Amidst the praise, Isabella lifted her chin slightly, revealing the slender, elegant line of her neck. A subtle, triumphant smile touched her lips.
“Inferior skills?”
Through the buzz of conversation, a girl's cool voice rang out faintly.
Her voice wasn't loud, but it effortlessly silenced all the murmuring.
Serena cast a lazy glance upward, her body slouched casually against the back of her chair. She took an unhurried sip of the lemonade Nicholas had specially prepared for her. Only then did she turn her cool, calm gaze to Karen.
Her lips curved. “If she’s won so many awards for piano,” she said in a cool voice, “how is her playing worse than that of an ordinary member of the International Music Association?”
Her eyes flicked toward Isabella. “Are the standards for piano competitions really that low these days?”
“What did you say?” Karen’s face changed. “Do you even know anything about piano to be critiquing her like that? Isabella has been studying since she was three. What right do you, a country nobody, have to question her?”
The two socialites couldn’t help but sneer. “I’ve studied piano for ten years, and I know how breathtaking Isabella’s performance was. You talk about us being jealous… I think you’re the one who’s twisted with jealousy!”
“Every socialite here has studied piano! Even Mr. Kessler from the International Music Association didn’t say a word, but you’re the first one to start squawking!”
“Isabella, this girl from the countryside loves to pretend she knows things, isn't it laughable?”
Isabella’s fingers trembled almost imperceptibly. Her eyes instinctively darted to Serena, her pupils constricting for a moment in shock.
Serena… What did she mean? Had she actually heard something?

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABEL
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: Messing With Her? Are You Crazy!