Devoted Love:The Billionaire's Precious Wife-Chapter 759 - 760

Rosemary watched as Beverly stepped forward to speak, choosing to remain silent herself. Instead, she turned to Eugene, "Grandpa Eugene, I reckon it’s about time we got this birthday shindig started."

It was already half-past eight in the evening.

"Right you are, time to cut the cake." Eugene glanced around the gathering, "Haven’t seen Charles and Nelson yet, have we?"

"Should be here any minute now."

"Alright then." Eugene gestured invitingly, "Let’s all head to the garden, folks. That’s where we’ll be slicing into the birthday cake tonight."

His spirits were high; seeing his darling girl, who he had cherished since her childhood, utterly captivate the crowd brought a smile that stretched from ear to ear. It was a feeling of pure thrill.

Meanwhile, Alma stood rooted to the spot, her steps heavy as if her feet were filled with lead, unable to move.

"You’ve bit off more than you can chew," Beverly tossed these cold words at her, her expression icy,her gaze not that of a mother looking at her daughter, but rather at something worthless.

If Rosemary’s performance was truly improvised, her talent wasn’t just a hundred times better than Alma’s - it was beyond measure.

"Given her skills, you could practice for another ten years and still not even come close to her."

Alma looked at her mother in disbelief, not expecting such high praise for Rosemary.

"You lost the battle at The Life music contest. Normally, I could have pulled some strings, especially since it’s Mr. Eugene’s birthday bash. That girl might have cut you some slack, and you wouldn’t have to say goodbye to your violin. But you just had to be stubborn, challenging her to an impromptu composition. Did you see Nathan’s face darken? He thinks you’re a sore loser, causing a scene for no

good reason."

Alma flushed with shame, "I just couldn’t accept it."

"Your improvisation took two months to polish, and you still lost to her. It proves she’s out of your league. When you meet a superior opponent, you should reflect and learn, not be blinded by jealousy.

How are you any different from Serena then?"

Hearing her mother’s words, Alma’s face reddened even more.

"Do you think you’re entitled to every championship in the world? Can’t someone else have their moment? Those with too much pride never go far." Beverly said coldly, "Even if you’ve lost, walk out

there with your head held high. You’re my daughter; you can’t let people say you can’t handle defeat. And from now on, you’re not to touch the violin again."

With that, Beverly made her way to the garden in her heels.

Suddenly, Alma felt small, realizing it was her own insistence on competing. Having lost, she needed to accept defeat gracefully.

She blamed herself for letting her competitive spirit cloud her judgment.

"How does it feel to be outplayed?" came a voice from the corner.

Serena emerged with a smirk of schadenfreude.

"Back at Summerfield College, you insisted on that violin showdown and ended up humiliating yourself in front of everyone. I thought you’d learned your lesson, but no, here you are tonight, making a fool of yourself in front of esteemed elders. No wonder Aunt Beverly is livid. If I had a daughter as foolish as

you, I’d be beside myself with frustration."

Even though Beverly had just likened her daughter’s poor sportsmanship to Serena, implying an insult, Serena couldn’t help but revel in Alma’s downfall.

Alma, with nowhere to direct her anger, faced Serena and slapped her across the face, "You can’t even hold a candle to me in violin; what gives you the right to talk smack?"

"You dare hit me?" Serena clutched her face.

"Yes, I hit you. So what?" Alma grabbed her hair, warning her, "You think I’m afraid of you, a foster kid?

Just because I’ve been nice to you, you think you’re better than everyone? You better watch yourself.

You don’t want to mess with me - I can make your life a living hell in a heartbeat!"

"Then come at me!" Serena glared, her defiance as clear as day, "After living in this house for eighteen years, I refuse to believe that mom and dad would stand by if you try to mess with me."

Alma’s grip on Serena’s hair tightened, as if she longed to rip it out by the roots, "Well, they’d need proof, wouldn’t they? If they start slinging mud at me without cause, do you think my parents would just

sit back and watch?"

Serena struggled in vain against Alma’s hold, her frustration boiling over.

"Even someone of my level isn’t allowed to touch a violin again, let alone a piece of trash like you."

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"It means if you dare enter a violin contest, or dare to study under some maestro, if you even think about walking down that musical path, I’ll make sure you never play the violin again in your life. When I

say something, I mean it."

"What are you going to do?"

"You know exactly what!" With that, Alma flung her hand away violently.

Staggering back, Serena seethed with rage. What was this, some kind of low blow? Was she planning to sabotage her future with the violin, to make sure no one could play if she couldn’t?

Alma dusted off her hands as if touching Serena had contaminated her, her expression one of disgust, and she turned to leave.

"Alma, this isn’t over," Serena had always thought it best to keep the peace in the family, but over the last few months, Alma’s tyranny had escalated. Ever since she found out Serena wasn’t the true

Collins, she had been relentless.

Did Alma really think Serena was a pushover?

"You’ll regret this. You’ll be the one running home to mommy and daddy," Serena spat before turning on her heel and walking away.

Alma scoffed. As if Serena, with her simple mind, could ever come up with a scheme to get the better of her.

Just as Alma took a few steps, she heard something behind her. Turning around, she saw Serena, who had somehow procured a full glass of champagne and hurled it directly at her.

The bubbly liquid splashed over Alma’s face and drenched her gown before she could react.

Serena set down the glass with a satisfied smirk, "Just getting started, Alma. You’ll see. Oh, by the way, I might have spit in that champagne before I threw it." freēwēbnovel.com

Alma was livid, storming off toward the restroom to clean up.

Serena, feeling victorious, strutted off to the garden, bathed in the comforting glow of the warm lights among the trees and flowers.

"Finished in the restroom?" Martin’s arm wrapped around her waist, searching her face for any sign of distress, "No tears?"

He had been worried when Serena falsely claimed to be Queena’s protege, which led to a confrontation and apology to Rosemary. The last thing he expected was for Serena to sound so cheerful about it.

On the contrary, Serena seemed delightful, replying, "Why would I cry over something so trivial?"

Instead, the sight of Alma in utter disarray had filled Serena with a gleeful satisfaction.

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