Against all expectations, Amy Sinclair claimed the top spot—once more.

Wasn't this just giving Amy another platform to shine?

Meanwhile, Nathan Prescott's livestream was exploding with activity. The chat scrolled faster than the eye could follow, filled with animated gifts and celebratory emojis.

Nathan had spent weeks plotting Amy's public humiliation. He'd upgraded to the latest smartphone model, terrified technical issues might ruin the moment when the audience erupted in laughter at Amy's failure.

But fate had other plans.

Not only did Amy escape unscathed, she emerged from Nathan's trap with an even larger, more devoted following. The hunter had become the hunted.

Social media erupted with accusations against Dominic—the supposedly impartial judge—claiming he'd been bribed to sabotage Amy's performance.

Flushed with defeat, Nathan hastily ended the broadcast.

Across the room, Victoria Langley stared at her screen, fury choking her breath.

Useless. Completely useless. What kind of ally sabotages their own team?

Why had she ever trusted Nathan? How many of his schemes had actually succeeded? Every single time, Amy turned the tables and emerged stronger.

The realization sent a jolt through Victoria's chest.

She turned abruptly to her left.

Alexander Blackwood and his son Liam—one tall, one small—were both gazing intently at Amy, their attention utterly captivated.

A cold dread settled in Victoria's stomach.

The truth became clearer by the minute: defeating Amy wouldn't be simple. Perhaps it was time...to contact that person.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket.

The unknown number on the screen sent shivers down her spine. The message was brief:

"If you can't handle this, my door remains open."

Victoria's hand trembled. The phone slipped from her fingers, clattering against the marble floor.

Alexander noticed immediately. "Victoria, are you unwell?"

"I'm—fine," she forced a weak smile. "Perhaps I've been sitting too long. Feeling lightheaded."

Victoria's "terminal illness" required careful maintenance. She couldn't recover too quickly—it had to appear gradual. While she no longer collapsed weekly, she still summoned Alexander whenever convenient.

Soon, the competition concluded.

Amy and Oliver Kingsley's duet earned perfect marks and first place. Victoria and Liam placed second with ninety-eight points.

As Amy prepared to celebrate with Samantha Reynolds and friends, a voice called her name.

"Ms. Sinclair." Julian Montclair, one of the judges, approached. "Might I have a private word?"

Amy excused herself and followed Julian to a quiet alcove.

His striking blue eyes held hers with a calm intensity that felt reassuring rather than intimidating.

He smiled. "Your violin performance was extraordinary, Ms. Sinclair."

From his pocket, he produced an elegant ivory envelope. "In three days, Mr. Pendleton is hosting a private musical gathering. Would you honor us with your presence?"

Arthur Pendleton—a living legend among musicians.

Amy's pulse quickened at the sight of the invitation.

Five years ago, she'd missed her chance to study under him. She'd never dared hope for another opportunity.

She longed to accept, but Amy never took favors without reciprocation.

Meeting Julian's gaze, she said, "Mr. Montclair, if there's anything you'd like in return, please don't hesitate to ask."

Julian's eyebrows rose slightly, but his admiration visibly deepened.

He'd always been drawn to Eastern women. Watching Amy perform, he'd found her utterly captivating—graceful, poised, and exactly his type.