Chapter 72 Daylight Defiance
“Keep an eye on her every movement,” Ravial said, gaze fixed on the Juilliard Extension doors as Leitana disappeared inside.
The two men standing outside the car nodded once, sharp and silent.
They stepped back.
The tinted window rolled up with a soft hum.
“Is there a problem, my Lord?” Lucius asked from the passenger seat, turning slightly.
Ravial didn’t answer.
The car pulled away smoothly, merging into traffic.
Inside the building, Leitana walked beside the young man who had offered to guide her.
She studied him quietly, tall, dark hair neatly combed, glasses that gave him a thoughtful look.
“Wat yu name?” she asked, smiling shyly.
He grinned. “Ethan. And don’t worry, I already know who you are.”
Her eyes widened. “Yu do?”
He nodded. “You were introduced in class last time. When you came with your husband, Ravial Ashbourne.”
Leitana’s cheeks warmed at the memory, but she nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! Dat day mi nervous so much.”
Ethan chuckled. “You didn’t look it. Everyone was impressed.”
They turned a corner, nearing the studio.
He glanced at her. “But… aren’t you kind of young to be married?”
“Mi nineteen,” she said simply. “In Vanuatu, plenty people marry young. When yu find right person, yu no wait.”
Ethan blinked, then smiled. “Fair enough.”
They reached the studio door.
Students were already inside, chatting in small groups, tuning instruments, flipping through sheet music.
Conversation dipped the moment Leitana stepped in.
Heads turned.
Eyes lingered.
Leitana flushed, shifting closer to Ethan.
“Why dey all look at mi?” she whispered.
Ethan laughed under his breath. “Why wouldn’t they? They’ve never seen someone so… naturally pretty.”
Her cheeks burned hotter. “Oh…”
He guided her forward. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to my friends. They’ll love you—especially after what you did to Sabrina and her little cackle squad.”
Leitana shook her head, laughing softly. “No call dem dat. Dey jus’ in bad mood, maybe.”
“That’s how they are,” Ethan said with a shrug. “All the time.”
He led her to a cluster of seats near the middle.
Five friends looked up, smiling instantly.
No introduction needed—they knew who she was.
Ethan gestured anyway.
“Guys, this is….well I'm sure you all know her already. Leitana, these are my people.”
First, Mia, gothic vibe, black hair with purple streaks, heavy eyeliner, but her smile was warm and quick. “Love your energy already,” she said.
Next, Theo, the funny one, cute in a mischievous way, all black clothes, silver rings, dark nail polish. He stood dramatically, took Leitana’s hand, and kissed it with exaggerated flair.
“Welcome, queen,” he said. “Anyone who puts Sabrina in her place is royalty in my book.”
Leitana giggled. “Mi no do nothing big.”
Then Lila, cool, laid-back, curly hair tied back, always chewing gum. “Ignore Theo. He’s dramatic. But seriously, nice to have you.”
Beside her, mikey, quiet confidence, short pixie cut, sharp eyes that missed nothing. “You play with real feeling,” she said simply. “That hymn last time? Stuck with me.”
And finally, Kai, soft-spoken, kind smile, sketchbook always in hand. “Hi,” he said gently. “Glad you’re joining us.”
Leitana beamed, settling into the empty seat beside theirs.
“Tank yu all,” she said, voice bright. “Mi happy be here.”
Theo leaned in with a grin. “So… tell us exactly what you said to Sabrina. We need details.”
Leitana laughed, shaking her head.
The group leaned closer, eyes sparkling.
For the first time in this big, overwhelming place, she felt like she belonged.
A few minutes later
“You should have seen Sabrina’s face when Leitana said that,” Ethan recounted with a grin. “It was like she swallowed a lemon.”
The group burst into laughter.
Leitana looked around at them, their easy warmth wrapping around her like a blanket. She felt good, truly good, here among them.
“Speaking of the sauerpuss,” Theo muttered, nodding toward the other side of the room. “She’s staring right at us.”
Leitana glanced over.
