Alpha's Discarded Luna (Talia) novel Chapter 107

Alpha’s Discarded Luna

Chapter 105

Electra’s POV

The lights slowly brighten, and there she stands–Imema, bathed in spotlight, pristine white gown flowing around her like something from a dream. The makeup is flawless, the posture elegant, the overall effect absolutely angelic.

Then the music begins.

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Melodious. Soothing. Like water washing over stones, purifying everything it touches. The notes fill the auditorium, and I feel something shift in my chest despite myself.

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Damn.

I watch, transfixed, as her bow glides across strings with practiced precision. This isn’t just performance–this is mastery. Years of it. Decades, maybe.

I hate that I’m impressed. I hate that she’s good. I really, really hate it.

But facts are facts, and this woman can play.

Raymond leans toward me, voice low. “She has genuine talent. Her online fame isn’t just manufactured–Aires’s promotion helped, but she earned the foundation.”

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I know. I’ve seen her face plastered across every news feed, her performance videos racking up millions of views. “Prodigious pianist.” “The piano circle’s first beauty.” I always dismissed it as marketing, as hype, as the desperate flailing of someone with nothing real to offer.

I was wrong. Partially wrong. She’s still insufferable, but she’s also talented.

Raymond notices my prolonged silence. “You think Talia will lose?”

I snap back to myself. “No! Absolutely not. Imema is good–I’ll admit that. But she’s not Talia good.”

Raymond raises an eyebrow, skeptical. “Is

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Talia truly that exceptional?”

“Yes! Why would I lie about this?”

He shrugs. “You said you didn’t need help with the judges. Don’t blame me if things

go wrong.”

I purse my lips, irritated. “Why does everyone doubt her? You, Aires, those snobs backstage–all of you act like she’s some amateur playing pretend.”

“I’m not doubting her skill.” Raymond’s voice is calm, reasonable. “But even if

she’s as talented as you claim, she hasn’t touched a piano in five years. That

matters.”

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I cough, slightly embarrassed. “She’s been practicing lately. And honestly? Even with limited practice, she can beat Imema. If

Talia were at her peak? She’d destroy her. Instantly.”

I believe this. I have to believe this.

On stage, Imema’s solo ends. The lights shift, illuminating another figure.

Aeson.

He’s dressed in a perfect little black suit, hair neatly combed, looking every inch the young gentleman. Together, Imema in white, Aeson in black, they’re striking–a25

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visual masterpiece of contrast and elegance.

I curse under my breath. “Look at that piano. It’s incredible. And she still wants Di Lian?”

Raymond tears his gaze from the performance, glancing at me. “Di Lian is one of the ten renowned pianos. That instrument Imema has–it’s good, but it can’t compare.”

“You don’t understand.” I shake my head. “Di Lian’s fame comes partly from its quality, yes. But mostly from who played it. From what it represents. Talia’s mother made that piano legendary. Modern instruments have addressed old flaws–14:25

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technically, Imema’s piano might even outperform Di Lian slightly.”

I study the instrument in Imema’s hands, recognizing its quality.

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“But that’s not the point. The point is what Di Lian means. To Talia. To her

mother’s memory. To everything that woman stood for.”

r

The duet begins. Imema and Aeson,

playing together.

And it’s beautiful. I hate admitting it, but it’s true. The music swells, fills the hall,

touches something deep.

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But as I watch, I notice something. Imema’s presence is so overwhelming that Aeson practically disappears. The audience watches her, judges her, applauds her. The little boy beside her becomes scenery.

When the final notes fade, the applause is thunderous. Genuine. Earned.

People rise from their seats, cheering.

I don’t clap. I can’t. But I understand now–why Imema was so confident, why she agreed to the wager, why everyone assumed Talia would lose.

She’s good. Really good.

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But as the applause dies down and the next performers prepare, I think of Talia backstage. Of the fire in her eyes when she talked about her mother’s necklace. Of the years of practice, the natural gift, the sheer determination I’ve witnessed since we were girls.

Imema is good, but Talia is something else entirely.

And everyone’s about to find out.

Nick’s POV

Athena leans forward in her seat, eyes fixed on the stage with genuine wonder. “I don’t know much about pianos, but that

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was absolutely beautiful. No wonder Imema is so popular online–she’s genuinely talented.”

Even Diana, who criticizes everything and everyone, can’t hide her appreciation. Her voice is measured, but I hear the approval beneath. “When the Perseus family was building connections, we always prioritized powerful alliances. Looking at them now… perhaps Imema and Aires would have made a suitable match after

all.”

Athena nods eagerly. “Much more

suitable than Talia, that’s for sure. There’s simply no comparison.”

Diana’s expression curdles at the name 4:25

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“If I’d known Aires would end

up

marrying a high school dropout with no talents, no education, no nothing, I would have approved of Imema years ago. At least she brings something to the table.”

I can’t contain my excitement. “I can’t wait to see Talia lose! This is going to be spectacular!”

The strategy was mine, and I’m proud of it. When Imema needed time to redo her makeup, we initially considered having her perform last. But I had a better idea, let Talia go on after Imema, when the audience is still captivated, when the judges are still under her spell. Talia won’t just lose; she’ll be invisible. Forgotten. A footnote to Imema’s triumph.

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Imema loved the plan. Of course she did.

Now, watching the judges, I see exhaustion written on every face. The long competition has drained them–rubbing temples, yawning, struggling to stay focused. Parents shift restlessly in their seats. Children fidget and whine.

Then Imema begins to play.

The first notes float through the hall like magic, and suddenly everyone is awake. Alert. Transfixed.

Her piano–that stunning blue instrument that catches the light like captured ocean waves–sings under her fingers. The

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music dances, breathes, lives. It’s not just notes; it’s emotion, pure and powerful.

Whispers ripple through the audience.

“This is incredible! I had no idea she was

this talented!”

“Our daughter’s tutor is supposed to be excellent, but compared to this? No

contest.”

“I know a professional pianist, and even she isn’t half as good as Ms. Volkov.”

“No wonder Aires is so devoted to her.

Listening to this after a long day–it would heal anything.”

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The judges are spellbound. When the performance ends, they deliberate briefly, then reveal the score:

99.9.

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Not a perfect score only because of Aeson -he’s young, still learning, and his presence inevitably affected the overall assessment. But for Imema’s part?

Flawless.

I grin, barely containing my glee.

Talia is next, and she doesn’t stand a

chance.

The audience is still buzzing with Imema’s performance. The judges are still under 4:25

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her spell. No matter what Talia does, she’ll be competing against a ghost–the memory of perfection, lingering in every mind.

I settle back in my seat, anticipation bubbling.

This is going to be beautiful.

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