The studio smelled faintly of varnish and old carpet. The bright lights reflected off the polished floor, making Evelyn feel like she had stepped into another world.
She gripped her sheet music, took a deep breath, and reminded herself: This is for me. Not for anyone else.
"Next!" called the assistant, eyes scanning the clipboard.
Evelyn stepped forward, her legs trembling. As she set her bag down, she spotted a familiar figure near the back—Ronan, giving her a thumbs-up. Her heart skipped. Thank God he's here.
She approached the microphone, adjusting it carefully. Then she looked up—and froze.
In the corner of the room, partially hidden behind a pillar, a man in a sleek black suit observed her. His eyes were sharp, calculating, but… they softened when they landed on her.
Evelyn had no idea that Adrian had come, disguised as a consultant, ensuring the audition panel would see her real talent without bias.
"Begin when ready," the assistant said.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let her voice flow.
The first note quivered, uncertain—but then, like a river breaking through a dam, her confidence surged. Her melody filled the room, echoing off the walls. Every judge leaned forward, some mouths slightly open in surprise.
Even the hidden Adrian felt his chest tighten. She's… perfect.
Halfway through, Evelyn's foot slipped slightly on the polished floor. She gasped—but instinctively, she adjusted, turning the near-fall into a graceful pivot. The panel murmured in admiration.
When the last note faded, silence followed for a heartbeat. Then… applause.
It wasn't just polite clapping—it was stunned, genuine admiration. Evelyn's cheeks flushed, and she stumbled backward slightly, overwhelmed.
From his corner, Adrian allowed himself a rare smile. She doesn't even know I'm here. She's mine… and she has no idea.
Ronan jogged forward, eyes shining. "Eve! That was amazing! You killed it!"
Evelyn smiled weakly, brushing her hair back. "Thanks… I just tried to… be me."
But outside, Lady Eronis' eyes narrowed as she watched from the window across the street. She's dangerous. Too dangerous. I won't let this girl take him away…
The applause lingered, echoing in Evelyn's ears. She could feel her cheeks burning hot, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade. She had done it—her voice had carried the story, the emotion, every ounce of herself.
Ronan rushed forward, nearly tripping over his own feet. "Eve, that was… unbelievable! I mean it. Every single note!"
Evelyn smiled weakly, still catching her breath. "I… I just tried to… be me," she murmured, her voice trembling with relief.
From the corner, Adrian observed every detail. He didn't just see her talent—he saw her courage. The way she had turned that near-fall into grace. The way her expression had transformed mid-song. She's strong. Braver than she realizes.
He tapped his fingers lightly on the desk, almost as if composing her notes into his mind. He couldn't reveal himself, not yet. Letting her know he was there would destroy the authenticity of this moment.
Finally, the panel gathered around, giving her constructive feedback. "Impressive control," one judge said. "Your vibrato is delicate but confident."
Evelyn nodded, blinking rapidly, still flushed with adrenaline. She hadn't expected this. Every ounce of anxiety she'd carried in her chest melted just a little.
Then her phone buzzed. A message from Silver Wolf:
> You were perfect. No one could have done better.
Her lips curved into a small, incredulous smile. Always at the right time…
Meanwhile, across the city, Lady Eronis watched from her balcony, a glass of wine in hand. Her green eyes narrowed, lips curling into a cold smile.
"She's good," she whispered. "Too good. And she's already catching his attention. I won't let her overshadow me."
In that instant, the quiet, golden night seemed to tighten, as if the threads of fate themselves were pulling tighter around Evelyn, Adrian, and Eronis.
Evelyn left the studio later that evening, heart still racing, unaware that every step she took was being watched—not just by Ronan, not just by admirers, but by someone who cared more than she could imagine… and someone who hated what she represented.