Sabrina and her two friends stood across the room, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.
“I hope mi no say anything wrong,” Leitana whispered, worry creeping in.
Mikey leaned closer, voice low and reassuring. “No, darlin’. You didn’t. If anything, they were rude to you first. And the way you speak? So cool. I always love hearing accents—reminds me of some Nigerian friends here. Yours isn’t even broken English; it’s just… different. Beautiful.”
Leitana’s cheeks warmed. “Tank yu.”
She opened her mouth to say more when sharp footsteps clicked against the marble floor.
Everyone straightened.
Students hurried to their seats.
Ethan whispered quickly, “That’s Professor Harlan. We call him ‘The Dictator.’ Strict as hell.”
The man strode in, mid-forties, tall, thin, graying hair slicked back, posture rigid. His eyes swept the room like a general inspecting troops.
“Good morning,” he said, voice clipped. “I hear there’s a new student among us. I’m supposed to welcome her.”
He paused, gaze cold.
“I don’t care.”
A few nervous laughs, Sabrina’s group loudest.
Leitana shifted uncomfortably.
Mia muttered under her breath, “Jerk.”
Harlan continued. “In two weeks, we have the Extension concerto showcase. One of you will solo with the ensemble. You’ll submit your chosen piece three days prior. Impress me… or don’t bother showing up.”
He paced slowly.
“I expect preparation. Dedication. Talent,” Professor Harlan said, his voice slicing through the quiet.
He paced slowly in front of the class, hands clasped behind his back.
“Today, we’re reviewing your current repertoire assignments. You were all told to bring your marked scores and practice logs. Place them on the piano lid as you arrive.”
A rustle of movement followed, students pulling folders, sheet music, notebooks from bags and cases, stacking them neatly on the grand piano at the front.
Harlan watched, eyes sharp.
One by one, the piles grew.
He nodded curtly as each student complied.
Then his gaze swept the room again and stopped.
On Leitana.
She sat empty-handed, fingers twisted in her lap.
No folder.
No score.
No log.
Harlan’s mouth thinned.
“You,” he said, voice like a whip. “Stand up.”
Leitana rose slowly, cheeks already warming under the sudden attention.
The room went quieter still.
“You must be the new student,” he said, tone dripping disdain. “Everyone else managed to follow a simple instruction. Where is your score? Your practice log?”
Leitana swallowed. “Sir… mi new. Mi no know ‘bout dis assignment yet.”
A few stifled snickers, from Sabrina’s corner.
Harlan’s eyes narrowed.
“So you arrive unprepared on your very first proper day?” He stepped closer. “Just because you’re new and got in here through… certain means—doesn’t mean you’re exempt from the rules. Talent earns a place here. Not connections. Not money.”
The word landed heavy.
Sabrina smirked openly.
Leitana’s eyes stung, but she lifted her chin..
Ethan shot to his feet. “Professor Harlan, that’s uncalled for….”
“Sit down, Mr. Whitmore,” Harlan snapped. “I wasn’t asking you.”
Ethan froze, then sank back.
Harlan turned fully to Leitana.
“Well?” he pressed. “Do you have anything to show, or are you here to waste everyone’s time?”
“Mi husband get mi here,” she said, chin lifted. “Yes. He believe in mi. But mi talent bring mi to di piano. Not him.”
She met Harlan’s gaze.
“Yu no hear mi play yet. Yu judge mi before one note. Dat no fair. Dat no professional.”
A few gasps.
Harlan blinked.
Leitana continued, calm but firm.
“In mi country, we say ‘no judge book by cover.’ Yu do dat now. Mi no ask special treatment. Mi ask chance. Same chance yu give everybody.”
Silence.
Then Mikey whispered, “Damn.”
Harlan’s mouth tightened.
He stared at her a long moment.
“Sit,” he said finally.
Leitana sat.
The class exhaled.
Harlan turned to the board, voice clipped.
“We’ll see if you earn that chance.”
But his authority felt… cracked.
Just a little.
And across the room,
Sabrina’s smirk
had vanished.