None of the three looked up this time.
Emily Blair’s expression remained calm as she walked past the two, her gaze fixed on the door leading to the performance hall.
The waiting room entrance sat right next to that door, so when Emily glanced up, she caught sight of another elegant woman stepping inside.
The woman’s steps were hurried, her voice a hushed warning: “Careful, don’t rush ahead.”
Emily paused, meeting the woman’s eyes.
It was Diana Harris—Andrew Lane’s mother.
Emily watched as Diana’s gentle, troubled expression sharpened in an instant, her beautiful eyes now cold and disdainful, sweeping Emily up and down with thinly veiled contempt.
“Ms. Blair. It’s been a while.”
Emily’s voice was steady. “It has indeed.”
Diana let out a cold, derisive laugh, folding her arms and giving Emily a frosty look. “Ms. Blair, if I recall, back when you lived with the Lane family, your clothes never cost less than a thousand dollars. What’s happened since you left? Life treating you so poorly that you’re wearing flea market rags now?”
Every contestant in the Starlight Piano Competition dressed to impress on performance day. The men wore dark suits, the women dazzling gowns with flawless makeup and carefully styled hair.
Except for Emily Blair. No matter the day, she showed up in a plain T-shirt and jeans, face bare, her long black hair pulled into a simple high ponytail.
Standing among the polished contestants, Emily looked every bit the ugly duckling—completely out of place.
The atmosphere in the waiting room turned oddly tense, Diana Harris’s voice ringing out for everyone to hear.
Immediately, several people glanced over at Emily, their expressions curious and tinged with something else.
Diana wasn’t wrong—anyone could see Emily’s clothes were cheap. In anyone else, it might have reeked of desperation, just another face in the crowd.
But Emily carried herself with a quiet, icy grace, as clear and fresh as spring water. Even a bargain T-shirt couldn’t hide it. Add in that luminous face, and she looked every inch the beautiful, fragile heroine from a coming-of-age drama—delicate, striking, impossible to ignore.
Diana was referring to the online rumors, the accusations that Emily had pulled strings to advance in the competition.
Emily almost laughed.
Did Diana really think she’d be rattled by gossip or other people’s petty words?
How ridiculous.
She smiled slightly. “We’ll see soon enough, won’t we? If my place isn’t secure, you’ll find out. But if your words come back to haunt you, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Emily Blair.”
“Emily, please, don’t say that.”
Two voices rang out at once—one deep and commanding, chilling even in broad daylight, the other soft and anxious, full of concern.

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