Harrison Harrington once declared, "My daughter has known nothing but privilege and comfort since the day she was born. There's no reason for her life to be anything less than extraordinary."

Yet he was never one to rule with an iron fist—he didn’t force Evelyn into the arts against her will.

Instead, he presented her with two choices.

First option: follow his carefully laid-out path, enroll in a prestigious conservatory or art school, and in return, he would grant her fifteen percent ownership in Harrington Enterprises.

Second option: forge her own path, attend any university she desired, but she’d receive no financial support, no shares, nothing.

Fifteen percent of the Harrington fortune wasn’t just substantial—it was a staggering inheritance, even among Europe’s elite. Of her three brothers, only the eldest held as much. Connor and Isaac each had just ten percent.

Harrison’s willingness to offer Evelyn that much spoke volumes about her place in his heart.

So Evelyn chose the shares and enrolled at an elite arts academy.

She was naturally gifted, having been groomed for excellence since childhood. Painting, literature, music—she excelled in every refined pursuit. Picking up the violin was effortless for her.

Yes, she majored in music, just like Amy had—specifically, the violin.

Harrison adored the sound of the violin.

From her brothers, Evelyn learned that Mrs. Harrington had once been an extraordinary violinist. She suspected Harrison’s insistence on the instrument was tied to his late wife.

But it didn’t matter to her. Knowledge was knowledge—the subject was irrelevant.

As for Amy…

Evelyn never saw her as competition.

She had been raised in the lap of luxury, never needing to lift a finger for the finest things in life. Amy, on the other hand—though Mrs. Harrington ensured she lacked nothing—still lived a life that, while privileged to most, paled in comparison to the Harringtons.

Amy had lost before the race even began.

How could she possibly compare?

Evelyn might have been born out of wedlock, but she was still Harrison’s daughter. Amy, despite her legitimacy, had lost her advantage and now lived in obscurity.

As Evelyn and Connor chatted, Isaac Harrington—Connor’s twin—entered the room.

"What’s so amusing?" Isaac was far more animated than his usually reserved brother.

He glanced at the freshly brewed tea on the table, picked up a cup, and took a sip. "Perfect timing. I was parched."

Evelyn smiled, refilling his cup. "We were just discussing Evelyn."

Isaac’s hand stilled mid-sip, his sharp brows lifting. "Amy?"

Evelyn caught the way he said her name, her eyes glinting with intrigue. Ever since Amy had returned to the family—even after Harrison had renamed her Evelyn—Isaac had always called her Amy.

Evelyn knew—Isaac had never truly accepted Amy as his sister.

Isaac smirked, catching her meaning. "What, is she trying to crawl back to Father now? Typical. Things must’ve gone south for her out there, so she’s scrambling to reclaim her place as the golden child."

Evelyn tilted her head. "Has it really gone so poorly? From what I’ve seen, she’s thriving in Newhaven. She’s a charity ambassador now, a social media darling with millions of followers."

Isaac chuckled darkly. "After Father heard recent news about Amy, he wanted her back. He had me look into her past five years. Guess what I uncovered?"

For once, Connor looked intrigued. "What did you find?"