----
As Maria lifted the violin to her chin, the room fell into a reverent silence. The first note floated gently through the air—soft and haunting, like a whisper in the wind. Her bow moved slowly, gracefully, drawing the audience in with each delicate stroke. Time seemed to pause. Every breath, every heartbeat in the room synchronized with the lingering notes that danced in the air.
Then, without warning, her tempo quickened—swift, precise, electric. It wasn't just music anymore; it was a spell, a force that seized the room by the soul. Eyes widened. Spines straightened. The very air seemed to tighten around them, daring them to move, to even blink.
And then—the tone shifted.
A deep, sorrowful cry emerged from the strings, raw and aching. It was the sound of a soul breaking, of a heart remembering every unspoken grief. The audience didn't notice when their eyes began to sting or when their cheeks turned wet. Her music didn't just play sadness—it translated it, painted it in sound, etched it into every heart present.
Just when it felt unbearable, the tempo surged again. Fierce. Spirited. Hopeful. The notes climbed, soaring into the air like wings unfolding, lifting the audience with them. They gasped—not just from the sudden change, but from the overwhelming realization that they were no longer mere spectators. They were part of the story now. She was telling it through them, through every shiver, every tear, every breath held and finally released.
By the time the final note trembled into silence, it wasn't applause that followed—it was stunned stillness. Minutes passed before anyone reacted. Then the clapping began, hesitant at first, until the spell broke and the room erupted into thunderous applause.
The livestream went into a frenzy as people flooded the comments:
[Wow]
[Come out! Where are Tessa's fans now? If your face doesn't hurt, it should!]
[This is the definition of "I won't speak, but I'll speak with my talent." Who called her a pretty face? Come out, let me hear you!]
[This is hilarious—look at Tessa's face!]
[This is the violin goddess! I remember her—the one who posted that surprise piece. Who dared call her just a pretty vase?]
[Tsk. This show just got interesting. I already know who I'm voting for.]
Maria bowed gracefully, then returned to her seat. The host stepped onto the stage, a bright smile on their face.
"That was beautiful and breathtaking! This shows this generation have talent all the participant performances so good,We're going for a quick two-minute break—enough time for the fans to vote for who they think deserve the first spot . After that, I'm sorry to say, five out of our fifty-five participants will be going home," the host announced.
Tessa glared at Maria. If looks could kill, Maria would've dropped dead on the spot.
After the break, the host returned to the stage.
"The moment we've all been waiting for—but before we announce the winner, let's see who's going home," the host said, making the participants hold their breath.
"Ria, please come to the stage," they called. The girl stepped forward, her eyes red from holding back tears.
"I'm sorry, Ria, but you are out," the host said gently. Ria nodded quietly and walked off the stage.
[Poor girl.]
[Well, this is a competition. If you can't perform, you go.]
Four more names were called. Some girls cried; others accepted it with a nod.
"Now, the moment you've been waiting for—and I bet you already know—the winner is… Maria!" the host announced.
Applause erupted among the participants.
"Well, that's the end of today's episode! Stay tuned, and remember—let the talented win!" the host said as the livestream ended.
Maria got up to leave, but her path was blocked by three girls. Tessa stood at the front, her expression twisted with contempt.
"Well, well, well," Tessa sneered. "You must be thrilled, right? You won. But let me tell you—this was just luck. Next time won't be so easy. This is a singing competition, and you showed off with a violin the only thing you know. Let's see you try that in the next episode. Don't get it into your head that you're talented. I'm better than you."
Her head tilted upward with smug pride, waiting for Maria to look disappointed.
Maria tilted her head in return. "Luck? You think I won by luck?" She smiled, a slow, knowing smile. "Ah, so that's what success looks like from the sidelines—it looks like luck. But it's not. It's called talent. I understand, though. When someone doesn't have talent, and they can't win, it's easier to call it luck so countinue to think it is luck if it makes you happy."
Her voice remained calm, her gaze unwavering.
