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?"