The real estate agency office reeked of cheap air freshener and desperation. Elena sat behind a pile of expired property listings, the cold telephone receiver pressed against her ear, trying to sell a leaky attic in Queens to a client whose budget would barely cover a garage.

"Yes, ma'am, the ventilation is excellent, you can practically experience all four seasons indoors." Her voice was hoarse.


Hanging up the phone, she looked out the window at the low-hanging gray sky over Queens. Each day was a slow torture of patience.

Returning home and shoving open the door that never quite closed right, another sound cut through everything. That voice, pure and soaring, rising from their tiny apartment.

It was Maya singing.


Elena's daughter, Maya, possessed everything that Elena had lost. She stood by the window, her thin shoulders rising and falling with her breath, singing an aria that Elena had never heard before. There was a melancholy and power in her voice that didn't belong to someone her age.

"What is this?" Elena asked, trying to mask the weariness in her voice.


"It's the audition piece for Vanguard Academy this year, Mom." She turned around, her eyes bright. "They announced it on their official website yesterday."

Vanguard Academy. These words pierced through Elena's long-sealed memories.

"I've told you, Maya, we are not going there," Elena's tone instantly hardened.

"Why?" The light in her face dimmed. "They're the best, Mom. Their scholarship can cover all tuition fees, as long as I can pass the selection..."

"There's no reason why!" Elena interrupted her, her voice sharper than she had intended.

Elena turned and walked into the kitchen, her back to her daughter, not wanting Maya to see the flash of terror on her face. Vanguard Academy was Cassandra Sterling's territory. The woman who had destroyed her vocal cords, destroyed her life, was now the heir to the academy's board of directors, a queen on high.

Elena would forever remember that rainy night, backstage, when Cassandra viciously smashed the crystal trophy that should have been hers against her throat. The doctors said permanent damage to her vocal cords; her opera career, along with that full scholarship, had ended the moment speaking caused her tearing pain.

She couldn't let Maya go to that place. It wasn't a sanctuary, it was a slaughterhouse.

But Maya didn't give up. She secretly applied, using her saved pocket money. By the time Elena found out, she had already received the email confirming she had passed the preliminary selection.

Looking at her face, filled with both fear and hope, all of Elena's objections seemed so weak and futile. She was Elena's only hope, and she couldn't bring herself to clip her wings, even if dangers lay ahead.

On the day of the selection, Elena accompanied her. Vanguard Academy was located in the Upper East Side, every brick exuding an aura of money and power. It was just as Elena remembered it, arrogant and cold.

Maya stood at the center of the stage. But when the music started and she began to sing, the entire hall fell silent. Her voice filled the whole space, displaying a gift that transcended technique.

Elena noticed Cassandra Sterling on the judges' panel. She appeared more elegant and dignified than years before, with a hint of languid weariness on her well-maintained face. But by the thirtieth second of Maya's song, she sat up straight.

Elena saw a flash of the same undisguised amazement in her eyes that Elena herself had experienced years ago, but immediately after, that amazement transformed into something darker. It was jealousy, vigilance, a kind of irritated offense.

She recognized Elena. Despite Elena sitting in the last row, despite her wearing the most inconspicuous clothes, she still recognized Elena. Her gaze traveled across the entire auditorium and landed on Elena's face.

At that moment, Elena knew everything was over.

The result of the final interview was a foregone conclusion. Maya was eliminated. The reason given was "emotional expression still lacks maturity."

And that admission spot was given to Cassandra's daughter, Celeste. A girl with mediocre singing skills who was off-key throughout, yet received everything because of her mother's last name.

Maya didn't cry on the subway home; she just silently stared at the darkness rapidly receding outside the window.

And in Elena's heart, that volcano suppressed for over a decade finally began to erupt.

She took Maya home, then took a taxi directly back to Manhattan. She rushed into Vanguard Academy and barged into Cassandra's top-floor office that overlooked the entire Central Park.

She was leisurely sipping red tea, and seeing Elena burst in, her face showed no surprise, only a trace of contempt for being disturbed by someone beneath her.