"But don't worry—I'll keep winning. And you'll keep calling it luck. Because it's easier to blame luck than to admit someone else did it better. I get it. It hurts to watch someone rise when you're standing still. But you'll get used to it. I was born to shine. And you? You were born to clap from the sidelines."
She walked past Tessa without another glance.
Tessa's face flushed with rage.
"Very good!" she snarled. "I swear, I'll make it impossible for you to lift your head when I'm around. Mark my words—or my name's not Tessa!"
Maria didn't stop. She didn't even look back. She just raised her hand and gave Tessa the middle finger as she walked away.
Making Tessa's face change color, Maria left without looking back. She walked to a nearby café, ordered a milkshake and a slice of strawberry cake, then settled into her seat, scrolling through her phone. The news was still buzzing about the "Stock God." Though the episode of the talent show would air tomorrow, the video of the masked girl—her—was still trending. Especially the one showing her unfinished gown. It had gained a lot of attention.
As she looked up, she saw Jake—the guy from the convenience store—sitting down in the chair across from her.
"I knew you looked familiar. So, how was your day?" he asked with a smile.
Maria just raised an eyebrow at him.
"I want to be friends I think we will become the best of friends," Jake said.
Maria ignored him and stood up to leave.
"I want to know how you did it," Jake added, resting his chin in his hand.
Maria ignored him again and called the waitress to pay the bill.
Jake continued to watch her, still smiling. "How did you know those stocks were going to take off?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, and I don't care to know," Maria said calmly.
"Tsk. Is this how you talk to your friends? I know you're the one who bought those stocks—even when others said they were going to fail. If you bought stock from one company, I'd call it luck. Two or three? Maybe a coincidence. But you bought shares from twelve companies—and now all twelve are booming. Four of them landed major deals, and the rest are also on the rise. That's not luck, is it? So, what's your secret?" Jake asked, his phoenix eyes studying her face.
Maria looked at him quietly, then turned to leave.
"I didn't mean any harm. I'm your friend, aren't I?" he added casually as she walked out. He watched her through the glass door, tapping his fingers on the table.
" Tsk why oder if you are not going to eat finish it was red a perfect food "
Then he look outside again
" This is going to be Interesting," he mumbled.
---
Back at Home
Maria stepped into her house and immediately had to step back as a vase crashed against the wall where she had just been standing. She looked up and saw her mother glaring at her.
"Where have you been since this afternoon? You didn't go to school, and you didn't tell us about the school incident! you think you can handle it yourself you make it worse If Oliver hadn't helped, I wonder—"
Her mother stopped mid-sentence as Maria walked past her toward the stairs.
Maria paused halfway up and glanced over her shoulder. "Even if I told you, would you have helped? Ask yourself that," she said quietly, then went to her room and locked the door.
She took a shower, then sat at her desk as her laptop pinged with a notification. It was a message from the anonymous guy—the one who'd threatened her if the stock advice failed. She sighed and opened it. He was still messaging.
Anonymous: sup
Anonymous: I know you can see my messages
Anonymous: Don't ignore me, it'll hurt my feelings. I'm here to thank you, after all.
Maria sighed as she looked at the puppy emoji and typed a reply.
Maria: What do you want?
Anonymous: I want to ask how you knew the stock was going to rise. Hmm? I promise to keep it a secret.
Maria: Why should I tell you? I don't even know you. And stop messaging me. How did you get my number?
Anonymous: It was easy, actually. Funny how you try to hide your information—very cute. But still, you don't know me? That hurts my heart. We just met this afternoon. My poor heart.
Maria stared at the message, then typed:
Maria: Are you Jake?
Anonymous: Yes! Your friend. In fact, besties!
Maria blocked him immediately.
Jake stared at his screen for a long moment, then chuckled to himself. He shut his laptop and walked to the window, staring calmly at the glowing city lights.
---
Back to Maria
"Idiot," Maria muttered, then put on her face mask and began recording. She brought out the half-finished gown.
