "Go. I’ll handle the rest of today. Set up the Thursday session, confirm the deadlines, keep things moving."

"I should stay. There’s more to go through."

"There is. But you’ll be more useful to us tomorrow if you take a few hours now." She tilted her head toward the door. "Go see them."

Dayo didn’t argue. He gathered his things and left the conference room, walking through the office with a stride that carried none of the frantic energy that usually followed these meetings. He passed Alice’s office, and she looked up from her desk. Their eyes met, and he nodded at her, a gesture of professional courtesy and nothing more. She nodded back, and there was no sign of the flicker he had seen earlier. Just two people who worked together, sharing a moment of mutual acknowledgment before moving on.

He walked out of the building into the afternoon light, the city unfolding around him with its usual chaos and noise. The car was waiting, and he gave the driver Luna’s address without hesitation.

As they moved through traffic, Dayo leaned back against the seat and let his mind drift to the image on his phone. Jennifer, frustrated and determined, trying to roll over. He thought about what it would look like when he walked in, whether she would reach for him the way she had been doing, whether Luna would be in the kitchen with his mother, learning something new about motherhood from someone who had done it four times.

He thought about the conversation he would have with Luna tonight. Not the big one, not yet. But the small ones that were building toward it. The daily check-ins, the shared observations about their daughter, the slow rebuilding of trust through accumulated moments of presence.

The car turned onto Luna’s street, and Dayo felt the calm that had been with him all day settle deeper. The glow Wayne had teased him about, the peace that Valerie and Ulrich had noticed—it wasn’t a mystery to him. He knew exactly where it came from.

It came from walking into a room and being chosen by a small person who reached for him without reservation. It came from watching the woman he loved learn to trust him again, one day at a time. It came from the family that was forming around him, not perfectly, not without complications, but real and warm and his.

The car stopped. Dayo stepped out and walked toward the door, ready to be exactly where he needed to be.