Alpha's Discarded Luna (Talia) novel Chapter 278

Alpha’s Discarded Luna

Chapter 275-2

I watch him closely, and right on cue, I see the tight twitch in his jaw. The mere mention of Serena’s name acts like a spark to a dry forest. The old, festering jealousy flares in his dark eyes, a dangerous crimson glint flashing through his pupils.

“Serena’s daughter?” Cassian scoffs, a bitter, ugly laugh escaping his throat. He stands up from the bench, pacing around the grand instrument. “That woman’s legacy was built on emotional manipulation and theatrical sentimentality. It wasn’t real classical mastery. And now her brat thinks she can crawl out of the gutter and claim a place in our world? Ridiculous. The public is full of fools who wouldn’t know true technical perfection if it bit them.”

“Exactly!” I say, stepping closer to him, my voice rising with a carefully calculated intensity. I touch his forearm gently, looking up at him with absolute reverence. “That is exactly what I told Aires. But the public doesn’t see it that way. They are being blinded by her pathetic story. She needs to be shown her true place, Cassian. She needs to be confronted by someone of actual undeniable caliber. Someone whose technical perfection can completely obliterate her cheap tricks.”

Cassian tilts his head, his massive ego thoroughly stroked by my words. He looks down at my hand on his arm, a proud, satisfied smirk returning to his lips. “And what exactly are you proposing, Imema? I don’t perform in back–alley theaters for1:40

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internet commoners.”

“Of course not,” I purr, a dark, hidden triumph blooming in my chest as I realize he is swimming right into my fret. “I would only ever offer you the grandest stage. Jack is hosting an upcoming Charity Gala for the children’s treatment center. It is going to be packed with high–society elites, major corporate sponsors, and the city’s top music critics. It is the perfect venue.”

I release his arm and walk toward the window, pretending to think out loud. “Technically, Jack cannot say no to you. Your presence alone will elevate the entire event, bringing in millions in sponsorship that the children’s center desperately needs. It is a prestigious corporate opportunity that he legally and financially cannot reject without looking like an absolute fool to his board.”

I turn back to face Cassian, my eyes narrowing into sharp, malicious slits as the true trap is finally unveiled. “But in reality… this will be your stage. Talia is planning to use this gala to showcase her own music, to solidify her comeback. But if you are there, performing right alongside her, it will turn into an immediate, direct comparison. A direct competition.”

I walk back to him, my voice dropping into a lethal, low whisper. “You can use that stage to publicly shatter her confidence, Cassian. In front of the critics, in front of the sponsors, in front of everyone who matters. You can expose her as the uneducated frand she truly is. When they see her sloppy, emotional laying o

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right next to your flawless, legendary technique, she will be utterly ruined. She will never have the courage to stand on a stage again.”

Cassian stands still for a long moment, digesting the plan. I hold my breath, watching the gears turn in his arrogant mind. He looks at his own hands, flexing his long, nimble fingers–the fingers of a prodigy who has never known defeat. The dark envy of Serena’s ghost and the intoxicating pull of absolute public dominance war in his expression, until finally, a cold, ruthless smile breaks across his face.

“A charity gala,” Cassian murmurs, his voice filled with a dangerous, dark amusement. “How noble. Very well, Imema. Inform the organizers that I will grace them with my presence. Let Serena’s little brat play her little games. I will personally tear her confidence to shreds and ensure she crawls right back into the dirt where she belongs.”

“Thank you, Cassian,” I say, offering him a sweet, graceful bow.

As I turn around and walk away from the practice room, my sweet expression instantly melts away into a mask of pure, unadulterated malice. A cold, victorious laugh bubbles in my throat. Enjoy your little moment of fame while it lasts, Talia, I think to myself, my heels clicking rhythmically against the marble floor like a countdown to her doom. By the time the gala is over, you will be nothing but a laughingstock.

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