The sketch had been born in a single breath, but the gown took hours—each moment stitched with quiet determination. Maria worked beneath the warm flicker of her desk lamp, shadows dancing along the walls as evening deepened into night. The gown lay across her worktable like a slumbering star—half-complete, yet already breathtaking.
She had begun with the bodice—an off-the-shoulder design that wrapped around the torso like liquid silk. Midnight blue, with a delicate champagne undertone that glowed even under the softest light. One side had already been finished: clean lines and golden embroidery curled like ivy along the neckline. But it was the other half—the one she returned to now—that would bring it all together.
Her fingers moved with precision, pinning and folding. The fabric responded as though it knew what she needed it to become. She added a hidden row of crystal buttons along the spine—small, subtle, and impossibly elegant.
The skirt she completed in fluid layers: soft pleats cascading from the waist, catching the light with every movement. A thigh-high slit revealed a sheer underlay embroidered with twilight roses, delicate as breath. At the waist, she stitched a narrow belt made from matte satin, giving the gown structure without sacrificing grace.
Then came the final detail: a trailing sleeve on the right arm—detachable, dramatic, and lined with barely-there pearls that shimmered like stars caught in silk.
When she stepped back, her breath caught.
The gown was no longer a dream. It was real. Regal, yet untamed. Meant for candlelit dinners and marble-floor ballrooms… but equally at home beneath city lights and whispered laughter. A masterpiece that could command silence in any room—because it spoke, without words, of the woman who made it.
And for the first time in a long while, Maria smiled—not the polite one she wore around others, but the real one. The one that belonged to the girl who used to dream of beauty... and had just sewn it into reality.
This time, she wasn't going to give her work to others for their benefit. This time, she would shine with her own hands. She wouldn't be blind like her past life—where she wasted her talent and let others ruin her. This time, she would shake the world, step by step. They wouldn't even know when she had climbed to the top.
Maria's gaze hardened. Her fingers ran over the edge of the gown. She would enjoy every step to the top of the hierarchy. She smiled—beautiful, calm, and terrifying behind the mask. She stopped the recording and uploaded the video.
Views? She wasn't worried.
The Mask Girl's fanbase had already passed a million. The video of the unfinished gown was still trending. People were hooked. This dress would only make the fire burn hotter.
She folded the gown with care, removed her mask, and glanced at her phone. Tomorrow, she was going back to school—and she was going to put an end to the rumors. Ivy's fake bestie mask? She was tearing it off.
---
The next day...
Maria got ready and headed out. She skipped breakfast and walked to school, her steps light but firm. As she entered the school grounds, students stared. Some whispered. Some pointed.
She didn't care.
She walked into the class like a storm cloaked in silence. Ivy was sitting with her group, laughing softly. But as soon as she saw Maria walking toward her, her face stiffened.
Maria slammed her hand on Ivy's desk, making her flinch and gasp.
"Maria… why are you here?" Ivy said in a shocked voice, eyes wide.
"Why?" Maria asked, voice calm. "You thought I dropped out? That I ran away in shame? Or that I jumped off a bridge?"
Ivy's lips trembled. "Maria, why would you say something like that? I was worried. I heard the school was planning to expel you… and that thing with the gift…" She lowered her gaze like she was ashamed to even say it. "you give panties to Chris have make the school more determined to…expel you"
Maria leaned closer, her eyes unblinking. "Who sent the gift to Chris?"
"I—What do you mean?" Ivy's voice cracked.
"Who bought the gift ,who resend the gift, who use my name to send the gift?" Maria asked, voice sharp now. "I told you I don't like Chris again z but you did it as you see I'm going against your control how you got disgrace in the art festival"
"Are you accusing me?" Ivy asked, her voice growing louder, eyes glassy with fake tears. "Do you really think I would do something like that? That I would sabotage you?"
"I'm not thinking," Maria said coolly. "I know."
Before Ivy could respond, one of her friends stood up. "Why are you bullying Ivy again? You always blame others when it's your fault. You're the one who gave that gift to Chris. Own up to it!"
Another chimed in. "Just accept that you embarrassed yourself. Now you're trying to drag Ivy down with you."
