The Divorced Military Queen Awakens (by Sadie Baxter) novel Chapter 658

Chapter 658 New Sisters Clash

Chapter 658 New Sisters Clash

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Emma crossed to the grand piano gleaming on the left side of the hall, its lacquered surface reflecting a thousand specks of light.

She possessed genuine talent; among children her age, she ranked near the top, a fact she wore like a hidden crown.

The first notes spilled into the room, smooth and ringing, weaving instantly through the chatter until silence gathered to listen.

“Wow–that’s a Mozart piano concerto!”

“Number 21, no less. Emma can play this? She’s only eight!”

“No wonder people say Edmund’s daughter is gifted at the keys.”

“She’ll be a famous pianist one day, mark my words.”

Whispers rippled from one cluster of guests to the next.

Edmund’s chest swelled; he had spared no expense on her lessons and, at this moment, every coin felt vindicated.

Once the final chord faded, Emma swept her gaze across the room, drinking in every admiring eye. But when her glance brushed Dawn, the child sat untouched, as if she had merely overheard a tune that concerned someone else.

Emma’s teeth pressed together behind her smile She’s just an orphanage brat; what would she know about music?

She would prove, tonight, that even adoption could not bridge the gulf between them.

She lifted her chin and addressed her father loudly so every ear could hear. “Daddy, since this party is for Dawn, why don’t we invite her to share a little talent of her own? I’m curious what the orphanage might have taught her.”

A faint line creased Edmund’s brow; his daughter was young and still transparent, her motives obvious to him.

Asking an orphanage child to perform would be nothing short of an invitation to humiliation.

Edmund reminded himself that he still needed time to weave a bond with the girl. Humiliating her in front of these glitter–draped strangers had never been part of the plan.

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Chapter 658 New Sisters Clash

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A portly guest, cheeks ruddy with champagne, raised his glass and called across the room. “Since the child is worthy of your adoption, Edmund, she must possess some remarkable gift. Let her perform for us–just a little demonstration.”

“Indeed–let us see what tricks the tiny creature can manage,” another voice chimed in, hungry for sport.

Edmund’s gray eyes flickered, slicing through the candlelight. “I’m afraid she is still very young. Back at the orphanage, she never had the chance to… to study such things.”

“Perform a talent? Do you mean like the piano piece just now?” Dawn asked, genuinely puzzled.

She had no idea what people meant by a talent display; no one at the orphan taught her such accomplishments.

ver

“Exactly,” one of Emma’s playmates said, tilting her head with a sugary smile. “Emma’s piano solo was one kind of showcase. You could do something else–dance, perhaps?”

“She probably can’t even dance–might manage a dog–paddle at best,” someone snickered from the back.

Laughter answered him, rolling across the hall like cheap confetti.

A spark of excitement flashed across Emma’s face; nothing delighted her more than a humiliation that belonged to someone else.

Yet, while the snickers still hovered in the air, Dawn stepped away from the knot of adults and walked toward the waiting grand piano.

“No way–she means to play, like Emma did?”

“A child from an orphanage, tackling Beethoven Impossible,” another guest scoffed with a dismissive wave.

“She just wants the spotlight, that’s all.”

Edmund was annoyed as he watched the small figure settle before the instrument.

He admired the spark of confidence in her, yet pride without proof rubbed him the wrong

way.

Does she honestly believe she can match Emma?

“Dawn, it’s fine if you don’t have a polished talent. You can learn later,” Edmund called, his tone softening.

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Chapter 658 New Sisters Clash

“I don’t have a talent, but I can mimic,” Dawn replied, her voice clear and steady.

“Mimic? Ha! She isn’t about to imitate Emma’s piano, is she?”

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“That’s absurd–some things can’t be copied,” another crooned. “My sides hurt already.”

“Orphanage kids know nothing,” a woman declared, drawing fresh laughter.

The wave of derision swelle

bouncing off chandeliers and marble walls.

Dawn climbed onto the piano bench, her feet dangling above the polished floor. She lifted her tiny hands and, with deliberate care, copied Emma’s posture–back straight, wrists level, fingers poised above the ivory. The first cool touch of the keys sent a tremor up her arms, yet she inhaled, exhaled, and pressed the opening note.

Sound burst through the ballroom in a raw, uneven torrent, startling a few silence.

gue.

To uneasy

It was the clumsy hammering of a first lesson–single notes struck one by one, stubbornly refusing to form a melody.

“Told you–no foundation whatsoever,” somebody cackled.

“She thinks the piano works like a mirror–you watch, you the man scoffed.

The laughter rose again, sharper now.

But on the bench, Dawn remained unmoved, her small fingers still tapping out each solitary key, eyes fixed on the expanse of black and white before her.

On that lovely, doll–sized face burned an intensity far too grown–up for her age. Her brows knitted, lashes trembled, and the tip of her tongue peeked out, steadying every ounce of attention she possessed.

At first, the scattered audience exchanged uncertain looks. The music stumbling from her little fingers sounded like porcelain cracking on marble–start–stop, stop–start, never quite resolving into a melody, each phrase shivering apart before it could breathe.

Yet an elderly violinist, then a young man beside him, began to frown in realization. However fractured the flow, every single pitch landed true, as if an unseen metronome steadied her from somewhere deep inside.

Only then did they understand–she was not thrashing at random. She was, note for painstaking note, reconstructing the very composition Emma had performed moments ago, chasing it through memory like fireflies in the dusk.

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