Ignored When Chasing: Why Cry After I Got Engaged-Chapter 52: No Comparison, No Harm

"Mr. Hawthorne, is my song the one you remember?" Serena Hughes asked Damian Hawthorne cautiously.

From the moment she finished playing until now, Damian Hawthorne had shown no particular expression.

This wasn’t what she had imagined.

’Damian Hawthorne should have been thrilled.’

Ever since Damian Hawthorne had started to suspect her, she’d been on edge, unsure of how much he suspected or what he might have found out.

"Yes," Damian Hawthorne nodded, his lips curling into a faint smile. "What made you suddenly remember it?"

Serena Hughes’s smile froze for a second, but she quickly covered it up. "I suddenly recalled the song in a dream. I wrote it down as soon as I woke up."

Damian Hawthorne nodded and turned to Hugo Grant. "Let’s go. It’s getting too crowded here."

Nearly everyone in the bar had gathered around them.

’This song really is captivating.’

Remembering what Cecilia Nathan had said, Hugo Grant turned to Serena Hughes. "Miss Serena, you must have played many songs for Damian when he couldn’t see, right?"

Hugo Grant sat upright in his chair. His black shirt made his features look sharp, and his dark eyes seemed to see through everything.

Serena Hughes didn’t know why he was asking this. After a moment’s thought, she nodded. "Of course. It wasn’t just this one."

"In that case, Miss Serena, please play a few more," Hugo Grant said, his lips parting slightly. His tone was mild, yet it held an unquestionable certainty. "Damian and I would both like to hear some others."

Damian Hawthorne raised an eyebrow, shooting him a sideways glance.

’Who exactly wants to hear them?’

Hugo Grant just smiled without a word.

Serena Hughes couldn’t hold back, her expression nearly cracking.

’Play more?’

’In front of all these people?’

If it weren’t to showcase this particular piece, she would never have wanted to perform in a place like this. But this Hugo Grant... one song wasn’t enough for him; he actually wanted her to keep playing.

Unfortunately, the other people in the bar overheard and started to clamor:

"Play another one! Your music is amazing!"

"Yeah, play another one of your original songs!"

...

The words of the surrounding crowd, one after another, drilled into Serena Hughes’s ears.

Normally, she would have been happy to be admired by so many people, but they didn’t just want to hear her play; they wanted to hear her original compositions.

But the original composer was Cecilia Nathan.

At this thought, a great weight seemed to settle in Serena Hughes’s chest, making it hard to move or even breathe.

She used to play part-time in a coffee shop and could perform most requested songs, but that was in the past.

Now, she was the granddaughter of Fiona Sinclair of the Sinclair Family, not some part-time coffee shop girl.

She didn’t want to perform here, especially not for a bar crowd.

If word of this got out, her grandmother would surely say she was lowering her status.

Serena Hughes held her breath, her chest tight with frustration.

"Mr. Hawthorne... I..." Serena Hughes looked pitifully at Damian Hawthorne, hoping he would help her out.

Damian Hawthorne lifted his gaze, a half-smile on his face. "Since Mr. Grant wants to hear another, you should play one."

’Play one?’

Serena Hughes clenched her jaw, struggling to maintain her composure.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to play; it was that when it came to original compositions, this was the only one she knew.

She had thought that after playing this one song, Damian Hawthorne would be convinced she was Luna. She never expected to be turned into a performer, gawked at like a monkey in a circus.

But if she didn’t continue, all the praise she had just received would be taken away.

She had no choice but to see it through.

Swallowing her humiliation, Serena Hughes closed her eyes and raised the violin to her shoulder.

Just then, the melodious sound of a violin filled the air.

Serena Hughes’s eyes flew open, and she frantically looked toward the source of the sound.

Not far away, Cecilia Nathan was now standing on the stage. It was unclear when she had gotten there, but she was elegantly drawing her bow across the strings, beginning to play.

A microphone stood next to her, amplifying the sound of the violin to be even louder than before, filling the entire bar.

Upon hearing the familiar melody, Serena Hughes’s face alternated between pale and livid.

Cecilia Nathan was playing the very same song she had just performed: "Eye of Love."

Cecilia Nathan was holding the violin Damian Hawthorne had given her before—an exquisite, elegant instrument with a commanding presence.

Cecilia Nathan was dressed simply today in a white T-shirt and a denim skirt. Her hair was down, flowing freely. Her features were already beautiful, and her casual air radiated a confident beauty.

On the bar’s performance stage, soft lights shone down on her, adding a gentle glow to her silhouette.

Her hands were fair and slender, and as they moved on the fingerboard, they looked like butterflies dancing joyfully upon the strings.