Voices rose around her. Some students gathered at the door, whispering. Phones were already recording.
Ivy stood up slowly, biting her lip. "Maria… I'll forgive you. Even if you hate me, I'll still be your friend. But don't lie like this. I didn't do anything."
Maria tilted her head, watching her like she was staring at a circus performance.
"You're right," Maria said with a soft laugh. "You didn't do anything. That's your specialty, isn't it? Never doing anything. Just whispering, smiling, pretending. You're not even brave enough to admit the truth."
"You said you'd help me. Then help me now," Maria said, her voice dropping lower. "Admit it I'm giving you away out."
Ivy shook her head, tears finally falling. "If it makes you feel better, I'll take the blame. But at least apologize for accusing me , if you asked nicely I would have taken the blame for you but accusing me of what I didn't I will not accept it this time don't throw away how friendship listen apologize and accept what you did and I will take the blame for you."
Ivy looked at her with that delicate expression, like a flower about to wilt in the storm.
"You want an apology?" Maria repeated, leaning closer.
"Maria…" Ivy whispered, her voice soft, expectant.
For a split second, Ivy thought Maria might apologize.
But then Maria tilted her head and spoke softly—too softly. "You look fake."
Ivy's face went pale.
"Everything about you looks fake. Which is a pity," Maria continued, her voice calm and emotionless, "because having a beautiful face with a dirty, ugly heart… it's such a waste."
The classroom went quiet.
"You want an apology?" Maria scoffed. "Do you even deserve one? I gave you a chance. because I cared—scratch that—I just wanted to see how you'd try to pave a path for your lie. But just as I thought… you took the hard way. Predictable."
Phones came out. Cameras started rolling. The crowd swelled, recording every word.
Then—a cough echoed from the doorway.
The students froze.
The strict homeroom teacher stood there, arms crossed. Beside him, the vice principal, pale and haggard, eyes sunken with dark circles, looked like he hadn't slept in days.
Finally—the vice principal is here.
"She'll be kicked out now," a girl muttered with a hateful glare. "Finally this school will get some fresh air."
"Tsk. So pretty but so stupid," a boy whispered to his friend. "She ruined everything for Chris. She could've chosen literally any other guy. If it were me, I'd have handled a fine girl like that real quick."
Laughter.
The teacher stormed into the room.
"What is going on here?! Maria—again? Are you the reason everyone's out of their seats? Typical. Always causing trouble."
He sneered. "This time, it ends here. The vice principal will finally put you in your place."
Maria rolled her eyes.
"You rolled your eyes at me? You brat! Your parents might have money, but you have no character!"
He leaned closer. "Funny, Oliver ended up with your sister's disgusting attitude. Guess it's genetic."
"Wow…" Neo's voice rang out smoothly as he strolled in, parting the crowd like royalty. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned, revealing a white T-shirt beneath, hands in his pockets. Mike trailed behind, expression unreadable. Matau rubbed her forehead from where she stood in the back, feeling a headache coming.
"Neo!" the teacher snapped, though his tone suddenly dipped. "Is this how you talk to a teacher?"
Maria smirked. "Look at you. All loud until someone powerful walks in. Then your voice turns into a whisper."
Ivy reached out and gently held Maria's hand. "Don't talk to teachers like that…" she whispered Maria slap her hand away.
Maria stared at her for a moment. Then smirked.
"Didn't you say you're my bestie? That you'd do anything for me?" Her voice was low, sweet—tempting, like a devil's whisper to a sinner.
"Take the blame then. Prove it. You said you'd take the fall for me. Be the saint you pretend to be."
Ivy's face went ghost white. She looked around, panic setting in. She stumbled back, clutching her head. One of her friends caught her.
"You've stressed her out!" the friend accused, pointing at Maria. "She's about to faint!"
Maria scoffed. She walked over to a nearby student, snatched a bottle of water from their hand, poured it over Ivy's head, and then—slapped her across the face.
Ivy gasped, wide-eyed.
"Do you still want to faint?" Maria asked calmly.
