Married for Revenge: The Perfect Lie

She leaned in close enough for me to smell the malice on her breath.

It doesn't matter what you do, she whispered, her voice dripping with poison. Youll never be my equal. Not in business. Not in bed.

It was my wedding day. The venue screamed old money. Standing at the altar was Montgomerymy childhood sweetheart, the heir to the dynasty. And my nemesis had just strutted in, wearing a custom couture gown worth more than a starter home, desperate to hijack the spotlight.

Classic move.

I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I just offered her a gentle smile.

My fingers brushed a black stone from the decorative table beside me. With a casual flick of my wrist, I tossed it into the trash can.

Clack.

"Checkmate," I said, my voice smooth as silk. "Youre off the board."

She had no idea.

She saw a rivalry. I saw the endgame.

For ten years, Ive lived in the shadows. I buried my name. I cauterized my past. I reconstructed my entire identity for one singular purpose: to marry the son of the enemy.

The Montgomery family thinks theyre gaining a perfect daughter-in-law.

Theyre wrong. Theyre welcoming their executioner.

Chapter 1

Bankruptcy shattered my world first. The suicide pact silenced it forever.

One night, I was a beloved daughter. The next, I was an orphan, standing in the wreckage of a life that no longer existed.

Charlotte died that night. Margot was born.

My parents best friends, the Mengs, took me in. Andrew and Patricia. They had no children of their own, so they poured their grief and love into me like I was a cracked vessel they were desperate to fill. I grew up wrapped in their warmth, but underneath, the ice had already set in.

I was ten years old when I identified the target.

It was a gala. The air smelled of expensive perfume and entitlement. Then, the doors opened, and the room seemed to tilt. Gravity shifted toward them.

The Montgomerys.

Lawrence, the patriarch. Eleanor, the matriarch. And Montgomery, the golden boy. They were the apex predators of the city. The First Family of wealth.

One look was all it took. The plan didn't form in my head; it arrived fully formed, cold and absolute.

I wasn't going to just survive. I was going to infiltrate. I would marry into the Montgomery dynasty, and I would become its master.

From that moment on, I didn't live. I performed.

I treated my life like a military operation. My etiquette had to be flawless. My grades, untouchable. My smile was calibrated to the millimeterperfect, disarming, fake.

Years bled into a decade. The rumors started to circulate in the high-society circles. Margot. That girl. The perfect child.

The bait was in the water.

Eleanor Montgomery bit first. She started dropping vague hints about marriage, testing the waters.

Patricia followed my script perfectly. She played the reluctant mother. "She's still young," shed say, deflecting the offers. "We aren't thinking about marriage yet."

But in private, Patricia looked at me with confusion clouding her eyes.

"Margot," she asked, "isn't this exactly what you wanted?"

I thought back to that banquet. The arrogant boredom in Montgomerys eyes when we were kids.

"Patricia," I said, a cold smile touching my lips. "I don't just need Eleanors approval. I need Montgomerys heart."

The power dynamic had to be precise. The disparity between the Meng family and the Montgomery empire was vast. If I seemed too eager, Id look like a gold digger. A climber.

More importantly, Eleanor was obsessed with her son. A total boy mom. If she loved me but Montgomery was indifferent, it was game over. I don't waste time on losing bets.

I needed him to want me. Obsessively.

Graduation came. I was top of my class. I could have gone anywhere. The Ivy Leagues were waiting.

I declined them all.

Instead, I enrolled in the same university as Montgomery.

Why?

Because of Montgomery.

He wasn't brilliant. He was rich. The Montgomerys had practically bought a new library just to slide him through admissions.

Andrew, who usually let me have my way, finally snapped.

"No."

He slammed his hand on the table. It was the first time hed ever denied me anything. He confiscated my phone. He locked me in my room. "You are not throwing your future away for him," he shouted through the door.

I didn't argue. I didn't bang on the wood. I just stopped eating.

One day. Two days. The hunger turned into a dull roar, then a dizzying void.

