Elizabeth clapped her hands together. "I've got it! This is what they call wise beyond your years—your soul is just so-"

Emily looked up and burst out laughing. "What are you doing? You sound so serious all of a sudden."

Elizabeth started to say something else, but Emily waved her off. "Alright, enough. Class is about to start. Don't be such a chatterbox."

Even though the rumors had been put to rest, there was no way the barbecue stand's business wouldn't take a hit-it was inevitable. Still, customers continued to show up in droves, and Elizabeth was satisfied with how things turned out.

A week before the Starlight Piano Competition, the organizers released the list of contestants. Emily's name was at the very end, tucked away in the last row.

Elizabeth understood just how much this competition meant to Emily. She'd told her to skip helping out at the stand unless it was absolutely necessary to focus on preparing for the big day.

Once the contestant list went public, online discussions picked up steam. Most of the chatter centered around Isabella Austin's participation.

Whenever Isabella entered a competition, she was the talk of the town. It wasn't just her reputation as a piano prodigy; ever since she'd started competing, she'd never once placed below the top three-and even third place was a rare occurrence.

No sooner had the contestant list been announced than the internet was abuzz with polls and speculation about who would take home the trophy.

It was no contest: Isabella Austin was the overwhelming favorite to win, with votes far outpacing the rest of the field.

Emily scrolled down, finally spotting her name at the bottom. Next to it was a pitifully small number-less than ten votes. Most contestants had at least a few dozen. Her count was utterly dismal in comparison.

Expression unreadable, Emily slipped her phone into her bag. She rested both hands on the piano keys and pressed down, letting the music flow.

A familiar melody filled the small practice room.

Emily closed her eyes.

She knew this piece so well it was practically in her bones; she didn't even have to think. All she had to do was close her eyes, let her fingers find the keys, and the music would emerge.

The tune was bold yet bittersweet, brimming with both compassion and fury.

This was what Vivian Martin's "Desire" was meant to be.

Not the hollow imitation that Isabella Austin had made famous.

When the last note faded, Emily still hadn't opened her eyes—until a voice broke the silence beside her.

"Hey, isn't that Isabella Austin's 'Love'? Sounds just like it."

Emily's eyes snapped open, her gaze laced with irony.

How could it possibly be the same?

She bit back her retort. She'd learned her lesson the hard way: once, she'd tried to expose Isabella Austin for plagiarism. It had gone nowhere, and she'd paid for it dearly.

Emily didn't respond. She quietly packed away her things.

The piano in this studio was exquisite excellent tone, good value for the price-but the catch was that it was shared with other students.

Because she usually came late, after a day full of classes, Emily's practice slot was always in the evening. Most nights, she didn't leave until well after midnight.

A girl approached, stopping directly in front of Emily and radiating open hostility.

"Emily Blair, I heard you're entering the Starlight Piano Competition too?"

Emily zipped up her backpack and swung it over her shoulder. She looked up, her eyes clear and direct. "That's right. What of it?"

The girl was Delilah Robinson, niece of the studio's owner.

From the moment Emily had joined, Delilah had made her dislike known-always picking fights, playing petty tricks that never really hurt, then laughing at her own cleverness.

Physically, Emily was only two years older than Delilah. Mentally, though, she felt decades ahead.

So Delilah's little games never bothered her. She'd just ignore them and move on. But Delilah seemed determined to push her luck.

With a sneer, Delilah said, "We all play piano here. Gossip travels fast."

She gave Emily a mocking look. "I remember you tried to use that piece to prove Isabella Austin was plagiarizing, didn't you? Turns out Isabella composed it too, right?"

She let out a nasty laugh. “Talk about a slap in the face. Can't believe you still haven't given up. Planning to embarrass yourself at the competition with that same song?"