Ivy was too stunned to speak.
SLAP. The second one was louder, harder. Ivy fell, dragging the friend holding her down as well.
Neo let out a long whistle.
The teacher snapped. "What are you doing?! The audacity to lay hands on your classmate in front of the vice principal—!"
BANG. Neo slammed his palm on a table, making everyone jump.
"Must you yell? Does it make you feel strong?" he sneered. "Clap for Maria! Her classmate wanted to faint, and Maria helped her regain her strength the procedure might be wrong but the results is noticable—see she is not longer weak they gave slapped the weakness out if ger" He pointed at Ivy, who sat on the floor, one cheek red and the other still marked by Maria's handprint. Her eyes brimmed with tears, fists clenched.
The teacher opened his mouth, but Neo ignored him and turned to the vice principal.
"Aren't you going to say anything?" he asked, voice slow and threatening. "You think time's on your side? Tick tock. Tick… tock."
The vice principal visibly trembled. Everyone thought he is going to put Maria in her place and thought neo was urging him to do that but then, to everyone's shock, he stepped forward—
—and knelt down.
Gasps erupted.
Did they change the script or did the vice principal drunk everyone thought as they looked at the vice principal
He kowtowed once. Twice.
"I'm sorry!" he cried. "I hated you. I was a bad person. I wanted revenge. I tried to get you expelled because… because the bribed judge from the art competition was my brother! And because of you—he lost his job! I wanted revenge. I abused my power… I failed you. I'll resign. I'll leave the country. I swear."
Maria stood frozen, stunned. She slowly turned to Neo.
He gave her a casual smile.
Then she looked down at the vice principal. "You almost destroyed my life. Just to get revenge for your brother, who was in the wrong?" she asked coldly. "You want forgiveness? I'm sorry, but I'm not a saint."
The man sobbed harder.
Neo snapped his fingers. The vice principal staggered up, gave Maria a final glance, and left the room. Silence followed—utter silence.
Everyone stared. At Neo. At Maria. At Ivy. No one knew what to say.
Maria stepped forward, crouched before Ivy, and lifted her chin with two fingers.
"I'm tired of your drama," she said quietly. "Tired of your fake bestie act. It ends now."
Here's the final part of your scene, polished for flow, tension, and impact while keeping your original structure and dramatic style:
---
"You say I'm the one who sent the gift… that I resent it again… that you've never been involved in anything?" Maria's voice was calm, dangerously so. "You're the good person here, right?"
Ivy nodded slowly, though her heart was pounding. Something felt off, ominous. But she had no choice now—she had to keep going.
"I did my best to be a good friend," Ivy said, lowering her gaze, voice trembling just enough. "I tried to stop you from going after Chris… told you he wasn't good for you. But you didn't listen. So I supported you—even though I didn't like it."
She sniffled, eyes glistening with emotion.
The crowd looked at her with pity. Some even had tears in their eyes.
Maria nodded, her expression unreadable. "Yes… you're a good friend. So good…" She paused. "That I became envious of you."
The words hung in the air like a slap.
Ivy's eyes widened in shock. The crowd turned to stare at Maria, stunned and confused.
Ivy parted her lips to say something—but Maria raised a finger and pressed it against Ivy's lips, silencing her.
Then she stood.
"I'm a bad friend," Maria announced dramatically. "I didn't listen to Ivy. She gave me advice, lots of it. In fact…"
She turned to the crowd, her eyes glittering with mischief. "She was so thoughtful—I recorded her words. To listen to them again and again."
Maria smiled—a charming, chilling smile—and raised her phone. "I have it all here."
Ivy turned pale.
"Everyone," Maria said sweetly, "record this. It's going to be fun."
She tapped play.
Ivy lunged toward her in panic. "Maria, stop!"
But Maria was faster.
She grabbed Ivy's hair, yanked her back, and leaned in close, whispering, "Let's see you try to keep your image now."
Ivy's friend moved to help—but froze in place.
Because the recording had started playing.
And what it revealed… was going to ruin everything.
---