When I finally collapsed, darkness encroaching on my peripheral vision, the lock clicked.

Andrew rushed in. He looked at my pale face, and I saw the fight leave his body. He was broken.

"Margot" His voice cracked, thick with pain. He sat beside me, helpless. "Please. Just forget the past. Let it go. Just live your life."

Chapter 2

I gripped Andrews hand. My fingers dug into his skin, not out of fear, but to anchor myself. My eyes were dry.

"I can't forget, Andrew. I can't forget how they backed my father into a corner. I can't forget the night I became an orphan."

I looked him dead in the eye.

"Im not just living. Im hunting."

I didn't meet Montgomery until two weeks into the semester at the university.

I walked into the lecture hall, spotting the empty seat next to him. I slid into it and deployed the smile Id spent ten years perfecting in front of a mirror. "Nice to meet you."

Montgomery didn't even look up at first. When he finally did, his gaze was a physical shove. He looked me up and down, his lip curling in disgust.

"Beat it, ugly."

The guys surrounding him erupted into laughter. A chorus of sycophants.

Montgomery leaned back, his eyes glinting with cruelty. He was waiting for the show. He wanted me to flush red. He wanted me to grab my bag and run, or better yet, cry.

I let the silence stretch for a beat.

Then, I laughed. A bright, unbothered sound.

"Ugly?" I tilted my head, widening my eyes just enough to feign innocence. "Thats strange. I actually think Im quite beautiful."

Montgomery blinked. The script had flipped. He wasn't used to resistance, especially not the smiling kind.

I held his gaze, my expression clear and guileless. "Though," I added, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "I have to admit Im definitely not as good-looking as you."

He paused.

He glanced at me, assessing the threat level. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he waved his entourage away. He didn't say anything, but the tension in his shoulders dropped.

Narcissists are predictable. You can call them arrogant, but you cant deny their vanity. Especially a boy like Montgomery, whos been told hes Gods gift since birth.

I settled into the chair beside him and turned my body toward him.

"Its an honor to sit next to the best-looking guy in the room," I said. "Im Margot. And you are?"

He spun his pen between his fingers. A nervous tic? Or just boredom?

"Montgomery," he grunted, like he was doing me a favor.

Suddenly, movement outside the window caught his eye.

A girl was practically skipping across the quad. Vibrant. Messy. Alive.

Montgomery abruptly stood up and bolted out of the room without a backward glance.

I watched him run. My eyes narrowed into slits.

Zoe.

Id done my research the day I arrived.

Zoe was the scholarship kid. Poor background, high grades, heart of gold. The classic Cinderella setup.

A billionaire heir and a girl from the wrong side of the tracks. If this were a fairytale, theyd overcome obstacles and find true love.

And it seemed to be working. In just two weeks, Zoe had already snagged his attention.

Too bad for them. I wasn't here to watch a fairytale. I was here to burn the book.

Their story ends now.

Mine begins.

Chapter 3

I didn't make a move immediately. I played the long game.

I focused on my coursework, maintaining a perfect GPA. I launched my campaign for Student Body President.

Zoe was running, too. Of course she was.

While I organized campaign materials, the gossip floated around me like static. Montgomery and Zoe were fighting. Montgomery and Zoe made up. Cold wars. Passionate reunions.

The rocky road of young love.

One afternoon, I was working in the study hall when Montgomery sat down. He was brooding, spinning that expensive fountain pen again.

"Tell me," he said, staring at the ink cartridge. "Do you think I'm just a loser who relies on his family for everything?"

I stopped writing.

The air in the room grew heavy. This was a test.

I looked at him, my expression unreadable.

"You do rely on your family," I said calmly.

Montgomerys jaw tightened. The truth hit him like a physical blow, and he looked ready to flip the table.

I didn't flinch. I just leaned in, voice low and steady.

"Be honest, Montgomery. Did your GPA get you into this university? Or was it the library your father donated?"

