"I'm sorry, Mrs. Harrington. I was just dusting."
"Do not insult my intelligence." Victoria cuts her off. "Your duties do not include touching this instrument. Ever."
Judge Montgomery clears his throat, stepping from the shadows. Victoria's demeanor transforms instantly, her anger concealed beneath a practiced social smile. "Judge Montgomery! We weren't expecting you until this evening."
"I prefer to assess the performance space beforehand," he replies, his gaze moving between Victoria and Elsa with undisguised interest. "I was just enjoying some unexpected music."
Victoria's laugh is brittle. "Oh, you must mean Sebastian. My son is the highlight of our competition. His technique is unparalleled for his age."
"Indeed." Montgomery's eyebrow raises slightly. "I look forward to hearing him."
Victoria ushers him away, throwing a warning glance at Elsa over her shoulder. "The staff quarters are downstairs, Elsa. I suggest you return to where you belong."
As they leave, Judge Montgomery looks back, his perceptive eyes meeting Elsa's for a brief, significant moment.
In the privacy of a seldom-used office, Elsa fills out the competition application form with trembling hands. Every question feels like a trap, especially the sections requesting previous training and performance experience. She hesitates, pen hovering over the paper, before writing simply: Self-taught. Private study for 10 years. She seals the envelope and places it on the stack of outgoing mail, heart pounding with the recklessness of her action.
Hours later, Victoria sorts through the correspondence at her desk, her perfectly manicured nails slicing efficiently through envelopes. When she reaches Elsa's application, she studies the handwriting with narrowed eyes. Victoria's face hardens as she reads the contents.
With deliberate slowness, she tears the application into precise quarters, then eighths, watching the pieces flutter into her wastebasket. Her lips curve into a cold smile as she picks up her phone.
"Charles, it's Victoria Harrington. About that scholarship competition... I want to ensure the selection process properly reflects the values and standards of our foundation."
The next day, Elsa's makeshift keyboard—paper keys carefully drawn on cardboard, laid out on her bed—sits before her as she practices silently. Fingers dancing above the surface without making a sound, through headphones connected to nothing, she hears the music in her mind, eyes closed in concentration.
The door bursts open. Sebastian stands there with two friends, their faces twisted with cruel amusement.
"Well, look at this," Sebastian drawls, stepping into the small room without permission. "The maid's daughter thinks she's a pianist." His friends snicker on cue.
Elsa scrambles to hide her practice keyboard, but Sebastian is faster, snatching it away. "What is this pathetic thing?" He turns it over in his hands. "You actually think you can learn to play on paper?" His laughter cuts like glass. "My mother told me about your ridiculous application. As if someone like you could compete with trained musicians." He tosses the cardboard keyboard to the floor, deliberately stepping on it. "Delusions of grandeur are dangerous for people in your position. Remember that."
After they leave, Maria finds Elsa gathering the crumpled pieces of her keyboard, tears streaming silently down her face.
"Oh, mija." Maria kneels beside her, helping collect the torn cardboard. "This is what I've tried to protect you from."
"Why?" Elsa's voice breaks. "Why are people like them allowed to crush people like us?"
Maria wipes her daughter's tears with a calloused thumb. "Because the world is built by them, for them. Dreams aren't for people like us, Elsa. Security is what we can hope for. Survival."
Elsa's hands clench around the ruined keyboard. "That's not enough for me, Mom. It never has been."
The determination in her daughter's eyes fills Maria with both pride and terror. She's seen that look before—in the eyes of the man who left them both behind to chase his own impossible dream.
Gala preparations intensify as the date approaches. Elsa works double shifts, polishing silver until her reflection stares back at her from serving trays, arranging flowers until their perfume follows her into sleep. The house hums with anticipation, but a new complication has arisen.
"Sebastian, calm down. We'll find a replacement." Victoria soothes her son, who paces the music room like a caged animal. Through the partially open door, Elsa hears every word as she dusts the adjacent hallway.
"How? The competition is in 3 days, and David's wrist injury means there's no real competition now." Sebastian runs his hand through his perfectly styled hair. "What's the point of winning if everyone knows it was by default?"
Victoria taps her pen against her clipboard. "I'll call the conservatory. Surely they have another student who could participate on short notice."
Later that evening, Elsa overhears Sebastian in the garden, laughing with his friends over expensive brandy stolen from his father's study. "It's actually perfect," he gloats, swirling the amber liquid. "Judge Montgomery practically promised me the scholarship after David dropped out. Said something about appreciating my 'years of dedicated training.'" He smirks. "As if I needed to practice for this pathetic competition anyway."
Rage burns in Elsa's chest, hot and unfamiliar. She retreats to her mother's room, finding Maria meticulously mending a torn tablecloth despite the late hour.
"Mom, I need to know about my father," Elsa says without preamble. "The whole truth this time."
Maria's hands go still. "Why now?"
"Because I'm tired of hiding. Tired of being afraid. Tired of watching people like Sebastian Harrington get everything handed to them while people like us..." Elsa's voice catches. "While people like us mend their tablecloths at midnight."
The silence stretches between them until Maria sighs, setting her sewing aside.
"Your father, Matteo, was a musical genius. A pianist like no other." Maria's eyes take on a faraway look. "He played for the symphony despite having no formal training. His talent was too extraordinary to ignore."
"What happened to him?"
"He met me. I was working as an usher at the concert hall." A sad smile touches Maria's lips. "We fell in love, married, had you. He was offered a prestigious position with a European orchestra. We were going to move, start a new life." She falls silent, fingers unconsciously creasing the tablecloth.