NovelEnglishArabella watched as Beverly stepped forward to speak, choosing to remain silent herself. Instead, she turned to Eugene, "Grandpa
Eugene, | reckon it's about twe got this birthday shindig started."
It was already half-past eight in the evening.
"Right you are, tto cut the cake." Eugene glanced around the gathering, "Haven't seen Charles and Nelson yet, have we?"
"Should be here any minute now."
"Alright then." Eugene gestured invitingly, "Let's all head to the garden, folks. That's where we'll be slicing into the birthday cake
tonight."
His spirits were high; seeing his darling girl, who he had cherished since her childhood, utterly captivate the crowd brought a smile
that stretched from ear to ear. It was a feeling of pure thrill.
Meanwhile, Alma stood rooted to the spot, her steps heavy as if her feet were filled with lead, unable to move.
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"You've bit off more than you can chew," Beverly tossed these cold words at her, her expression icy, her gaze not that of a mother
looking at her daughter, but rather at something worthless.
If Arabella's performance was truly improvised, her talent wasn't just a hundred times better than Alma's - it was beyond measure.
"Given her skills, you could practice for another ten years and still not even cclose to her."
Alma looked at her mother in disbelief, not expecting such high praise for Arabella.
"You lost the battle at The Life music contest. Normally, | could have pulled sstrings, especially since it's Mr. Eugene's birthday
bash. That girl might have cut you sslack, and you wouldn't have to say goodbye to your violin. But you just had to be
stubborn, challenging her to an impromptu composition. Did you see Nathan's face darken? He thinks you're a sore loser, causing a
scene for no good reason."
Alma flushed with shame, "I just couldn't accept it."
"Your improvisation took two months to polish, and you still lost to her. It proves she's out of your league. When you meet a
superior opponent, you should reflect and learn, not be blinded by jealousy. How are you any different from Serena then?"
Hearing her mother's words, Alma's face reddened even more.
"Do you think you're entitled to every championship in the world? Can't someone else have their moment? Those with too much
pride never go far." Beverly said coldly, "Even if you've lost, walk out there with your head held high. You're my daughter; you can't
let people say you can't handle defeat. And from now on, you're not to touch the violin again."
With that, Beverly made her way to the garden in her heels.
Suddenly, Alma felt small, realizing it was her own insistence on competing. Having lost, she needed to accept defeat gracefully.
She blamed herself for letting her competitive spirit cloud her judgment.
"How does it feel to be outplayed?" ca voice from the corner.
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Serena emerged with a smirk of schadenfreude.
"Back at Summerfield College, you insisted on that violin showdown and ended up humiliating yourself in front of everyone. |
thought you'd learned your lesson, but no, here you are tonight, making a fool of yourself in front of esteemed elders. No wonder
Aunt Beverly is livid. If | had a daughter as foolish as you, I'd be beside myself with frustration."
Even though Beverly had just likened her daughter's poor sportsmanship to Serena, implying an insult, Serena couldn't help but
revel in Alma's downfall.
Alma, with nowhere to direct her anger, faced Serena and slapped her across the face, "You can't even hold a candle toin
violin; what gives you the right to talk smack?"
"You dare hit me?" Serena clutched her face.
"Yes, | hit you. So what?" Alma grabbed her hair, warning her, "You think I'm afraid of you, a foster kid? Just because I've been nice
to you, you think you're better than everyone? You better watch yourself. You don't want to mess with- | can make your life a
living hell in a heartbeat!"
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