The fight drained out of him. His shoulders slumped, his expression collapsing into something raw and painful. He knew it. Everyone knew it.

I let the silence hang for exactly three seconds. Then, I smiled. Not a mocking smile, but a soft, knowing one.

"But that doesn't make you a fraud."

He looked up, blinking in confusion.

I widened my eyes, injecting just the right amount of awe into my gaze. "I saw your records from the National Go Championships. The way you play youre a strategist. You dominated that circuit."

Montgomerys eyes lit up. The transformation was instantshock, followed by a rush of dopamine. "You you know I play Go?"

People assumed Montgomery was just a nepo baby who bought his way into the Ivy League. But I knew the truth. He was a recruit. A prodigy in strategy games.

Years ago, Eleanor had mentioned his obsession in passing. I filed it away. I studied the game for months, memorizing openings and endgames, just for this specific moment.

"Know it?" I let out a self-deprecating laugh. "I had the honor of playing against you once in a junior league. You obliterated me. I haven't had the courage to touch a board since."

Flattery is a weapon. But genuine, specific admiration from a girl? Thats a nuke.

The walls came down.

"Its not that scary," he said, his voice eager, almost boyish. "I can teach you."

"Really?" I beamed. "Is that a promise?"

I tilted my head so the afternoon sun hit my face perfectly. I knew exactly how I lookedradiant, harmless, like a flower in full bloom.

I saw the catch in his breath. The dilation of his pupils.

Got him.

From that day on, the Go board became our third wheel.

Montgomery was a different person when he played. Focused. Sharp. His eyes burned with an intensity that usually only appeared when he was angry. He loved the game.

And because I was a quick studydisplaying just enough "latent talent" to keep him interestedhis attitude toward me softened. The "ugly" comments stopped. We were partners.

But proximity breeds contempt.

The campus gossip mill started churning.

Anonymous Post: Anyone else see the new girl throwing herself at Montgomery? Looks like someones trying to be a homewrecker.

Reply: Isn't he with Zoe? Yikes. Red flag.

The word "Mistress" floated around the forums.

I played the victim perfectly. I let the rumors affect me. I grew quiet, withdrawn. I started avoiding the library where we usually met.

Montgomery cornered me after a lecture one afternoon. He gripped my arm, stopping me in the hallway.

"Zoe and I," he whispered, glancing around nervously. "We aren't dating."

I looked at his hand on my arm, then up at his eyes. I didn't say a word. I just pulled away and walked off.

Montgomery was loud. He was arrogant. If he truly didn't care about Zoe, he would have shouted it from the rooftops. He would have laughed off the rumors.

But he whispered.

He was protecting her. He didn't want the scrutiny on her.

In his hierarchy, Zoe was still at the top.

I finally met her face-to-face during the Student Council election debates.

Zoe.

Up close, she was undeniably striking. Her beauty was undeniable. But her words were sharp, defensive. She cornered me backstage, her chin tilted up in defiance.

"You're wasting your time," she sneered. "You aren't my opponent. Not in this election, and definitely not with him."

She didn't wait for a response. She spun on her heel and stormed off, hair whipping behind her like a cape.

I watched her go, my expression flat.

She thought this was a competition. She thought we were rivals.

She had no idea she was already playing my game.

Chapter 4

Was that a declaration of war?

Or was she just baiting me?

I watched Zoe storm off, her silhouette cutting through the backstage shadows. I couldn't calculate the source of her audacity. Where did she get the nerve?

The answer came the next day.

Montgomery made his move. He officially asked Zoe out. In front of everyone.

And Zoe? She shot him down.

"I need to focus on my studies," she said.

A rejection. A classic hard-to-get power play.

It worked for her. But for me? It was a social death sentence.

I became the punchline of the entire campus.

The desperate one. The pick-me girl. The simp. The whispers followed me everywhere. In the lecture hall, rows of backs turned against me. In the library, giggles erupted behind raised hands whenever I walked by.

