They had just recorded the title track. Metamorphosis.

And that was the real metamorphosis. Not the album. Not the platinum certification. It was the moment a seventeen-year-old girl looked at the machinery that built her and said, “I’m the one holding the tools now.” The butterfly didn't just break out of the cocoon. She looked back at the empty shell and said, "Thanks for the ride," then flew in a direction no one had mapped for her.

She pulled off the headphones. The studio suddenly felt very quiet.

“You’re gonna see me in a different light…”

Her manager, Jerry, leaned into the booth’s talkback mic. "Hil, the label loves the album, but they want one more 'Lizzie' track. Something bouncy. Safe."