Today was the best day of Melody's life.
The Grand Opera—her dream—was finally here. She had waited for this night for three whole months, counting down each day with growing anticipation. And now, at last, the moment had arrived.
This was her chance—to be crowned the best soprano in the country. The entire elite would be in attendance. Age, status, rank—none of it mattered. All eyes would be on her.
The show was set to begin at 8 PM.
At exactly 6 PM, Melody left with Charlotte for the grand event at Rosewood Rosel Opera House.
Melody could barely contain her excitement as they arrived. She was ushered into the dressing room, where a team pampered her: styling her hair, painting her nails, perfecting her makeup. She looked radiant in a lavish, royal blue gown that shimmered under the lights.
Yet her words weren't as graceful as her appearance.
"Charlotte, don't mess this up."
"I don't care if you do it intentionally or by mistake. You have to sing. Gracefully. You don't have a choice."
Her voice was cold. Arrogant. Sharp.
Charlotte merely nodded.
"Okay, Melody. I won't mess things up."
Thirty minutes later, the spotlight bathed the stage. The music began.
Melody stepped forward, composed and stunning.
She began to lipsync—flawlessly. Her movements were elegant, confident. Not a soul could tell it wasn't her voice echoing through the opera house.
But then—there was no voice.
The music played, but Charlotte wasn't singing.
Melody froze. Her breath caught in her throat. Panic flickered in her eyes.
Then—Charlotte stepped on stage.
And began to sing.
**Her voice—pure, powerful, unmistakable—**filled the theatre. The audience was mesmerized, enchanted by the voice they had always thought belonged to Melody.
Melody stood paralyzed. Her heart sank. Her vision blurred. Mascara streamed down her cheeks, staining her flawless makeup. The illusion shattered.
She ran offstage—humiliated, broken, exposed.
Backstage, she collapsed to the floor in her ruined gown, sobbing uncontrollably, her chest heaving in panic.
Charlotte finished the performance to a standing ovation.
When she came backstage, she found Melody collapsed, shaking and gasping for air, in the middle of a full-blown panic attack.
Melody looked up, her face twisted in pain and betrayal.
"WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT TO ME?!
I'M YOUR SISTER, CHARLOTTE! Even if we're half-sisters...
HOW COULD YOU?!"
She clutched at her chest, sobbing.
"You stole my dream... my voice...
You took everything from me... Why?! Why would you do this?!"
Charlotte's expression was cold. Resentful.
"You took everything from me, Melody.
That voice you paraded around as yours? It was mine.
The fame, the praise, the spotlight—it was all mine from the beginning.
And now you want to talk about dreams? My soprano dream was crushed the day you started using my voice like a tool.
You never cared. Why should I?"
Melody's body trembled. Her tears wouldn't stop. Her breath grew shallow—and then everything went dark.
She fainted.
David rushed her to the hospital. She was admitted immediately—her body and mind overwhelmed. She remained there for four days.
Midnight.
David stormed into the house, fury boiling in his chest. He barged into Charlotte's room.
She was curled up on her bed, reading peacefully.
His anger erupted.
"CHARLOTTE ROSEWOOD!
You gave Melody a brutal panic attack! She's in the hospital because of you!
She's your sister! How could you do that to her?!"
Charlotte calmly closed her book, clearly annoyed by his outburst.
"Why the hell are you acting like that wasn't my voice out there?"
"You and Melody have been stealing my voice for years—using me for her fake fame.
Melody can't sing. Her voice is nails on a chalkboard, and you know it."
David's eyes narrowed.
"So what? She's your sister. She has the right to use it."
Charlotte's voice cracked with rage.
"Who gave her that right?!
Who gave her permission to use me like that?
To silence my dreams so she could live hers?!"
David lost it.
"SHUT THE HELL UP, CHARLOTTE!
You're the mistress's daughter—the daughter of our dead father's shame.
Be grateful we even let you live under the same roof as us!"
He slammed the door and stormed away, leaving Charlotte frozen in disbelief.
That sentence. That tone. That truth.
Cut deeper than any betrayal before.
She sat motionless. A long, bitter silence filled the room.
Then, slowly, she whispered to herself, voice low and trembling:
"As you wish, David...
You'll be next. You asked for this—my beloved brother."
Her eyes darkened.
A soft, sinister smile played on her lips.
"I won't spare any of you."