"Did you hear? She chased him for weeks, and he went for the scholarship kid."

I let the humiliation fester. I let it be seen.

Then, I pulled the ripcord. Citing "acute mental exhaustion," I withdrew from classes.

Andrew picked me up in the family sedan. The leather seat was cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the burning shame Id been projecting for the public.

"Is this part of the script?" Andrew asked, watching me in the rearview mirror.

I didn't explain. I just offered a tired, hollow smile.

"Andrew," I said softly. "It's your turn. Cue the lights."

The Mengs threw a gala for Patricias birthday.

It was the event of the season. The driveway was a parking lot for Rolls Royces and Bentleys. Every power player in the city was there.

Usually, Montgomery ghosted these events. Eleanor would laugh it off with a wave of her diamond-clad hand. "He's just difficult," shed say. "He hates crowds."

But tonight?

He walked through the front door.

He found me on the terrace overlooking the gardens. I was staring at the water, detached.

"Margot!" His voice was breathless. He rushed over, relief washing over his features. "I"

I cut him off with a look. It wasn't angry. It was arctic.

"Montgomery."

I dropped the nickname. No "Monty." No playful teasing. Just his name, stripped of all warmth.

He froze. His mouth hung open slightly. He wasn't used to the ice.

"Margot" He faltered, then tried to recover. "When are you coming back to campus?"

I tilted my head. I resurrected that smile from our first meeting. The one that looked like sunshine but felt like glass.

Innocent. Clear. Unreachable.

"I don't know," I said, my voice airy. "Maybe when the mood strikes."

I reached out to the stone table beside us, where a Go board was set up for guests. I placed a single black stone on the grid with a sharp click.

Then I turned and walked away.

At the corner of the terrace, I glanced back.

Montgomery was standing there, paralyzed. He was staring at the board. His eyes were locked on the stone Id placed.

I suppressed a smirk.

He should stare. That was a move from a game we had analyzed for hours. A move that signaled a trap.

The package arrived the next morning.

A book. Heavy. Hardcover. The Encyclopedia of Go.

It was his bible. The one book he refused to lend to anyone. I opened the cover. A note slipped out, the handwriting jagged and hurried.

I'll fix the mood.

Twenty-four hours later, the hammer dropped.

Montgomery didn't just ask for an apology. He went nuclear.

He hired a top-tier firm and sent a cease-and-desist letter to the source of the rumors.

The source was Kelsie. Zoe's roommate.

She panicked. She hadn't expected a billionaire heir to lawyer up over a campus forum post. Terrified, she ran to Zoe, begging for cover, begging for help.

It didn't work.

By the afternoon, a public apology was pinned to the top of the school forum. Kelsie admitted to fabricating the "homewrecker" narrative.

The whispers died instantly. The atmosphere on campus shifted from mockery to fear.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand.

A WeChat message from Montgomery.

It's handled. You coming back?

I looked at the screen. The blue light reflected in my eyes.

I didn't answer his question.

Instead, I sent a photo of a cloudless blue sky.

I kept him on the hook.

Chapter 5

Kittens. Puppies. A photo of a cloudless blue sky.

We didn't talk about the rumors or the lawsuit. We traded slices of life over WeChat. Digital breadcrumbs leading him back to me. It felt harmless. It felt intimate.

By the time I returned to campus, the "depression" narrative had served its purpose. I was rested, ready, and just in time for the main event.

The Student Body President election.

Final round.

It was just me and Zoe.

She stood at the other podium, radiating the kind of confidence that usually comes right before a fall. Her eyes locked on mine, burning with the certainty of victory. Ive got this, her posture screamed.

I didn't engage. I looked past her.

I looked at Montgomery.

He was sitting in the front row, the VIP section. He was waiting expectantly for the result.

Young love is always fanatical when its unrequited. But fanatical doesn't mean it lasts.

Who are you going to pick, Montgomery?

When he caught my gaze, he flinched. He looked down at his shoes.

