Chapter 250
That’s why Alarieka’s public accusation during the anniversary celebration had blindsided her completely. She still didn’t know when Alarieka and Lindsey had even met.
Roschelle Whitaker clenched her fists, her face maintaining perfect composure while a faint smile curved her lips. The more critical the moment, the steadier she must remain. Only composure could secure victory and thwart Alarieka Huston’s schemes.
Roschelle Whitaker’s gaze remained fixed on the stage until it abruptly halted at one shadowed corner. Her eyes paused, a dark glint flashing before she slowly lowered her head.
“What’s wrong?”
Kieran Argent suddenly leaned close, his deep voice murmuring softly by her ear. Roschelle Whitaker’s heart skipped. She lifted her eyes slowly, smiling gently. “It’s nothing, don’t worry.”
Kieran Argent’s obsidian eyes deepened in the dim auditorium, his beauty almost surreal. Roschelle Whitaker flushed, pulse quickening. “Why are you staring at me?”
Kieran said, “Alarieka Huston’s piano piece–I recall it conflicts with yours.”
Roschelle Whitaker froze. If memory served, Kieran had only heard Alarieka perform it once during the school festival. Moreover, the two pieces were strikingly similar. Most non-musicians couldn’t distinguish them, yet Kieran remembered.
As if reading her mind, Kieran whispered, “I remember everything about you.”
Roschelle Whitaker stared at Kieran, heart pounding wildly. Unable to resist, she looped her arm through his, murmuring, “It’s fine. I can handle this.”
“Alright,” Kieran said. “But if you can’t, come to me. I’m right here.”
Roschelle Whitaker’s heart melted as she gazed at him with utter reliance. “Okay. I know.”
The piano piece neared its end. Roschelle Whitaker turned toward the stage, her expression turning detached. With this man beside her, Roschelle Whitaker felt fearless.
Alarieka Huston ended the sonata with several crisp notes. As her hands lifted from the keys, she shot a pointed glance at backstage staff. A crew member flashed an OK sign.
Alarieka rose from the bench, instantly locking eyes on the center front-row seat. Roschelle Whitaker.
Roschelle Whitaker offered a carefree smile.
Alarieka smiled back and seized the microphone. Simultaneously, the giant screen behind her lit up with her prepped footage.
Alarieka declared into the mic: “You surely noticed–I didn’t play ‘Love’s Affection‘ but ‘Yearning Sonata‘ by Lindsey Weaver.”
The audience erupted. Roschelle Whitaker’s fans shot up in rage, some charging toward the stage. Security swiftly intervened. Alarieka watched coldly.
Paloma Wyatt grabbed a mic: “Alarieka Huston, cease irrelevant actions.”
Alarieka remained calm. “Ms. Wyatt, judges, and audience–before questioning me, kindly watch the video.”
Her light, crisp voice echoed through the mic and speakers, filling the venue. Though pleasant to the ear, it struck Roschelle Whitaker as sinister and eerie.
Baffled, the crowd turned toward the large screen behind her.
The video’s initial footage was poor–out of focus, with shuffling noises as the camera moved. Only a blurred outline of an open window and a long-skirted woman seated by a piano near it was visible. The shaky opening frames struggled to focus, obscuring the woman’s face.
Despite the fuzziness, everyone recognized the video’s age from its inferior quality compared to modern standards.
After a few seconds, the image cleared.
A sparse piano room came into view, featuring an obviously cheap piano and a woman with delicate, serene features. She wore an ordinary floral dress, her hair half-tied, head slightly bowed, with loose strands framing her face.
“Ready, Teacher.”
A youthful, innocent voice sounded in the video. The woman on screen didn’t speak–likely the cameraperson’s words. Hearing it, most in the performance hall found the voice vaguely familiar.
As the crowd pondered, the voice spoke again: “Quickly now! Don’t be shy, Teacher. Such beautiful music deserves recording.”
Gradually, all eyes shifted to Alarieka Huston. Sudden understanding dawned.