7
681words
"Chloe, darling! Here, let me introduce you! This is Sebastian Fairchild, heir to Fairchild Holdings. This is Oliver Vance from Vance Industries. This is Grayson Thorne, the youngest Thorne..."
Entering the grand ballroom, seeing Sylvia Sterling's guest list—a veritable who's who of Seabreeze's eligible wealthy sons—and witnessing my mother's predatory, green-eyed stare, confirmed my worst fears. Sylvia had leveled up. She knew exactly how to bait my mother. Money? Resistible. Wealthy heirs? Irresistible.
Within minutes, my mother forgot the poison, trailing Sylvia like an eager puppy to meet "the prospects."
Seeing I couldn't stop her, I gritted my tiny teeth and headed for Matriarch Sterling, only to be intercepted.
"Well, if it isn't the little prodigy, Jasmine Summers! Heard you were calling people before ten days old, playing piano before a month? By that logic, you must be fluent in several languages by now, and your piano skills... surely advanced? Since Matriarch Sterling, your greatest admirer, is here today, why not grace us with a performance? Show off for your 'Grammy'?"
The speaker was Luna's father, Hugo Sterling, the Sterling Patriarch's foster son. In my past life, as Luna's rival, Hugo naturally despised me. His malicious glint was no surprise. Thiswas the real reason behind the joint party: build me up as a prodigy, set me up for a fall, then unveil Luna to steal the spotlight. With Luna's protagonist halo, this tactic always worked.
I looked up, smiling sweetly. "Today isn't just mybirthday party, Uncle Hugo, it's Luna's too. You're herdaddy. Why ask meto perform?" I feigned shock. "Is it... because Luna still can't speak any foreign languages?"
"..."
"Or play piano?"
"..."
"Drawing? Chess? Dancing? Surely she can do something?"
"..."
As whispers spread among the guests, Hugo's face flushed. "Luna certainly can. But Jasmine, you're the elder. You should go first. After your performance, Luna will naturally showcase her talents." I glanced towards the Sterling family table. Matriarch Sterling and Aunt Lydia nodded encouragingly. Resistance was futile. What kind of first birthday required a performance? Sighing internally, I climbed onto the stage and sat at the miniature grand piano. My infant hands couldn't achieve technical perfection, so I chose a festive, simpler piece.
The final note faded. Silence, then applause.
"A one-year-old playing piano? Is she truly a prodigy?!"
Hugo's expression soured; he hadn't expected competence. But he quickly smiled again. Sylvia was leading Luna out. A year older, Luna looked healthier but still frail. Seeing me, she walked over, voice weak but defiant. "Jasmine... long time no see."
I smiled brightly. "It has been! Last time we met, you were still wetting the bed. Glad to see you're walking now!"
Luna, despite parental pressure, was still a toddler. Accused of bedwetting, she floundered, lip trembling, eyes welling up. Sylvia squeezed her shoulder. "Luna, focus. Play that piece... the one you played for Daddy and me."
Luna rallied under the expectant gaze. She sat... and froze on the first note. The melody had vanished! "Luna! What are you doing? Play!" Hugo urged.
"Forgot the score? No matter! Play from the sheet!" Sylvia insisted.
The pressure mounted. Luna couldn't decipher the sheet music! But last time... last time her fingers just knew! Why couldn't she now? "LUNA! PLAY! NOW! Or do you want to LOSE to JASMINE?!" Hugo hissed.
Lose? I can't lose to Jasmine! I MUST beat her! She's just my foil!These extreme, alien thoughts surged. Suddenly, Luna felt her body move independently, her hands placed on the keys by an unseen force—
"Twinkle, twinkle, little star..."
The halting, childish notes silenced the room. When the "performance" ended, and Luna regained control, murmurs broke out.
"Was that... 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star'? Well... it's... nice."
"For a one-year-old, just knowing notes is impressive. Not everyone can be a prodigy like that Summers girl."
The phrase "not everyone can be a prodigy like Jasmine" snapped Hugo and Sylvia back to reality. Their eyes held murderous rage, but they forced smiles. "Luna was just warming up! Now, darling, play that piece for everyone... 'Petrushka'," Sylvia commanded.