I offered a small, sad smile.

I knew exactly what was coming.

"Montgomery casts his vote for Zoe."

The auditorium erupted. The oohs and aahs echoed off the walls. The girls in the back row squealed, witnessing their favorite "bad boy loves good girl" trope play out in real time. They were shipping it. Hard.

I didn't break character.

I let the blood drain from my face. My shoulders slumped just enough to suggest a heavy heart, not a broken spirit. I stared at him, my eyes glassy, projecting a silent, devastating message.

You said youd make me happy.

You lied.

He saw it. Panic flashed across his face. He shrank into his collar, unable to hold the weight of my disappointment.

Zoe saw the interaction. She saw the crowd on her side. She leaned over, her voice low so only I could hear. "I told you," she whispered, the triumph dripping from her words. "You aren't my opponent. Youre just humiliating yourself."

Self-humiliation?

I looked at her, widening my eyes in mock surprise. Then, the mask slipped. I gave her a smile that was all teeth and zero warmth.

"The game isn't over," I said softly. "And the only one embarrassed here is you."

Screech.

The feedback from the microphone cut through the noise. The Head of Student Affairs cleared his throat.

"And the winner, by majority vote of the student body and faculty board, is"

A pause.

"Margot."

The applause was polite, confused, then thunderous as my supporters realized what happened.

I adjusted my blazer. I maintained that perfect, elegant smile as I walked past Zoes frozen figure. I leaned in one last time.

"You lost."

There was a reason I arrived at school two weeks late.

It wasn't mental health. It wasn't exhaustion.

It was due diligence.

The day before the semester started, I caught wind of the dynamic between Montgomery and Zoe. Montgomery was arrogant, entitled, and explosive. Yet, he let this scholarship girl disrespect him repeatedly.

Thats not a crush. Thats history.

I don't walk into a room blindly. So, I hired a private investigator.

The report was thorough.

Years ago, Montgomery was sent to a rural summer camp to "build character." That village was Zoes hometown. They spent two months together.

They were childhood friends.

The psychology was simple. As Montgomery grew up, the walls of the dynasty closed in on him. Rules. Expectations. Pressure. He didn't love Zoe; he was obsessed with the freedom she represented. She was his nostalgia trigger.

I couldn't fight a memory. If I had intervened early, I would have been the villain keeping them apart.

So, I waited.

I let them reunite. I let them have their bickering phase. I let the "destiny" narrative play out.

And then, I entered the chat.

I positioned myself as the Upgrade.

I knew his hobbies better than she did. My worldview aligned with his reality, not his fantasy. I was beautiful, poised, andcruciallyI belonged in his world.

I wasn't the girl who reminded him of a summer camp. I was the woman who could rule the empire beside him.

Besides

I glanced back at Zoe, who was staring at Montgomery with a complicated expression.

Did the Cinderella girl actually like the Prince? Or did she just like winning?

Chapter 6

Lets be real.

A guy like Montgomeryheir to an empire, devastatingly handsome, and eager to pleasethrows himself at you, and you feel nothing?

Please.

If she was truly uninterested, she would have cut the cord. Instead, she kept the line taut.

She accepted the gifts. She let him bring her morning coffee. She accepted the late-night snack runs.

Was she holding onto a childhood memory? Or was she addicted to the adrenaline of stringing him along, basking in the envy of every other girl on campus?

Honestly, I didn't care which one it was.

The rumors that supposedly "ruined" my reputation? The whispers that were meant to cost me the election? They were background noise.

Zoe didn't understand the economics of popularity. Breadcrumbing a man like Montgomery is a high-risk investment. The returns are volatile.

Not everyone wants to see Cinderella get the Prince. Most people want to see the glass slipper shatter.

Besides, look at the stats. My grades. My accolades. My pedigree.

I knew from the moment the ballots were printed.

This wasn't an election. It was a chess match.

And I had checkmated her before the first pawn even moved.

The presidency wasn't just a title; it was a grind.

