The Ex-Wife's Burning Elegance

Harry's performance started almost immediately.

In the world of classical music, he was a legend on the violin-people might question his character, but no one ever doubted his talent.

He was one of the rare few who could even attempt to play *The Gaze*.

Harry only held a concert once every three years. Tickets were so coveted that they sold out instantly, and even the wealthy sometimes had to call in favors just to get a seat.

Anyone who managed to attend his concerts was either rich, powerful, or both.

Maybe that's why Harry carried himself with such arrogance, barely bothering to acknowledge anyone else he moved in circles of influence that most could only dream of.

Tonight, the audience was nearly delirious with excitement. A single ticket to this competition now offered a chance to witness Harry perform live—a privilege money usually couldn't buy.

People whipped out their phones, eager to capture the moment and later boast about it to their friends.

But this wasn't just any piece he was playing. This was *The Gaze*.

To perform *The Gaze* flawlessly required at least ten times the effort and concentration of an ordinary piece.

Even at his own concerts, Harry dared to play only one such challenging piece per night—any more, and even he risked losing focus and making mistakes.

Videos of Harry performing these notoriously difficult works were still used as masterclasses for aspiring violinists around the world.

His technique was simply peerless.

As the last note faded, the entire hall sat in stunned silence, still spellbound by Harry's virtuosity.

Even the judges-some of whom had secretly hoped for a slip-up-were left utterly defeated.

Harry was just too good.

Stella Cameron didn't stand a chance; she'd be forced out of the competition, maybe out of the scene altogether.

Only when the host finally reappeared on stage did the audience explode into thunderous applause.

"He's unbelievable! At this rate, Harry could probably go head-to-head with Mr. Walden himself."

"He's truly a prodigy-outshining the master. Mr. Walden has a sharp eye for talent to have mentored someone like Harry."

"Maybe Rachel Pearce has the same kind of potential-that's probably why Mr. Walden picked her, too."

"I'll admit, I've never liked the guy, but you can't argue with that level of skill." "Stella's finished. Harry's going to destroy her."

With a satisfied smile, Harry stepped off the stage, basking in the chorus of admiration.

He was pleased with his own performance.

He'd had his off days

before—everyone did, especially with a piece as demanding as *The Gaze* It required total mental and physical focus; a single lapse could mean disaster.

But tonight, he felt sharper than ever.noveldrama

For Stella, beating him was next to impossible.

Lately, there'd been a lot of whispers questioning Mr. Walden's

judgment—his reputation, built over decades, now shaken by someone as insignificant as Stella.

Mr. Walden was hoping Rachel

would defeat Stella and restore be

standing, but honestly, Rachel could practice for a century and stit probably never surpass Stella.

Better to just cut his losses and erase Stella from the scene altogether, Harry thought. With her talent, she might even surpass him one day if given the chance.

He had to snuff out that possibility before it ever took root.

With these thoughts swirling, Harry headed backstage.

He didn't even bother to taunt Stella anymore.

She was already finished.

As they passed each other in the wings, Harry's gaze fell on the violin in Stella's hands.

Something about it struck him as oddly familiar.

He stopped in his tracks, spun around, and stared at her.

His eyes went wide.

Nocturne Stella.

It was Nora's *Nocturne Stella*.

That violin was the stuff of Harry's nightmares.

He would never forget the moment *Nocturne Stella* sang, he was reminded of

the helplessness and defeat he'd always felt, forced to play in its shadow.