Chapter 2

The next morning, the city was shrouded in a cold, gray mist. It matched the new landscape of my soul.

I found Professor Eleanor Vance in her usual haunt, a dusty, sun-drenched studio at the conservatory, filled with the ghosts of music past. She was a small woman with eyes that held the wisdom of a thousand symphonies. She had been my mentor, my champion, my second mother.

She looked up from the sheet music she was correcting, her face breaking into a warm smile when she saw me.

"Ollie! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

I didn't smile back. I walked over to her desk and placed my hands on it, the prosthetic making a soft thud against the wood.

"Eleanor, I need you to do something for me," I said, my voice flat and devoid of the warmth she was used to. "I' m not performing as a guest at the Golden Rose."

Her smile faltered. "Oh? Did you change your mind? Is it too much, dear? There's no shame in that."

"No," I said, meeting her gaze directly. "I' m entering as a competitor."

The color drained from her face. She took off her glasses and polished them with a cloth, a nervous habit I knew well.

"Olivia, be serious. You can't."

"Why not?"

"Why not?" she repeated, her voice rising with disbelief. "Because it's insane! The panel, the critics... they'll tear you apart. They' ll call it a publicity stunt. They'll say you're trading on pity."

"Let them."

"Sarah Jenkins is the frontrunner," she continued, her voice pleading. "She's David's protégée. The entire industry is behind her. You'll be humiliated."

"I don't care."

"Your legacy, Ollie! You were a legend. You retired at the top. Why risk tarnishing that memory with... with this?" She gestured vaguely at my prosthetic. "They will see a cripple trying to relive her glory days."

Her words were meant to protect me, but they only fueled the fire in my gut.

"My legacy is the only thing I have left," I said, my voice dangerously quiet. "And I will define what it is. Not them. Not David."

I told her about the awards' bylaws, a loophole I' d found late last night while David slept soundly beside me. A former winner retained the right to compete in any future competition without going through the preliminary rounds. It was an old, ceremonial rule no one had ever used.

Until now.

Eleanor stared at me, her eyes searching my face. She saw something there she hadn't seen in five years. Not just determination, but a chilling, absolute certainty.

"What happened, Ollie?" she asked softly. "What changed?"

I couldn't tell her. Not yet. The truth was a weapon, and I had to choose my moment to fire it.

"I just woke up," I said.

Before she could press further, my phone buzzed. A text from David.

'Thinking of you, my love. Just heard Sarah' s final rehearsal. She' s extraordinary. But you' ll always be my star.'

Bile rose in my throat.

I left Eleanor' s studio and drove, not home, but to the concert hall where the rehearsals were being held. I slipped in through a side door, hiding in the shadows of the upper balcony.

Down below, the stage was lit. Sarah was at the grand piano, her fingers flying across the keys. David stood in the wings, watching her with an expression of pure, unadulterated adoration. It was a look he had once reserved for me.

When she finished, the small group of technicians and staff applauded. David walked onto the stage and took her hands in his.

"Flawless," he murmured, his voice carrying in the empty hall. "Absolutely flawless, my love."

He thought they were alone.

He leaned in and kissed her, a long, passionate kiss that spoke of years of shared secrets and stolen moments.

My vision tunneled. The gilded cage, the public worship, the five years of lies-it all crashed down on me again.

Then, Sarah pulled back, a slight frown on her pretty face. "What about Olivia's performance? What if people... compare us?"

David laughed, a sound that was both dismissive and cruel.

"Darling, don't worry about that," he said, stroking her cheek. "Her little comeback is just a feel-good story for the papers. A sad, broken thing. It will only make your victory seem more brilliant in comparison."

He adjusted her hair. "Once this is over, we won't have to pretend anymore. We can finally convince her to retire for good. Sell her piano. Let her focus on her true purpose: being my devoted wife."

A sad, broken thing.

That was all I was to him. A prop. A stepping stone.

I stumbled out of the concert hall, gasping for air. I drove home in a blind haze of fury and grief.

When I walked into our penthouse, the first thing I saw was the music box on the mantelpiece. It was an antique, a gift from David on our first anniversary. It played the melody from the first piece I had ever performed for him.

For five years, it had been a symbol of our love, our survival.

Now, it was a monument to his betrayal.

My real hand clenched into a fist. I walked over to the mantelpiece, my movements stiff and robotic.

I picked up the music box.

I raised it high above my head.

And I smashed it against the marble fireplace.

The delicate wood splintered. The tiny metal gears and cylinders flew across the room. The music died with a final, discordant clang.

I sank to my knees amidst the wreckage, a raw, guttural sob tearing from my throat. The sound was ugly, animalistic. It was the sound of a heart breaking not with sadness, but with pure, unadulterated rage.

The front door opened.

"Ollie? What was that noise? Are you alright?"

David' s voice, thick with false concern.

He walked into the living room and saw me on the floor, surrounded by the debris of his lie. His eyes widened in feigned shock.

"My God, the music box! What happened?"

He knelt beside me, reaching out to touch my shoulder.

"Don't," I choked out, flinching away from him.

"Honey, you're trembling," he cooed, his voice a soft, poisonous balm. "It's just the stress of the performance. It's okay. It was just a thing. We can get another one."

He tried to pull me into an embrace, to comfort the woman he had just systematically destroyed.

I let him.

I let him hold me while I silently vowed to make him pay for every single piece of my shattered life.

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