It was a feast for the ears and a banquet for the eyes.

The surrounding noise died down to a hush. All eyes were drawn to her, fixed on her every move.

Suddenly, Serena Hughes’s hands felt as if they weighed a thousand pounds.

Her eyes widened, and she glared at Cecilia Nathan, wishing her gaze could burn holes through her.

If she had been the only one to play, she would have been the best. But now there was a comparison.

And comparisons are cruel.

Cecilia Nathan’s violin technique was already superior to hers, and she played this piece with far more familiarity. Her performance was naturally more fluid and smooth, and even the emotion she conveyed was much richer.

Serena Hughes looked at Damian Hawthorne in a panic, only to find his gaze fixed on Cecilia Nathan, his eyes terrifyingly deep.

Damian Hawthorne’s eyes were locked on Cecilia Nathan, as if he were seeing her for the first time.

The Cecilia of the past had always been so attentive to his feelings. Whatever he wanted to eat, she would prepare it and deliver it to him immediately.

Gentle, considerate, obedient—all these words described her perfectly.

But he had never once seen Cecilia Nathan play the violin.

He didn’t even know she could play so well.

Memories of the past came flooding back. Damian Hawthorne instinctively closed his eyes, a pain like a thousand needles piercing his heart.

Seeing Damian Hawthorne’s intense gaze fixed on Cecilia Nathan, tears welled up in Serena Hughes’s eyes and refused to stop.

’That bitch Cecilia Nathan came here to ruin my moment!’

Because she hadn’t kept her promise to help Chloe Sutton, Cecilia Nathan had taken the stage herself to metaphorically slap her in the face.

She hadn’t expected Cecilia Nathan to be so bold—to dare to confront her head-on even after finding out who she was.

Serena Hughes was filled with regret. If she had known this would happen, she would have helped the Sutton Family, and she wouldn’t be facing Cecilia Nathan’s retaliation like this.

When the song ended, the noisy bar fell silent.

A moment later, thunderous applause erupted.

Whether they were professionals or amateurs, everyone could recognize the excellence in Cecilia Nathan’s performance.

It was like eating coarse bran and suddenly being served a bowl of fine soup.

The comparison made the difference starkly clear.

Cecilia Nathan lowered her violin. Her slender figure stood tall as her gaze cut through the crowd, landing on Serena Hughes from afar.

Her lips curved into a faint smile, like a master sneering at a rank amateur.

Serena Hughes’s heart clenched, her face turning livid with rage and humiliation.

’Just as I thought. Cecilia did this on purpose. She came here deliberately to humiliate me.’

She had just claimed the song was her own original work, never performed anywhere before. But in the blink of an eye, Cecilia Nathan had played it in front of all these people.

No one could perform a song perfectly after hearing it just once. Not even a genius could do that.

Unless... her claim of it being an original composition was a lie.

’Cecilia... she wants to prove that I’m a liar.’

"How does this person know this song too? And she played it even better than the first one," someone in the crowd noted, sensing something was off.

Serena Hughes’s heart leaped into her throat. She quickly walked over to Cecilia Nathan and said in a low voice, "Cecilia Nathan, what are you doing here? Is Chloe Sutton alright?"

Her words were laced with threat.

Serena Hughes’s lips curled into a slight smile.

’With my current status, there’s nothing Cecilia Nathan or Chloe Sutton can do to me.’

’I can help the Sutton Family, and I can just as easily crush them under my heel again.’

"Cecilia Nathan, about what we discussed before... I’ve already asked my grandmother to help," she said, leaning close to Cecilia Nathan and speaking in a voice only the two of them could hear.

’If Cecilia is smart, she’ll know what she has to do.’

Cecilia Nathan didn’t say a word, not even sparing Serena Hughes a glance.

She didn’t care about the song itself. In fact, she had given Serena Hughes a chance.

But Serena Hughes hadn’t taken it.

Cecilia Nathan shot Serena Hughes a cool glance, her lips moved, and she uttered three words: "Don’t believe you."

Serena Hughes froze, so embarrassed she didn’t know what to do with her hands.

"Cecilia, you’re here." Hugo Grant brought a cup of tea over and handed it to Cecilia Nathan. "Come and sit with us."

As he spoke, he gave Serena Hughes a thoughtful look.

’How does Cecilia know "Eye of Love"? Only Luna is supposed to know that song.’

A suspicion began to form in his mind.

Hugo Grant’s heart tightened, and he instinctively glanced at Damian Hawthorne.

By now, Damian Hawthorne had shed his flippant smile. He stood up and strode toward them.

But beneath his steady steps, one could faintly detect a trace of panic.

"Cecilia, how do you know this song, too?"