Chapter 2

She chuckled dryly and said, "Alright… I'll go get some water for everyone."

With that, she turned and headed toward the kitchen.

I was about to stop her, but the others around me smiled and nodded eagerly. "Sure, thank you!"

I snorted inwardly, thinking she wouldn't escape easily.

It wasn't long before the sound of shattering glass echoed from the kitchen, followed by a startled cry from the fake Deborah.

Everyone turned to see her clutching her finger with an apologetic expression.

"I'm so sorry, but… I don't think I'll be able to play today."

I immediately stepped forward and grabbed her hand. A thin cut ran along her finger, with fresh blood trickling out.

"What are the odds of getting hurt now? Is this an excuse to avoid playing for everyone?"

The crowd exchanged uncertain glances, doubt flickering in their eyes.

Someone murmured, "Yeah, why now of all times…"

Just then, Isaiah came rushing down the stairs. His face was stormy as he pushed past me and asked worriedly, "Debbie, what happened? Are you hurt?"

The fake Deborah looked down, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"Isaiah, it's nothing really. It was just an accident. Don't blame her…"

I let out a disdainful sneer and said, "Isaiah, don't you find it odd? Deborah is supposed to be a prodigy, a musical genius, especially with the guitar. Have you ever heard her play since you got together?"

Isaiah scowled and shot me a glare. His voice was tense with anger as he bellowed, "That's enough! Stop rubbing salt in Debbie's wound. She got in a car accident when she arrived here. Her fingers were severely injured, and she can't play the guitar anymore."

With her head bowed, the fake Deborah revealed a glimmer of triumph in her eyes.

However, she kept a pitifully demure front and softly added, "I really am sorry. I wish I could play for everyone, but you can't accuse me of lying."

I couldn't help but laugh mockingly. "What a coincidence. You had an accident last time and got hurt today. Your fingers must be made of glass. Is this your go-to excuse whenever someone questions you?"

The murmurs grew louder among the crowd, and their expressions turned skeptical.

Her face paled slightly, then she bit her lip and replied aggrievedly, "How can you say that? The car accident was the most painful experience of my life. Why are you doing this? Do you have some grudge against me?"

Isaiah's expression darkened as he glared at me. "Haven't you had enough? Debbie is the victim here. Stop being so unreasonable!"

After that, he grabbed her hand and held it up in front of me. Pointing to a faint scar on her finger, he continued, "This is proof. I even have the hospital's report. Do you want me to show you?"

The others gasped, and some whispered, "Oh, so that's what happened… It was an accident."

The fake Deborah looked up and shook her head with a sigh.

"No matter what, I'm still sorry for disappointing everyone."

I remarked, "You certainly go all out to sell your lies."

Isaiah suddenly took a step closer to me, and his tone was sharp and menacing as he growled, "What do you mean by that? Are you deliberately targeting Debbie?"

Then, without warning, he yanked the hat off my head.

"So it's you! You made a fuss yesterday and had the guts to return. Are you here to stir up trouble?"

Isaiah's anger boiled over, and he swung his hand toward me.

My heart sank, but I couldn't back down now. I uttered coldly, "I am the real Deborah. If you don't believe me, ask my dad."

"Fine. Call Mr. Larson then."

Gritting my teeth, I pulled out my phone and dialed Dad's number. But the call wouldn't go through, and the screen repeatedly showed "connecting".

Isaiah let out a scornful laugh. "What's the matter? Can't get through? Can't keep up the act anymore?"

I sucked in a deep breath and refused to give in. "Or you could call your dad. He knows the truth."

For a moment, Isaiah's expression froze, but he quickly masked it with a contemptuous smirk. "Stop making up lies. Debbie's been with me all this time. How could she be fake?"

"Alright, then let's put her to the test!" I fixed my gaze on her and interrogated, "In the Larson family's manor, there's a thousand-year-old pine tree in the backyard. Tell me, where exactly is it?"

I searched her face for any hint of hesitation.

To my surprise, she remained composed and answered with a smile, "The manor doesn't have a pine tree but osmanthus trees."

How did she know that? A wave of unease surged through me while Isaiah's fury reignited.

He grabbed me and roared, "So you did plan this. You came here just to pick a fight with Debbie!"

When the others came forth to calm him down, the fake Deborah pretended to intervene by saying, "Isaiah, let it go. It's all a misunderstanding." Her gentle tone was laced with accusation. "She's probably mentally unstable or something."

Her words only stoked Isaiah's anger further.

He shoved me to the ground and said, "You're just jealous of Debbie. You keep causing trouble for her. Since you're so concerned about her fingers, why don't I break yours as well?"

Isaiah grabbed a heavy vase nearby and raised it high. His eyes gleamed with malice, as though he truly intended to shatter my hand.

I became frantic and struggled out of his grasp. My hands were my lifeline—they meant everything to me as a guitarist.

The crowd gasped in shock and rushed to stop Isaiah, but his grip was unrelenting.

Meanwhile, the fake Deborah stood by with a smug smile, as if she couldn't wait to see me injured.

Just as I braced myself for the worst, a stern and commanding voice rang out from the doorway. It carried a weight of authority that made everyone freeze in place.

"What's going on here?"