Chapter 17

Stella's POV

One notification. Two. Ten. A hundred.

My phone wouldn't stop buzzing as I scrolled through Instagram the morning after the gala. The hashtag Lancaster Piano was trending, with video clips of last night's performance flooding social media.

"Did anyone else catch that piano performance at the Met?Who knew Stella Winston had it in her?"

"Technical precision + emotional depth. This isn't amateur hour - years of serious training evident in her fingering technique and pedal control. Lancaster Piano"

′′Lucy Winston claims to be the artistic heir but can barely handle basic pieces. Drama Lancaster Pian1o"

I couldn't help but smile at the close-up video someone had captured of my hands flying across the keys. The comments below were...interesting. "That's not just talent - that's years of dedicated practice. Look at her hand position!" "Former piano teacher here - her technique is conservatory level, This isn't something you can fake."The satisfaction was almost worth the incoming storm I knew was brewing.

Sam's message popped up:"Stella, you're EVERYWHERE!Even my doorman is talking about Lancaster Piano!"

I started typing a reply when another headline caught my eye:

"EXPOSED: Lucy Winston's 'Natural Talent' Called into Question After Rival's Stunning Performance"

\---

The video clips kept spreading. Someone had helpfully edited together Lucy's stilted performance with my piece,complete with professional musicians' critiques in the comments. The contrast was... stark.

"Basic posture mistakes throughout..."

"Rhythmic inconsistencies indicate lack of proper training..."

"This is what happens when you prioritize Instagram likes over actual practice."

A text from Sam made me snort coffee through my nose:"Your sister's having a total meltdown on her stories. You might want to check this out." Sure enough, Lucy's Instagram was a masterclass in social media crisis management - or rather, how NOT to handle it. "I've ALWAYS been musical," she insisted in one clip, voice slightly shrill. "Everyone knows the Winstons have artistic talent in our BLOOD_"

The comments were merciless:

"In your blood? Girl, you're adopted too ?"

"Someone's pressed about not being daddy's favorite anymore"

"Can we talk about that violin performance tho? My 6yo nephew plays better"

I couldn't help but laugh seeing them.

\---

"Miss?" Joseph's voice interrupted my scrolling. "There seems to be some... commotion at the Winston residence."

I raised an eyebrow. "Commotion?"

He cleared his throat delicately. "The staff gossip network suggests Miss Lucy is getting mad and throwing all things in her bedroom."

The mental image of Lucy rage-destroying her precious designer collection almost made me laugh. "How unfortunate." I kept my voice neutral. "I trust the cleaning staff will handle it discreetly?" "Maybe." Was that a hint of amusement in Joseph's voice?"Though they mentioned Mr. and Mrs. Winston seemed...rather preoccupied with their own discussion."

Now that caught my attention."Oh?"

"Something about reconsidering past decisions?" He adjusted his perfectly straight tie. "The exact phrase used was 'maybe we backed the wrong horse."

Interesting.

\---

That afternoon, I got some interesting information from my contacts at the Winston mansion (it's amazing how chatty the staff becomes after receiving good tips). According to them,John and Anna had a major argument in their private sitting room,all caught on the security cameras.

"She made us look like fools!" Anna's voice carried even through the thick doors. "Our own daughter, upstaged by that...that..."

"That remarkably talented young woman who we raised for twenty years?" John's tone was uncharacteristically sharp. "She deceived us all the time!" Anna's voice rose another octave. "Did she?" John cut her off, "Or did we just assume that because it was easier than admitting we might have...miscalculated?"

The silence that followed was deafening.

"But she's not our blood," Anna finally said, but her voice had lost some of its certainty.

"No." John sounded tired. "But she might be the better investment."

\---

The GT Group's HR department would probably be surprised my application for Fashion Director to land on their desk that morning. But timing was everything in both fashion and warfare.

I recieved the message from he HR manager sent messages."Mrs. Lancaster. Your application has been received."

I looked up from my laptop, where I'd been reviewing the latest Rouge numbers. Already? That was fast.

"Will there be an interview process?" I kept my tone professional in message. "The interview will be held next week." I couldn'at help but smile."Got it,thanks," Just as I was about to prepare for my interview when Joseph appeared with an envelope on a silver tray. It was a formal invitation.

I scanned the ornate text. "Lancaster Manor dinner party?"

"The old manor," Joseph clarified.′′Mr. Henry Lancaster is hosting."

The family patriarch himself. I heard Adam was not getting well with the members in the old Lancaster Manor. Well. This should be interesting.

"When?"

"Tomorrow evening." Joseph's expression gave nothing away.

\---

Adam'POV

I waited in the foyer, watching the shadows lengthen across the marble floor. The dinner at the old manor wasn't something I particularly looked forward to, but certain obligations couldn't be avoided.

The sound of heels on hardwood made me look up. And for a moment, I even forgot to breathe. Stella descended the stairs in a modern gown of pale moonlight silk, subtle patterns shifting like water with each graceful movoment. The dress hugged every curve while remaining perfectly modest.

She looked every inch the proper wife. No one would guess this was the same woman who could hustle professional gamblers at dice or play the piano gracefully.

But perhaps that was what made her so... intriguing.Every time I thought I had her figured out, another layer emerged.Like now - she'd chosen an outfit that was impeccably appropriate while being absolutely impossible to ignore.

Too eye-catching, a dark voice wvhispered in my head. The thought of others staring at her made me strange in my heart.

I rarely paid attention to someone. But Stella...she commanded attention without even trying.

When she was quiet and composed like now, she radiated a gentle elegance that drew the eye. When angry, she carried herself with an icy pride that demanded respect. And when she chose to be charming... the effect was devastating.

The memory of Brian's continued obsession with her darkened my mood. I could not tolerate others coveting what was mine.

Since when do you care who looks at her? In the car, I felt her studying me, no doubt noting my deliberately casual attire. A silent rebellion against the old manor's stuffiness.

"Mr. Lancaster." The way she said my name still felt like a challenge. "I'm not dressed like this to curry favor with your family."

I raised an eyebrow, waiting for her explanation.

"Perfect etiquette is the foundation for justified retaliation," she continued, a spark of that hidden fire in her eyes.′′Any breach in proper behavior gives them an opening to attack."

Her lips curved in a small smile. "Besides, maintaining an impeccable image is basic professional courtesy for a stylist."

Clever girl. Using their own rules as both shield and weapon.

I let my gaze trail deliberately over her form again, enjoying how her breath caught slightly. The way the silk hugged her curves was definitely going to be a test of my self-control tonight. "So, these are your reason?"

"Mr. Lancaster." The formal address was pure provocation now."Are you saying I've managed to capture your attention?"

The smile I gave her was all predator. "Careful, Mrs. Lancaster.You might not know what will happen later."