Chapter 64

Emma George was startled by the stormy look on Emily Blair’s face.
“Emily, what are you looking at? You look pale as a ghost.”
Emily snapped her phone shut, squeezing her eyes closed. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, as if something heavy pressed against her lungs, weighing her down until her blood turned to ice.
Emma reached out, resting a hand on her daughter’s arm. “Emily, what happened?”
Emily slowly opened her eyes. Her voice was hoarse. “It’s nothing. I just messed up a problem on my homework. Mom, could you leave me alone for a bit? I need to finish this.”
Emma gave her a doubtful look but quietly left the room.
As soon as the door closed, Emily locked it and reopened her phone.
The thread she’d been reading was overflowing with evidence—evidence that Vivian Martin and Isabella Austin were, in fact, the same person.
There were posts pointing out how Vivian Martin had never appeared in public, that she and Isabella were the same age, that they’d both been spotted in the same city at the same time.
People noticed that after Vivian died, Isabella burst onto the scene as a prodigy pianist almost overnight. Someone dug up an old social media post where Isabella had liked a photo from Vivian’s account years ago. There were even pictures of the two of them wearing identical outfits.
And then there was Vivian’s piece, “Desire.” It had been uploaded to a music platform three years ago, but barely anyone had listened to it—just a few hundred plays. How on earth did Isabella find and select such an obscure piece out of thousands of unheard piano works?
She had to have known about it already.
The blogger listed more and more evidence, each point drawing a sharper line between Isabella and Vivian—making it clear they were one and the same.
The more Emily read, the more she hated Isabella Austin.
Vivian’s “Desire” was practically unknown. How would Emily even know about it? Because Vivian Martin was her piano teacher.
Years ago, Emma had wanted Emily to develop a hobby, so she’d found Vivian Martin to give her lessons.
Almost no one knew that Vivian had been Emily’s teacher-Vivian was a nobody in the music world. She was only five years older than Emily, fresh out of college, struggling to find a job. The only work she could get was a handful of part-time gigs.
Vivian’s compositions never gained much attention; she’d never won any big competitions, so Emma was able to hire her for a modest fee.
Emily had spent over two years with Vivian. In that time, they’d met countless times,
talked about everything and anything, shared secrets and dreams.
Teacher and student didn’t really cover it-they were more like friends, like confidantes.
Vivian held nothing back, teaching Emily everything she knew.
But as time went on, Vivian became more withdrawn. Failure after failure wore her down, and sometimes Emily found her standing on the rooftop, lost in thought, sinking deeper into depression.
Emily had been terrified for her and secretly slipped money into Vivian’s bag, hoping it might help lift her spirits.
After composing “Desire,” Vivian took a fatal dose of sleeping pills one night, three years ago. She died before she even reached the hospital.
Emily had cried herself dry that day.
In her previous life, she’d dreamed of playing Vivian’s final piece at the school’s anniversary concert, to let the world hear her teacher’s last creation.
But Isabella Austin stole that chance from her, sabotaging her performance. Emily never got to play “Desire” for anyone.