The transition of power was messy. Files to organize, budgets to balance, egos to stroke. But I had rehearsed this. I treated the Student Council like a corporate boardroom. No chaos. No drama. Just efficiency.

The members who were initially skeptical fell in line. Competence is the ultimate silencer.

Zoe, the runner-up, was offered the Vice Presidency. She declined.

Instead, she pivoted. She took the chair position for the Arts & Culture Committee.

I signed off on it, but it gnawed at me. The Arts Committee was usually reserved for the virtuososthe pianists who played Carnegie Hall at twelve, the ballerinas, the painters.

Zoe had zero artistic talent. What was the play?

I was deep in a budget proposal when a sudden, cold sensation on the back of my hand snapped me back to reality.

I looked up.

Montgomery was looming over my desk, looking like a pouting child.

"You've been so busy playing boss you haven't had time to play me," he grumbled.

I didn't flinch. I picked up a white stone and placed it on the board we kept in the corner of the office.

Clack.

"You don't need me as an opponent right now," I said, offering a faint, teasing smile. "I thought you had a girl to chase."

The playfulness vanished from his face. A shadow passed over his eyes.

"She rejected me," he muttered. "Again."

"Twice?"

"Yeah."

I knew. Id seen it yesterday from the second-floor balcony. I watched him pour his heart out, and I watched her shut him down with the "I need to focus on my studies" card.

He had looked devastated. Like a golden retriever kicked out into the rain.

"I don't get it," he said, slumping into the chair opposite me. "She acts like she likes me. We have moments. But every time I try to make it real, she pushes me away."

Hard to get. Classic manipulation.

God, he was dense.

I looked at himreally looked at him. Lawrence and Eleanor were sharks. They could smell blood in the water from a mile away. How did they raise a son who was this oblivious to emotional bait?

While he was staring at the ceiling, lost in his teenage angst, I reached out. My fingers hovered over the board. I plucked the white stone I had just played and tried to slide it back into the bowl.

"Maybe she's telling the truth," I said, my voice soothing. "Maybe she really just wants to study. We're young. We can't exactly promise anyone a future yet."

"Maybe," he sighed.

Then, his eyes snapped down to my hand. The melancholy vanished, replaced by a sharp, accusatory glare.

"Margot."

He reached out and grabbed my wrist. His grip was warm, firm.

"Put it back," he commanded, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Don't think I didn't see that. No take-backs."

Chapter 7

Blind to the girl, but 20/20 vision for the game.

If I played that stone where it legally belonged, the game was over. I was dead in the water.

I didn't move my hand. I just pursed my lips, locking eyes with him. I held the silence like a held breath, daring him to call the foul.

He held my gaze. A second passed. Then two.

The tension broke. He sighed, shaking his head with a crooked grin.

"Fine. Just this once."

"Youre a saint, Montgomery."

I flashed a smilebright, dazzling, dangerous.

I watched the flush creep up his neck and settle, burning bright red, on his earlobes.

The University Winter Gala.

It was the social event of the semester. Donors, alumni, the board of directorseveryone who mattered was in the auditorium.

When the curtain rose, I finally understood Zoes sudden interest in the Arts Committee.

She sat at the Steinway, center stage. The lighting was engineered to perfection, bathing her in a heavenly glow. Her gown was exquisitelikely expensed to the department budgetshimmering with every movement.

She played Chopin. And she didn't just play; she commanded the instrument.

As the final note hung in the air, the applause was deafening.

Montgomery walked onto the stage. He carried a bouquet of roses that cost more than my textbooks.

The crowd went wild.

Zoe accepted the flowers, her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. Montgomery looked at her like she was the only person in the room. He was stunned. He had no idea she could play like that.

Neither did I.

I narrowed my eyes.

Piano isn't a cheap hobby. It requires money, time, and years of private tuition. For a girl who supposedly grew up in poverty, relying on scholarships to survive how did she acquire concert-level skills?

The math didn't add up.

