The young woman had struck gold—her new husband came from old money, the kind that could trace its lineage back to royalty.

To ensure Alexander Blackwood would stop bothering her, she returned every penny he'd ever given her, settling all debts from when she'd been desperate. But was money really what Alexander cared about?

He'd poured his soul into their relationship—countless hours, emotional investment, only to become nothing more than a rung on her social climbing ladder.

From that day forward, Alexander developed a visceral distaste for the concept of "trophy wives." In his mind, a woman who hadn't touched her violin in half a decade—no matter how brilliant she once was—would have lost all that made her special.

With a weary exhale, Alexander accepted he might never find the musician he'd been searching for.

He pushed back his chair abruptly. "If that's how it is, then this conversation is over."

Seeing him prepare to leave, Victoria Langley rushed to intercept him.

"Mr. Blackwood, I actually studied under her at the Royal Solmaris Conservatory. Might you... consider giving me an opportunity?"

Alexander's response was clinical. "Had you graduated from the Royal Solmaris with a personal recommendation from Dominic Whitmore himself, perhaps. But Solmaris Conservatory..."

His dismissive headshake said everything. "I'm afraid that won't do."

It wasn't that Alexander looked down on Solmaris Conservatory. Simply put, in his experience, true musical geniuses always left their mark in the institution's Hall of Honors.

He'd never encountered Victoria's name in those hallowed halls. No whispers among the faculty.

Talent? She likely possessed none worth mentioning.

Victoria's cheeks burned with humiliation at being dismissed without even a moment's consideration. Tears shimmered in her eyes as she turned a pleading gaze toward Nathan Prescott, her expression the picture of wounded vulnerability.

Nathan's brow furrowed before he approached Alexander.

"Alexander, if you'd give Victoria a chance, I'd consider it a personal favor."

Alexander remained unmoved. "Nathan, many people want me indebted to them. If I took on every protégé offered as a 'favor,' I'd have apprentices in every corner of the globe."

His blunt refusal left both Nathan and Victoria visibly uncomfortable.

Yet Alexander was no fool—he knew when to soften his stance with those who mattered.

He offered a conciliatory nod. "However, I am assembling a new cohort for my upcoming masterclass. Ms. Langley, if you believe in your abilities, you're welcome to audition. Should you impress, I'll gladly reconsider."

With that final word, he took his leave.

Meanwhile, at an upscale café, Amy Sinclair studied the distinguished man seated across from her—his composed demeanor giving nothing away.

"Dominic, you summoned me here so urgently—what couldn't wait?" The previous night, Dominic Whitmore had called Amy out of the blue, insisting on an immediate meeting while refusing to elaborate over the phone.

Truthfully, Amy's feelings toward Dominic were conflicted.

She'd once respected him deeply—he'd been her sole defender during her public disgrace.

But after his recent deception, something between them fractured. She understood his intentions, but couldn't tolerate being manipulated "for her own good."

Dominic's rich baritone broke through her thoughts.

"Is it true—you're divorcing Alexander?"

It wasn't exactly a secret; even Nathan Prescott knew.

Amy saw no reason to deny it. "Yes, I've filed the paperwork. Thirty days from now, it'll be official."

Dominic's expression darkened. "Celeste, the reason I needed to see you... Alexander and Nathan—they're already plotting against you. Leaving won't be as simple as you think."