Chapter 87 Dazzle The Crowd

Chapter 87 Dazzle The Crowd

Isabella's POV

I can't tell him the truth.

I absolutely cannot tell him that I spent last night in his brother's arms, and that the hoodie I'm wearing is the one Terrence took off on the Ferris wheel and wrapped around me himself.

"I don't know," I say. "I woke up cold this morning and just grabbed something off the back of the couch. Isn't it yours?"

Maurice stares at me for a few seconds.

His brain is still foggy from the alcohol.

He rubs his temples, and his shoulders slowly relax.

"Probably Terrence's," he mutters, running a hand through his hair. "Why does my brother leave his crap lying around?"

He buys it.

I let out a quiet breath, but a strange sadness creeps in.

He can't even tell another man's clothes on his own girlfriend. Any random excuse works.

"Isabella," Maurice says, coming over to take my hand.

"We talked last night, right?" His voice turns sincere, almost like a kid who's done something wrong. "I swear I'm going to change. Fewer parties, less drinking. I'll spend all my time on you."

I look at his handsome, apologetic face.

"Okay."

I choose to believe him.

"I'm going to change." I pull my hand free and head back to the bedroom.

As I peel off the black hoodie, I can't help burying my face in the wide collar and inhaling deeply.

That sharp pine scent is still so clear.

Terrence isn't here today. Maurice says he went for a run before dawn.

I know why he's gone. Everything that happened last night on that twin bed—that tense body, that moment when he almost lost control, my kiss that crossed the line—he chose the simplest solution: physical distance.

He wants to pretend nothing happened.

Half an hour later, Maurice drives me to the music academy.

Pop music plays in the car. Maurice keeps trying to make me laugh, and at a red light he leans over and kisses the back of my hand.

"First rehearsal as first chair. You're going to blow them away."

"I hope so," I say, staring out the window.

The car pulls into the academy parking lot. Maurice carries my violin case and holds my hand as we walk into the main building.

I push open the glass door and freeze.

Between two Roman columns in the center of the entrance hall hangs a huge pink banner with bright gold letters: [Congratulations Isabella! Spring Gala Featured Solo!]

Students in the hall burst into applause when they see me walk in.

"Isabella! That's amazing!"

"Congratulations!"

I stand there frozen, my face instantly heating up. For three years, I was the invisible girl in the corner with a broken violin.

The dean emerges from the crowd, beaming, and extends his hand.

"Isabella, I watched your audition video three times. Excellent work. The academy has high hopes for this Spring Gala. I'm sure you won't disappoint us."

"Thank you, Dean. I'll give it everything I have." My voice is nervous but excited.

Maurice stands beside me, his arm around my shoulders, smiling and nodding at everyone around us as if this honor is partly his, too.

In a corner of the hallway, I pull out my phone and send a photo of the banner to the family text group.

"Mom, Dad, the academy put up a banner for me!" My hands shake as I type.

Within ten seconds, my mom responds with a flood of crying-laughing and heart emojis. "My baby! I knew you could do it!"

My dad sends a voice message, his voice clearly proud. "Isabella, you're our pride and joy. We're opening champagne tonight to celebrate!"

My eyes well up. This is my moment.

When my morning class ends, Maurice is already waiting by the lockers with two iced coffees.

"Here's your vanilla latte. What time does rehearsal end?"

"Around six."

I close my locker and hesitate. "Maurice, I'm not coming back to the apartment for dinner tonight."

"Oh? Are you celebrating with Mia?"

"No," I say, meeting his eyes. "Terrence told me this morning he's having dinner with an old military buddy. A guy named Seth, call sign Reveille. Seth's fiancée is going too, and Terrence asked if I could come keep her company."

I expect Maurice to find it strange. After all, it's his brother's private gathering, and I'm just his girlfriend.

But Maurice just raises an eyebrow and smiles, completely unbothered.

"Oh, Reveille, yeah, I know him. My brother's mentioned him before." Maurice shrugs. "Go ahead, it's fine. I have a tactical meeting tonight anyway. My brother's got a temper, but his military buddies are pretty cool."

He doesn't care at all. He doesn't even ask why his brother didn't invite him.

"Okay," I say, staring down at my coffee cup.

Maurice leans in and kisses my forehead. "Good luck at rehearsal, babe. I'll be waiting for you at the apartment tonight."

I watch him walk away and take a deep breath.

Two-thirty in the afternoon.

I get on the shuttle to the main concert hall with my violin case on my back, palms slightly sweaty. First official rehearsal, with all the school's top musicians—I have to prove Elena made the right choice.

I push open the heavy soundproof door of the concert hall, and cold air hits my face. All the stage lights are on, and dozens of orchestra members are tuning their instruments, a buzz of mixed notes.

Elena stands at the conductor's podium, holding her thin baton.

"Isabella, you're thirty seconds late," she says without turning around.

"Sorry, ma'am." I hurry onto the stage and take out my violin.

"Go to your spot."

I walk to center stage, to the very front. The spotlight hits me, making me squint.

But I notice two other people nearby.

Sophia wears an expensive silk blouse and holds her pricey antique violin, staring at me with a blank expression. On the other side stands Susan, very properly dressed, holding a violin and a thick stack of sheet music.

"Before we start, let me explain the personnel arrangement." Elena turns around, her gaze sweeping over the three of us.

"Isabella, third movement featured solo. Sophia, first chair accompaniment—support her high notes, match her rhythm."

Sophia lifts her chin and gives a cold "Mm."

"Susan," Elena looks at her, "you're Isabella's backup."

My fingers tighten sharply around the violin neck.

"Backup means you stand on the side and listen at every rehearsal. If Isabella gets sick, hurts her hand, or—fails to meet my standards in rehearsal—you step in immediately."

The concert hall goes dead quiet. Everyone looks at me.

I clench my jaw and straighten my back.

"I understand, ma'am. I won't mess up."

Elena narrows her eyes slightly, seeming fairly satisfied.

She turns to the orchestra. "Everyone, turn to the third movement, second measure. Let's run through the intro."

I raise the violin to my shoulder and take a deep breath.

Sophia walks past me and deliberately slams her shoulder into mine.

"That first chair's too heavy for you. You'll drop it. Already bowing to the audience?"