Chapter 6 Ahead of Schedule

Isabella's POV

After class, I headed to the practice room with a knot of anxiety tightening in my chest.

The moment I pushed the door open, I saw Elena standing by the music stand, her expression thunderous.

Oh no.

Every instinct I had started screaming that something bad was coming.

"The Spring Gala audition has been moved up."

The entire practice room erupted into chaos, whispers rising and falling like waves. "Moved up to when?" someone asked the question I was too afraid to voice.

"This Friday."

This Friday? That's only three days away.

The news hit me like a physical blow.

The original date was next week. I still had a full seven days to polish every detail, seven days to get my head in the right place, seven days to make every note second nature.

Now half that time had just vanished.

"So," Elena's baton cracked against the music stand, "I don't want to see anyone playing the garbage you showed me yesterday."

Her eyes swept across the room and landed on me, lingering for two extra seconds.

Those two seconds were enough to make cold sweat break out across my back.

"Starting today, everyone's practice time doubles. Solo candidates, stay after for extra work."

The others gradually dispersed, each finding their spot to begin.

Three days.

Only three days left.

I took a deep breath, lifted the violin to my shoulder, let the bow fall on the strings, and started again from the first measure.

All I could see were the strings and the melody, nothing but the feedback from each contact between my fingertips and the bow hair.

Once, twice, three times.

I kept running through it.

My left fingertips were rubbed raw. An old callus had split open, revealing tender pink skin underneath. Even the lightest touch sent sharp pain shooting through my fingers.

I buried my face in my knees, took a deep breath, and slowly released it.

I can't panic. I can't fall apart.

The moment I panic, everything will spiral out of control.

I packed up my violin case and pushed open the practice room door.

At the end of the hallway, Maurice was leaning against the wall waiting for me.

When he saw me emerge, he immediately straightened up, walked over quickly, and took the violin case from my hand—the movement practiced and natural.

"Why do you look so pale?" He frowned and touched my forehead. "Did she tear into you again?"

"The Spring Gala audition got moved up to this Friday."

Maurice's expression clearly froze for a moment, then his brow furrowed. "Moved up? Why so suddenly?"

"I don't know. Ms. Elena didn't give a reason."

He was silent for a few seconds, then put his arm around my shoulders, very gently. "It's okay, you've got this. You've been practicing for so long. A few days earlier won't really throw you off."

I didn't say anything. I leaned against his shoulder and closed my eyes.

I really wanted to tell him I was terrified of screwing it up.

Three years. I'd been waiting for this opportunity for three whole years. If I blew it, I'd have nothing left.

But I didn't say it out loud.

I didn't want him to worry, and I didn't want my fear to become more real once I put it into words.

"Come on," Maurice patted my shoulder. "Go back and change. You still need to come to my place for dinner tonight."

Right, the family dinner.

I'd almost forgotten about that.

I went back to my apartment and tore through my entire closet, finally pulling out the navy dress from the very bottom.

It was one of my few formal outfits. I'd bought it during last year's clearance sale, wincing at the price, and had been too reluctant to wear it since.

The fabric was pretty basic, but the cut was simple and clean. At least it looked decent when worn.

I checked myself in the mirror several times, redid my hair, and dug out that half-used lipstick, carefully applying a layer.

The person in the mirror looked acceptable, at least not completely embarrassing.

I took out the small gift box from the drawer.

I'd picked it out a few days ago from a craft shop near campus—a ceramic figurine of a little cat holding a violin. It looked cute and delicate.

I'd saved up half a month's living expenses to afford it. I figured that for my first time having dinner at my boyfriend's house, I couldn't show up empty-handed. The gift wasn't expensive, but it showed I cared.

I carefully tucked the gift box in my bag, took one last look in the mirror, and took a deep breath.

Maurice had sent a driver who was already waiting downstairs.

I got in the car. It pulled away from my familiar neighborhood, going farther and farther. The buildings along the road changed from crowded apartment complexes to detached houses with tidy yards, then to estates with high walls and security gates.

I watched the constantly shifting scenery outside the window, unease rising bit by bit in my chest.

Does he live this far out?

I'd never been to Maurice's house before. Every time it came up, he'd brush it off vaguely, saying "next time" or "I'll take you some other day."

I hadn't thought much of it, just assumed the timing wasn't right.

But now, watching the increasingly grand and luxurious buildings outside the window, a feeling I couldn't quite name began to stir inside me.

The car stopped just outside an ornate iron gate. My fingers clutching my skirt tightened hard, my knuckles turning white.

This dress I was wearing was my prized possession, but placed in this setting, it looked cheap and painfully out of place. My cheeks burned.

The iron gate slid open silently, and I froze.

The driveway was wide enough to park four stretch limos side by side. The ground was paved with imported marble, polished to a mirror shine. The carved stone railings along the drive looked like they were made from solid white jade, with tiny decorative crystals embedded in the handrails.

The villa in the distance didn't look like an ordinary mansion at all—it was more like a sprawling estate. Massive floor-to-ceiling windows stretched from the ground floor to the top, and from outside you could see crystal chandeliers casting cold light inside.

The courtyard was big enough to host a private gala. Even a random lounge chair in the yard looked like it was made from century-old teak, covered with custom leather cushions.

Most outrageous of all, there was a private helipad in the distance, and even the garden hose looked like it was custom-fabricated metal.

This wasn't just a house—this was clearly the kind of top-tier billionaire estate you'd only see in lifestyle magazines.

And my cramped apartment in that narrow alley probably wasn't even as big as their pool house.

My heart sank, and a bitter taste filled my mouth.

Maurice had never told me his family had this kind of money.

I'd always thought he was like me, just a kid from an ordinary family.

Why had he never told me the truth? Or did he never really plan to let me into this part of his life?

I bit my lower lip, took a deep breath, and forced myself to open the car door.

Maurice had clearly promised he'd wait for me at the entrance.

But the entrance was empty—not a soul in sight.

Just then, the villa door opened and a figure walked out.

The person was tall and broad-shouldered. His features were almost identical to Maurice's, but the aura around him was so cold it kept people at arm's length.

He didn't have any of Maurice's warmth. Just standing there, his presence was so commanding I could barely find my voice.

When he spoke, his tone carried obvious distance. "You're Isabella?"

I instinctively touched the small gift box in my bag.

It was the handmade figurine I'd bought with half a month's living expenses. I'd planned to give it as a gift for my first family dinner—not too forward, but thoughtful.

But when I looked up again at this absurdly grand villa that looked like a movie set, then down at the palm-sized thing in my bag with its simple wrapping, I didn't even have the courage to take it out.

It was just too cheap. So cheap that if I brought it out, people would only find it laughable, would only wonder what Maurice saw in me.

Where was Maurice?

Why hadn't he come to meet me?

Who was this person standing in front of me who looked almost exactly like him?