Empire's boy

Chapter 4: The Weight of a Name

The ride back from Inferno was tense. Elias sat in the back of Cookie's car, his mind racing despite the victory. He had won the battle—made the crowd feel something real. But this wasn't just about proving himself in one night. This was about his future, about whether Lucious Lyon would ever see him as more than an outsider.

Cookie glanced at him through the rearview mirror. "You did good, baby. Real good. But one battle don't make you a king. You ready for what comes next?"

Elias didn't hesitate. "Always."

She smirked. "That's what I like to hear."

The car pulled up to Empire Entertainment's headquarters, and Elias followed Cookie inside. The building was quieter at night, but the energy never truly faded. Music pulsed from different rooms, artists and producers grinding even in the late hours. This was the heart of the empire, and Elias was finally stepping inside it.

As they entered Lucious's office, he was already waiting, sipping a glass of whiskey like he had all the time in the world.

"So," Lucious said, setting the glass down. "You had your little moment. But one performance don't mean you belong here."

Elias met his gaze without flinching. "Then let me prove it."

Lucious chuckled, shaking his head. "That's exactly what you're gonna do."

He grabbed a remote and pressed play. The speakers in the room filled with an unmistakable beat—the opening drums of 'm.A.A.d city.'

Elias's heart pounded. He knew this track inside and out. Knew how every bar hit like a bullet.

Lucious leaned forward. "Empire needs fresh blood. If you wanna make it here, you gotta bring heat. This your test—step in the booth, lay this down. Show me you got the voice, the control, the fire."

Elias didn't need any more invitation. He followed Cookie to the recording studio, where an engineer was already waiting, headphones and mic set up.

He stepped into the booth, took a deep breath, and let the beat take over. When he started, his voice was sharp, commanding:

"If Pirus and Crips all got along, they'd probably gun me down by the end of this song…"

The words spilled out with raw energy, his delivery precise, his voice carrying the weight of every struggle he had ever faced. He wasn't just rapping—he was painting a picture of a world that felt all too familiar to him, even if this version of it had never known Kendrick Lamar.

Outside the booth, Cookie nodded along, impressed. The engineer exchanged a glance with Lucious, who sat completely still, unreadable.

By the time Elias finished the last verse, the silence in the studio was thick. He stepped out of the booth, breathing heavy, adrenaline still coursing through him.

Lucious studied him for a long moment before speaking. "You got talent. No doubt about that. But talent don't mean shit if you can't survive this industry."

Elias clenched his fists. "I didn't come here to survive. I came here to take over."

Lucious smirked. "Then let's see if you're really built for this."

Cookie grinned, patting Elias on the back. "Welcome to the real game, baby."

---

The First Test

Lucious wasn't about to hand Elias anything. The next morning, before the sun even fully rose, a text lit up Elias's phone.

Be at the studio. 6 AM sharp. No excuses.

When Elias arrived, the place was already alive. Producers, writers, and artists moved like a well-oiled machine. Lucious was there, leaning against the console, a smirk playing on his lips. "You're late."

Elias frowned. "It's 5:59."

"In this business, early is on time. On time is late."

Cookie stood off to the side, arms crossed. She had seen Lucious test plenty of artists before, but something about this was different. This was his son, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

"Alright," Lucious continued. "If you think you got what it takes, you're gonna write and record a verse—now. You got one hour. And it better be fire."

Elias grabbed his notebook without hesitation. The beat started playing—a hard-hitting, ominous instrumental. He recognized it immediately. 'Backseat Freestyle.'

He let the beat sink into his bones, his pen moving rapidly across the page. He wasn't just trying to impress—he was trying to make them feel something.

When his time was up, he stepped back into the booth, rolled his shoulders, and let loose:

"Martin had a dream / Martin had a dream / Kendrick had a dream…"

The moment he rapped the first line, Lucious's expression shifted, the amusement in his eyes replaced with something more serious. Elias's flow was sharp, relentless. Every word hit like a punch, every rhyme calculated but natural. He wasn't trying to be Kendrick—he was making the words his own, spitting them like they had been carved from his own story.

The room was silent when he finished. Even the engineer looked impressed.

Lucious was the first to break the silence. "Not bad."

Cookie scoffed. "Boy, stop playing. That was fire."

Elias wiped sweat from his brow, heart pounding. He had given them everything. Now, he just had to wait and see if it was enough.

Lucious stood, pacing slowly before turning back to Elias. "You're raw. You got talent. But this game ain't just about skill—it's about knowing who you are and where you stand. So tell me—who the hell are you?"

Elias met his father's eyes, voice steady. "I'm Elias Cole. And I'm about to change everything."