Chapter 1Even the True Prodigy Can’t Steal My Spotlight

Talent, it just doesn't make sense sometimes.

My mom, a world-class pianist, but my playing sounds like a bag of cotton balls.

My dad, an uncrowned king of opera, but I can't hit a single note in tune.

My older sister, she composed a piece at six and had her solo concert at nine. Meanwhile, I was bawling my eyes out because my music teacher mocked me. Even our pet parrot can belt out La Traviata flawlessly.

Luckily, this tone-deaf mess is still the family's darling.

I've become exceptionally good at just… chilling.

On my eighteenth birthday, a young prodigy, fresh off winning the Junior Piano Gold Prize, publicly demanded a DNA test. He claimed I was a fraud, a cuckoo in the nest, and he was the real son.

I knew it!

I always felt like such an outsider; turns out, there was no blood connection at all!

…

Ever since I could remember, I thought I was the family's balance. Everyone else had perfect pitch, but I was the lone discordant note in a symphony of talent—born with absolute tone-deafness.

My mom, Rosalind, a genius pianist who debuted at six and won awards at sixteen. She could make a broken, out-of-tune piano sound perfect.

My dad, Liam, was revered as a top tenor in both the East and West, once shattering a glass with his voice in a documentary.

My sister, Lyra, a born composer, could instantly replicate anything she heard, then improvise on it.

And me, Leo, truly unworthy of the 'Leo' (meaning 'sound' in a poetic way, though not directly in English) in my name.

Just as I’d grown accustomed to being treated with affectionate pity, like a disabled loved one, a little hero descended upon us.

“Get out! I’m the real Leo! I’m the true son of the Forester family!”

Caleb stood at the side gate of our villa garden, one hand clutching the confession of a recently apprehended kidnapper, the other holding his phone, playing a recording from a competition he’d won last month.

“The National Junior Piano Gold Prize! Vacant for two years, and I won it! I’m the true member of this family!”

He glared, teeth clenched, at me, standing by the fountain, eating cake. For a moment, the cake in my mouth tasted even sweeter.

See? I knew there was something off! I was never a Forester by blood!

The air in the garden thickened. Dad, who was sipping a throat-soothing herbal tea, preparing to sing, set his cup down, his lips pressed into a thin line. Mom, laughing and chatting with students and teachers, turned, her eyes narrowing slightly. Lyra, seated under a tree, immersed in composition, put down her pen and rose, taking a deep breath.

Caleb, assuming everyone was stunned and overjoyed, a smile bloomed on his face: “Dad, Mom, Lyra, that kidnapper snuck into the hospital and stole me away. Then, an unmarried pregnant girl found out, kept quiet, and swapped her own baby in.”

“So, the fake Leo is tone-deaf. He doesn’t have our family’s genes at all! Eighteen years of meticulous education, wasted!”

Meticulous education? I instinctively recalled being forced to listen to music, practice singing, learn notation, and play piano… until, at age ten, I nearly jumped from a window in despair.

Hiss—I sucked in a cold breath. Some meticulousness you just can’t handle.

“Great news!”

I clapped first, loudly exclaiming, “Since the real son is home, can I leave?” I licked my lips, unable to hide my excitement. “I won’t have to memorize Beethoven’s scores anymore!”

“And I won’t have to cry practicing piano every single day!”

Caleb froze. Everyone turned to look at me. Dad’s expression softened as he walked over and patted my back.

“You little rascal, what nonsense are you dreaming up?” He turned to Caleb, his face hardening. “Son, your so-called evidence requires further investigation. Until the truth comes to light, please watch your mouth.”

“Investigation? The confession is right here!” Caleb’s voice was high with emotion, waving his phone, which showed him receiving his award. “I am your son! A musical genius capable of winning a Gold Prize!”

Lyra rolled her eyes subtly. “Who doesn’t know that this year’s Gold Prize was a razor-thin win? It should be called the ‘barely-made-it’ award.”

Caleb’s lips trembled with anger. But Lyra had won that very award at eleven, with the highest score. I sighed internally for Caleb.

Poor kid, do you really think coming to the Forester family is paradise? Everyone here, except me, is a force of nature!