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She made a brief, ice-cold phone call.
Within thirty minutes, Luna's mother was transferred to another facility。
Rumor has it she left looking like she’d been through labor all over again.
Her departure brought no relief, only renewed determination.
I felt like I could outcompete my tiny toes into dust.
Matriarch Sterling still visited daily, but we were essentially strangers.
Once my mother left the recovery center, Matriarch Sterling's visits would inevitably cease.
I needed another connection to the Sterlings before then.
I briefly considered revealing my true identity but quickly dropped the idea.
Luna's mother was still very much alive.
In my past life, her schemes paved the way for Luna to become the beloved fake heiress.
From refusing epidurals to trying to poison me—she was clearly ambitious and ruthless.
With a clueless mom and no power, entering the Sterling mansion now would be suicide.
Time was short.
The mission was critical.
I looked at my mother, happily scrolling TikTok beside me.
Disgusted, I gathered all my strength: "Pi... pi-a... no!"
My mother, "Huh? Sweetie, you want peas? Or piano?"
She kissed my cheek loudly.
I strained, "PIANO! WANT PIANO!"
I swear it came out clear.
My mother, "Piano? You want to play piano? Okay, sweetie, Mommy will find a toy piano!"
She grabbed a little electronic keyboard nearby.
I clutched the toy piano tight and practiced the melodies I'd memorized in the womb all day long.
The next day, right before Matriarch Sterling's arrival, I pretended to randomly press keys.
The moment she stepped in, Matriarch Sterling gasped, "Was that Jasmine?! Goodness, this child is a musical prodigy!"
My mother blinked, confused.
"She’s just mashing the keys. How is that prodigy-level?"
Matriarch Sterling shot her a look. "Nonsense! That was Stravinsky's 'Petrushka'! One of the most technically complex pieces ever written! I see... it must be from when my daughter called—she was playing it in the background!"
To test her theory, Matriarch Sterling played another classical piece on her phone.
"Sweetheart, can you play that for Grammy? Can you play it again?"
I wasn't a born prodigy. But I was stubborn.
Matriarch Sterling's youngest daughter, my biological aunt Lydia Sterling, loved piano but lacked innate genius.
She later opened a prestigious music academy and spent her life training real talent.
In my past life, to impress Aunt Lydia, I practiced until my fingers bled and I dreamed in scales.
I wasn't without talent—with persistence, I could have been a respected pianist.
But then, Luna's protagonist halo switched on.
Before I joined the Sterlings, Luna had never touched a piano.
Yet, purely to show me up, the author absurdly wrote that Luna, upon her first touch, flawlessly performed 'Petrushka'—a piece requiring decades of mastery.
Faced with such plot armor, my aunt Lydia, the expert, instantly became Luna's biggest fan.
She dropped me and said only Luna "deserved her tutelage."
Of course, after that scene, Luna never touched a piano again—the author forgot all about it.
