Betrayed by Blood: My Second Life as a Queen novel Chapter 397

The notes were technically on pitch, but the melody was as basic as humanly possible. If he had to describe it, it felt like an adult critically analyzing a kindergartener's finger-painting.

Ethan took a sharp breath, completely stunned.

Was this really something a top-tier pianist would compose?

He wasn't sure. He needed to keep listening.

Maybe there was a brilliant, avant-garde twist coming up.

Willow arched an eyebrow, silently marveling to herself. Wow, it's just as ear-bleedingly awful as always.

She glanced sideways at the stubbornly hopeful Ethan, who was still trying to encourage Tessa. "Just let it flow naturally. Don't be too nervous."

Hearing that, Tessa's eyes lit up. Did that mean Ethan was actually enjoying her piece?

Her confidence absolutely skyrocketed, and the melody beneath her fingers devolved into a chaotic, unorganized mess.

The veins on Ethan's temples throbbed violently, his hands curling into tight fists. Worse, every time he looked up, he was forced to witness the obnoxiously smug, self-satisfied look on Tessa's face.

What kind of absolute garbage is she playing?!

How did she have the audacity to look so proud of herself?

If Ethan ever produced something this horrific, he wouldn't be able to sleep for a week out of pure shame.

Across the concert hall, the expressions of the other musicians twisted into bizarre masks of secondhand embarrassment. A few of them desperately wanted to laugh but swallowed it down purely out of respect for Ethan's presence.

By the time the performance dragged on for half a minute, Ethan's patience completely snapped. "Enough!" he barked through gritted teeth.

Tessa finally snapped out of her delusion. She shot Willow a wildly arrogant look before turning to him. "Mr. Ellwood, what did you think... of my performance?"

Ethan tried to hold his tongue. He had personally endorsed Tessa; tearing her down now was basically slapping his own face.

But despite his raging ego, when it came to his art, he had zero tolerance for mediocrity.

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