Alpha's Discarded Luna (Talia) novel Chapter 243

Chapter 241

Nick’s POV

I explode, my voice echoing off the walls of the studio. “Talia, why do not you just go rob a bank? One hundred million dollars could buy this entire studio!”

I had expected her to demand an outrageous sum. I braced myself for something unreasonable. But this? This is beyond outrageous. Throwing around a price of one hundred million dollars like it is nothing. Does she think money is that easy to

make? Does she think I am made of cash?

Talia does not flinch. Her voice is calm, almost bored. “Then go buy the studio. That way, no one else can fight you for it.”

My temper flares. I am about to blurt out, “Fine, I will…” when Richard cuts me off.

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“Nick, you have already wasted a lot of money lately.” His voice is measured, careful. “You cannot afford this.”

My mind clears instantly. The red haze of anger recedes, and cold logic rushes back in.

Spending one hundred million dollars on a single studio? Only

an idiot would do something that foolish. I glare at Talia, my 1/7 eyes narrowing.

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This woman is vicious.

She is clearly trying to provoke me into buying the studio outright. Just like at the auction, when I recklessly spent a fortune on useless items. I bought paintings no one wanted, vases that gathered dust, jewelry that lost value the moment I paid for it. I thought I could resell them later, make back some of the money. Instead, I found no buyers. No interest. Just a storage unit full of expensive mistakes.

And then there was the time I spread false rumors about Talia online. I hired bots. I paid influencers. I thought I had finally found a way to destroy her reputation. Instead, it backfired spectacularly. The public turned on me. I was cursed and mocked, my name dragged through the mud. I had to spend a fortune on PR just to salvage my own image.

The stocks of the Cooper Group still have not fully recovered.

At this point, I simply do not have that kind of cash to throw around. My accounts are stretched thin. My investments are underperforming. And my father is watching my every move.

I shoot Talia a sharp gaze.

Good thing Richard stopped me in time. Otherwise, I would have fallen into her trap again.

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This woman is pure evil.

I know that getting Talia to give in today will not be easy. She is stubborn. She is clever. And she has Richard on her side, apparently. To avoid falling into another one of her traps, I choose not to argue with her any further,

I sneer coldly, my voice dripping with contempt. “Talia, you will regret this!”

I turn to Imema, who has been standing silently beside me, her face unreadable. “Imema, let us go.”

Talia’s POV

Imema glances at me, her eyes unreadable, then turns and follows Nick out of the studio. Her heels click against the floor, sharp and deliberate.

J

Richard gives me a subtle nod before following them. His face is carefully neutral, betraying nothing. The door swings shut behind them.

The moment they are gone, Electra spits out her words like they taste bad. “So the people trying to take our studio were those two scums.” She shakes her head. “Nick and Imema!”

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Chapter 241

I add calmly, setting the résumés back on the desk. “The ones offering an outrageous sum for me to compose were also they.”

Electra groans, pressing a hand to her forehead. “What is wrong with these people?” She throws her hands up. “You are divorced from that man, yet they are still haunting you!”

I do not answer. There is nothing to say. Some people cannot let go. Some people need an enemy to define themselves.

A soft knock comes from the office door. A pleasant female voice calls from the entrance. “Excuse me, is this Elbern

Innovations?”

Electra and I turn toward the door. A young woman stands there, glancing around nervously. Her hands clutch a leather portfolio to her chest. She looks like she is about to bolt.

I approach her, my voice warm. “Yes, this is Elbern Innovations.” I gesture inside. “Are you here for the interview?”

The girl nods, her movements jerky and uncertain. “My name is Helena Rocha. I am here to apply for the pianist position.”

As she speaks, she hands me her résumé. Her fingers tremble slightly.

I scan through it quickly. Helena is not just a pianist. She is an exceptional pianist as well. The paper lists certifications and 5:24

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awards, achievements that span years. She has achieved a Level 10 certification in piano, the highest designation available. She has also won numerous awards in international competitions, many of them highly prestigious.

I nod, impressed. “Would you be able to play something for us?”

Helena nods and walks over to the piano. She sets her portfolio on the floor and settles onto the bench. Her fingers hover over the keys.

She adjusts the keys first, testing the feel. Then she begins to play.

Her foundation is solid. Her technique is impeccable. Every movement is precise, practiced, refined.

But then…

Whether from nerves or something else, she unexpectedly hits the wrong note. A small mistake, usually not a big deal. A skilled performer can quickly correct it and continue playing without missing a beat,

Helena reacts as if she has been frightened.

The piano lets out a discordant, low groan before falling silent. Her hands hover frozen over the keys. Her face goes pale instantly, drained of color.

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“I am so sorry…” Her voice cracks. “I made a mistake…”

Her eyes are slightly red. She looks somewhat exhausted, like she has not slept well in days. Her shoulders slump.

I notice her panic and soften my voice. “It is okay. It was just one wrong note.” I gesture to the piano. “You can try again.”

Helena looks up at me, searching my face for judgment. She finds none.

With my encouragement, she takes a breath and sits back at the piano. Her hands find the keys again. This time, her fingers move with confidence.

She plays flawlessly. A near-perfect performance. The music fills the room, rich and full and achingly beautiful.

When she finishes, Electra claps. “Ms. Rocha, your piano skills are excellent.” She tilts her head. “Why are you so insecure?”

Electra has already figured out the issue. I see it in her eyes. Helena’s problem is not skill. It is confidence.

Helena speaks with a hint of embarrassment, her voice barely above a whisper. “I have not really played the piano in five years.” She looks down at her hands. “I have been away from the industry for too long, and I am worried I will not be able to

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regain my former level…”

Her voice trails off. The silence stretches between us.

I understand, more than she knows.

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Alpha’s Discarded Luna