I waited by the exit.

They walked down the grand staircase together. Montgomery was being the perfect gentleman, his hand supporting her elbow as she navigated the steps in her heels.

Then, he saw me.

I wasn't even looking at him. I was scrolling through my phone, leaning against a pillar.

But the moment he registered my presence, he subconsciously loosened his grip on Zoes arm.

Zoes smile faltered. Her jaw tightened.

"Margot."

I looked up, feigning surprise.

He frowned, scanning my outfit. I was still in my standard-issue blazer and skirt.

"I thought you were performing," he said, confusion knitting his brow. "Where's the dress? What about the violin solo?"

He knew I had been practicing. Hed seen the calluses on my fingertips in the Student Council office. He knew Id been staying late, rehearsing until my fingers bled.

To him, this didn't make sense.

But the question hung in the air, thick with intimacy. It implied we had secrets. It implied he paid attention to my details.

Beside him, Zoe stiffened.

Perfect.

I offered a tired, gracious smile.

"Change of plans," I said smoothly. "The administration needed someone to handle the VIP donors and the Board tour. Since Zoe had her performance, I stepped in to cover the hosting duties."

Montgomerys head snapped toward Zoe. Then back to me.

"But you practiced for weeks," he said, his voice rising with indignation. "You wasted all that time?"

I glanced at Zoe. My smile sharpened at the edges.

"Its fine," I said, my voice soft but carrying. "Its the Presidents responsibility to fill the gaps."

Zoes face was a mask of rigid control.

"The President works so hard," she said through gritted teeth.

Montgomery missed her sarcasm entirely. He scoffed, looking at me with a mix of frustration and protectiveness.

"Since you both had performances scheduled, they should have asked someone else to host," he snapped. "They only dumped it on you because they know you're too nice to say no. Theyre walking all over you."

I let him rant. I let him get angry on my behalf. It took five minutes of soothing words and gentle touches to calm him down. I half-expected him to storm into the Deans office and demand justice.

That would be messy.

I watched him defend me, fighting a smile.

He didn't need to know the truth.

I didn't lose the spot. I threw it away.

Because a martyr is always more memorable than a musician.

Chapter 8

She wanted the spotlight? Fine.

I hope the glare blinds her.

On Saturday, Patricia hosted an afternoon tea at the estate.

The guest list was curatedold money, board members, and, of course, Eleanor Montgomery.

Eleanor was sipping Earl Grey, her posture rigid, her expression unreadable. She set the delicate china cup down with a soft clink. "Margot," she said, looking at me. "I was disappointed you didn't perform at the gala. Why did you pull out?"

I lowered my eyes, performing humility like it was a Beethoven sonata.

"Please, Eleanor, don't tease me. Compared to Zoes piano performance, my violin playing is amateur at best. I didn't want to go up there and make a joke of myself."

Patricia frowned, offended on my behalf. "Margot, don't be ridiculous. You won the International Concerto Competition in Vienna. How can you say you're inferior? Is this Zoe girl really that spectacular?"

Before I could answer, Eleanors demeanor cracked.

Her face darkened. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

"Spectacular?" Eleanor scoffed; the sound was sharp and ugly. "Shes a fraud. A little seductress playing cheap parlor tricks to fool the uneducated. Shes an embarrassment. She isn't fit to tune your violin, let alone share a stage with you."

Eleanor was usually the picture of grace. For her to snap like this? She was livid.

The other ladies leaned in, sensing blood.

The truth came out in jagged pieces.

Eleanor is the majority shareholder of the university. For months, she had been courting the legendary Professor Kensington, trying to recruit him to the faculty to boost the Arts program's prestige.

The night of the gala, Kensington was in the audience. He was Eleanor's guest of honor.

He was supposed to be impressed. Instead, he was insulted.

Midway through Zoes performance, Kensington walked out. Later that night, he sent Eleanor a scathing text. He accused her of wasting his time, calling the schools talent pool "vacuous" and Zoes playing "soulless grandstanding."

