My Coldhearted Ex demands a Remarriage by Eva Blackwood

Chapter 1054:

Something was off. The melody… it was too familiar. What started as vague déjà vu soon settled into certainty. Carrie’s composition mirrored Aliza’s earlier performance—too closely.

The phrasing, the rhythm, even the subtle harmonic turns bore a startling resemblance. At least seventy percent, if not more. Yes, Carrie’s execution was more polished, more technically controlled. But Aliza had played first. To the audience, that made all the difference.

In their eyes, Aliza had introduced the style. Carrie’s performance, though beautiful, now carried the heavy shadow of imitation. And imitation, no matter how refined, could not steal the crown from originality.

The judges exchanged glances. Silent, but telling. One shook his head ever so slightly; another let out a slow breath.

They made no move to interrupt—not because of Luca Morrison’s influence as president of the Music Association, and certainly not to favor his family—but out of respect for the art itself. They would listen to the piece in full. The music deserved that much.

Luca’s status, the Association’s judgments remained public, subject to scrutiny. The Morrison name carried weight, but

the competitors—would not still be just

storm brewing in the room. Her fingers glided, her brow slightly furrowed in concentration. To her,

second passed. Then Arion clapped once, sharply, breaking the stillness. A smattering of applause followed—scattered, hesitant, and far from enthusiastic. The clapping felt obligatory. Thin smiles masked the unease rippling across the crowd. Whispers followed in

tales at

the back row, Aliza exhaled quietly and leaned back, a wisp of a smile curling

out of reverence or fear. But she had underestimated the audience’s pride in their artistry. These were musicians, composers—people who held music sacred. Plagiarism, to them, was not a minor sin. It was a stain. And she knew—should anything go

tepid. Polite, at best. She had played beautifully—she knew that. Perhaps not awe-inspiring, but solid. Balanced. It should not have

for clues. Then she caught it—someone had murmured Aliza’s name. And Randell’s. A cold thread of

performed something similar? Was that the