Chapter 244

Paloma Wyatt, representing the organizers, called with brief condolences.

Moreover, Roschelle transferred fifty million into her account that very night.

Staring at the string of zeros following the five, Alarieka felt satisfied.

Yet among contestants, gossip inevitably swirled.

Like the renowned Mr. Argent spending multiple nights in Roschelle’s room.

Like the morning both Kieran and Roschelle rose late, Roschelle’s neck bearing seemingly fresh love bites.

Or like Kieran planning to propose to Roschelle after the competition.

The wait for the finals bred boredom, fueling contestants’ appetite for juicy rumors. Kieran and Roschelle’s romance became their hottest topic, discussed with envious admiration.

Alarieka heard the whispers, but remained focused, dedicating herself to final preparations.

The competition ranking mattered little; her goal was to unveil Lindsey Weaver’s name to the world.

Lindsey Weaver’s name must stand alone, not as Roschelle’s alias.

She would return the name Lindsey Weaver to its rightful owner.

The finals arrived swiftly.

This time, the venue shifted to a grander stage – a vast performance space accommodating nearly a thousand. The setup transformed dramatically: a grand piano stood formally at center stage under a solitary spotlight, its beam casting a perfect circle around the instrument.

When Alarieka entered the green room, silence fell momentarily.

For good reason: the woman who wore only t-shirts and jeans through preliminaries and semifinals now stood draped in an emerald gown with floor-sweeping fringe.

When Alarieka Huston approached, none of the contestants recognized her as Alarieka Huston, their eyes filled with awe.

She was stunning.

Alarieka Huston wore an emerald fringe gown, its delicate V-neckline perfectly framing her porcelain collarbones and shoulders. Straps coiled around her arms as cascading fringes fell like waterfalls, while a golden belt cinched her slender waist. Under the lights, her luminous skin seemed to glow softly, drawing every eye.

Her back was almost entirely bare, revealing elegant curves and the graceful contours of her figure. A waterfall of raven hair tumbled down her spine, partially veiling the delicate wings of her shoulder blades. Her meticulously applied makeup accentuated serene almond eyes that calmly surveyed the room – mere words like “radiant” couldn’t capture her presence.

Alarieka arrived later than most finalists already gathered in the waiting area. Though the room brimmed with lavishly dressed men and women, her entrance instantly commanded all attention. Murmurs rippled through the crowd: "Has the sun risen from the west today?"

"Where are her usual jeans?"

With the Mcintosh Piano Competition finals underway, every contender eyed the championship throne. Alarieka’s striking attire unmistakably declared her ambition to win. Coupled with her stunning semifinal performance, she’d cemented herself as a formidable rival in everyone’s mind.

Yet Alarieka hadn’t considered any of that. She’d dressed beautifully solely to honor Lindsey Weaver’s “Aspiration,” ensuring the piece wouldn’t seem diminished during her performance. She’d rented this gown online for two thousand five hundred a day – delivered just last night. It was the finest tribute she could offer Lindsey.

Seated in the front row corner, Roschelle Whitaker’s expression darkened at the sight of Alarieka’s gown. She too wore emerald, though in a different design. While not a full clash, for Roschelle – who always looked down on Alarieka – it was deeply grating, especially after Alarieka’s outrageous demand for fifty million two nights prior. Roschelle’s disgust only intensified whenever she glanced at her.

Still…

Roschelle swiftly averted her gaze, lifting her chin. She recognized the brand of Alarieka’s dress – a moderately priced label. Her own gown, however, was a masterpiece from a high-end luxury brand, personally delivered from overseas by Kieran Argent. Priceless.

Alarieka was but dust beneath her feet – a mere toad to her swan, utterly insignificant.

Roschelle’s lips curled into a cold smile.