He rejected the job offer.

Eleanor had been humiliated. And in her world, humiliation is a capital offense.

She investigated Zoe immediately. She dug up everythingthe poverty, the scholarship, the entanglement with Montgomery.

She saw right through her son's infatuation. She saw a climber.

But Eleanor was smart. She didn't fight Montgomery directly. She took out the source.

The next morning, she exercised her veto power and stripped Zoe of her title as Head of the Arts Committee.

Zoe didn't fight back. She took the firing in silence. She knew that angering Eleanor was suicide. Even if Montgomery loved her, without Eleanors blessing, the gates to the Montgomery dynasty would remain locked.

Zoe knew what she wanted.

Just like me.

If we weren't fighting for the same prize, we might have been friends. We were both predators in silk dresses.

But there is only one throne.

Patricia sensed the tension and clapped her hands together. "Well! To clear the air Margot, why don't you play for us? A private concert."

Eleanors expression softened. She looked at me with genuine expectation. "Yes. Please. Wash that noise out of my memory."

I nodded, standing up smoothly. "It would be my pleasure."

I walked toward the staircase to retrieve my violin. As I passed the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the driveway, movement caught my eye.

A sleek sports car screeched to a halt outside.

Montgomery.

He slammed the car door shut. Even from this distance, I could see the storm clouds on his face. He was vibrating with rage. He was here to confront his mother. He was here to defend his damsel.

I watched him through the glass.

Perfect timing.

Down below, Montgomery ripped his phone from his ear and hung up. His jaw was set in stone.

Let the show begin.

Chapter 9

Yesterday, Zoe pulled the pin on a grenade and handed it to Montgomery.

She told him Eleanor had fired her. She begged him to find out why.

He tried. He really did. But Eleanor didn't just shut him down; she brought receipts. She laid out the evidence of Zoes mismanagementusing the budget for personal gain, suppressing other members, turning the committee into her personal vanity project.

And the cherry on top? Eleanor banned him from seeing her.

Montgomery exploded. It was a shouting match that shook the walls of the manor. He stormed out, furious, convinced his mother was a tyrant.

Then came the morning call. Zoe, voice trembling, playing the martyr.

"I accept my fate," she whispered. "Maybe we aren't meant to win against them."

Fate?

Montgomery didn't believe in fate. He believed in fighting.

He was a walking powder keg. When he found out Eleanor was sipping tea at the Meng estate as if she hadn't just destroyed a girl's life, he saw red. He drove over there to burn the house down.

He blamed Eleanor. And by proximity, he blamed me.

He kicked open the heavy oak doors of the drawing room, ready to scream.

Then, the music hit him.

The anger didn't just fade; it was physically pushed out of his body by the sound.

I stood on the raised landing of the grand staircase.

I was wearing a strapless gown of emerald silk that clung to my waist and flowed like liquid water to the floor. Against the deep green, my skin looked like alabaster.

My eyes were closed. My chin rested on the dark wood of the Guarneri violin.

I wasn't playing a song; I was weaving a spell. The bow sliced through the air, drawing out notes that were sharp, clear, and haunting.

I looked like a forest spirit caught in a sunbeamuntouchable, ethereal, breathtakingly beautiful.

I drew the final note out until it was nothing but a vibration in the air. I lowered the bow and curtsied.

Silence.

Then Eleanor sighed, breaking the trance.

"Margot," she said, shaking her head. "If you had played the other night, Professor Kensington would never have walked out. Instead, we subjected him to that classless amateur. It was a crime against art."

I lowered my head, feigning shyness, letting my hair curtain my face. Through the strands, I flicked my eyes toward the doorway.

Montgomery stood there, frozen. His hand was still on the doorknob.

He looked at me. Then he looked at the floor.

He stood there for three secondsan eternity. Then, without a word, he turned and slipped away.

The other ladies in the room had never heard Zoe play. They only had Eleanors insults to go on