"Do you need something, Elena?" She didn't even stand up. "If it's about your daughter, I can only say it's unfortunate. She does have some talent, but not enough."

"Not enough?" Elena's entire body was shaking, not from fear, but from anger. "Not qualified enough, or not rich enough? Or is it just because she is my daughter?"

Cassandra put down her teacup and finally looked directly at Elena. "Well, since you insist on being confrontational," she wiped the corner of her mouth methodically, "yes, it's precisely because she is your daughter. I will not allow your offspring to once again stand in the position that should belong to my daughter."

Her candid admission extinguished the last bit of Elena's rationality.

"You destroyed me, and now you want to destroy her," Elena walked toward her step by step, her voice low. "Are you that afraid? Afraid that those with real talent will take away everything you obtained merely through inheritance?"

"This is not about fear, this is about rules." She leaned back in her chair, looking down at Elena. "This is how the world works. Some people are born with everything, while others, like you and your daughter, are destined to have nothing."

Elena's gaze swept across her office, finally landing on the highest shelf of the display cabinet behind her.

It was that crystal trophy. That trophy which had been snatched from Elena's hands years ago, now displayed as her trophy, gleaming under the lights.

In that instant, a crazy thought formed in Elena's mind.

Before Cassandra could react, Elena lunged forward, grabbed the heavy trophy, and without hesitation, dragged its sharpest edge across her own neck.

The movement was quick.

Cassandra jumped up from her chair in shock, showing terror on her face for the first time.

"You're insane!" she screamed.

Elena ignored her. Warm blood immediately gushed out, flowing down her neck and staining her white shirt red. It was a scorching, iron-scented liberation. The pain was real, but her mind had never been clearer.

She held up the trophy smeared with her own blood, pointing it at the dumbfounded Cassandra.

"Now, you have two choices," Elena's voice was hoarse from the wound, yet carried a power that couldn't be ignored. "One, let Maya enroll. Two, I jump out of this beautiful floor-to-ceiling window of yours."

She pulled open her collar, exposing the hideous wound more clearly before Cassandra. "Tomorrow's headlines in all newspapers will read—'Desperate mother condemns Vanguard Academy's dark secrets with her death, soprano singer Cassandra Sterling accused of driving former rival to death'."

Elena smiled, watching her face instantly turn pale. "Guess what will happen to the academy's reputation and those donations from your wealthy friends? Guess whether your mediocre daughter can still stand confidently on stage bearing the title 'daughter of a murderer'?"

She looked at Elena. Her lips trembled, unable to utter a single word. Her theory about the rules of the world crumbled helplessly in the face of Elena's splattered blood.

"Anya Petrova is dead." She finally squeezed out a few words through her teeth, her voice dry.

Elena didn't know who that was, nor did she care.

"Her scholarship position has become available." She took a deep breath. "I can let Maya enroll as an alternate candidate. But you must disappear immediately, take care of your wound, and pretend that everything today never happened."

Elena looked at her, knowing she had won. In the most devastating way.

She got eleven stitches in the emergency room. The doctor said she was lucky - half a centimeter deeper, and it would have cut her carotid artery.

When Elena dragged her exhausted body back home, Maya was sitting in front of the computer. On her face was a careful radiance that Elena hadn't seen for a long time.

"Mom," she turned to look at Elena, with disbelieving joy in her voice, "I received an email from the academy... they said I've been accepted."

Elena walked behind her and looked at the official acceptance notification on the screen. In the "Waitlist Reason" column, it coldly stated: Due to the accidental death of the original scholarship recipient Anya Petrova, the position has been extended to the next candidate.

Anya Petrova. This name made Elena's temple suddenly throb. Some blurry images flashed through her mind—a dim hallway, screams, and something slipping from her hands—but she immediately suppressed them, unwilling to think about it. The memory of that night was like looking through a layer of fog; she only remembered receiving an anonymous text message, then rushing like a madwoman to Paradise Tower, after which everything became fragmented.

She reached out, wanting to embrace her daughter, but in the end only gently patted her head.

The bandage on her neck gave a stinging pain, reminding her of the price of this victory. She had won a future for her daughter, paid with her own blood and the death of an innocent girl.