After I left, the twin Alphas went crazy novel Chapter 65

The crowd gasped when they saw me—blood-streaked, disheveled, my ankle clearly injured.

But I didn’t care. All eyes were on me now, not on Linda, not on her fake performance.

The security guards and host tried to stop me as I neared the stage, but I shoved them away with a newfound strength that surprised even me.

They weren’t going to keep me from this moment.

I rolled onto the stage, landing squarely in the spotlight. Linda froze, her fingers hovering over the piano keys as she turned to look at me, her expression a mix of shock and fear.

She hadn’t expected this. No one had.

With one swift motion, I kicked over her piano bench, sending her tumbling to the floor.

The elegant melody she had been playing stopped abruptly, and the crowd gasped in horror.

I slammed my fist down onto the piano, the sound echoing through the auditorium, my voice dripping with venom.

“Play? Did I tell you to keep playing?”

Linda scrambled back, her eyes wide as she stared up at me in disbelief.

“Sophia, what are you doing?” she stammered, but I cut her off.

“How dare you!” I shouted, the rage bubbling up from deep inside me. “How dare you send Ryan to set me up, to put me in this position, and then you have the audacity to sit here, pretending to play like some innocent little princess? Not anymore!”

**Of course, I know.**

The prestigious admissions teacher, invited by Arman, is seated on the stage, watching the proceedings with sharp, discerning eyes. His presence alone commanded respect.

In another life, he had heard Linda’s performance of *Moonlight* and had approached her at the end of the recital.

That night, he had asked if she would accept the special admission slot he had reserved for only the most talented. Linda, with a smile as bright as her future, had agreed.

Under Arman’s careful guidance, Linda was soon taken under the wing of a renowned master at the prestigious music academy. Her rise was inevitable, a product of both talent and connections.

I remember the day vividly.

I had gone to visit my dance teacher at the hotel, where there was to be a grand celebration later that evening.

But as always, there was nothing I could say to change his mind.

Linda had wrapped him in her web, and he believed every word she said.

.. .

Suddenly, a sharp cry rang out from the audience. “Blood! There’s blood on her dress!”

The hall erupted into chaos. I stood at the edge of the stage, my dress tattered, the hem soaked in blood and dust. My hair hung in tangled waves around my face, and my ankles, swollen and bruised, pulsed with pain. Every part of my appearance screamed the truth.

Linda stumbled to her feet, grasping onto the piano bench for support. Her eyes blazed with fury for a split second before she softened her expression, transforming into her usual innocent mask.

“Sofia,” she whispered sweetly, though there was venom beneath her words. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. This must be some sort of misunderstanding.”

Her voice was like honey, but I knew better.

“But,” she continued, “this is my show now. And out of respect for the audience, you shouldn’t be here so boldly.”