Chapter 1

Someone suddenly tagged me in the parents' group chat. [Ms. Hamilton, I see you play piano with the kids during after-school care every day. From now on, give my daughter a private one-on-one lesson too. I won't ask for it for free—I'll pay you five bucks an hour. That adds up to a pretty nice side income every month.]

But I was an internationally acclaimed, award-winning pianist. My private lessons started at several thousand dollars a session, and now someone wanted one for five bucks? I replied in the group chat without hesitation: [No.]

What I didn't expect was for her to egg her daughter on into wreaking havoc in class, even hurting another child, then team up with a teacher to turn it all back on me, calling me selfish and morally unfit. She even swore she'd run me out of Riverdale's piano scene. As if. I've always worked on the international stage. I only took this substitute job as a favor to my best friend. If they think they can bury me, they're welcome to try.

Near midnight, the parents' group chat started blowing up. Yvonne's mom tagged me more than a dozen times in a row: [Ms. Hamilton, my Yvonne's been glued to you these past two days. From now on, during that after-school hour, I want you giving her private one-on-one piano lessons.]

[I won't make you do it for free. I'll pay five bucks an hour. That's a nice little side income—enough to help with household expenses. My husband is the biggest piano dealer in Riverdale. Letting you teach my daughter is me giving you a chance to make a name for yourself.]

The group chat went silent. There were dozens of parents in there, yet not one of them said a word. I stared at the screen for a moment, then typed back: [The after-school fee only covers child supervision and safety. Private piano lessons are not part of my job, so I won't be teaching them.]

After all, I came from a family of pianists. My father was a well-known composer, and my mother was a top concert pianist. I started learning at three, held my first solo recital at fifteen, won gold at the Chopin International Piano Competition at eighteen, and now serve as the exclusive regional consultant for three premier piano brands as well as a core member of the National School Piano Project expert committee.

My private lessons started at several thousand dollars a session, and money alone wasn't enough to get you in. The students who studied under me were either truly gifted young pianists or children from high-profile families—CEOs, powerful figures, celebrities. They were also the network and credibility I'd built up over decades in this field.

Three months ago, my best friend Summer Hughes, the head teacher of the senior class at Bright Horizons Bilingual Preschool in Riverdale, went on maternity leave. After two solid weeks of begging, she finally talked me into covering for her for three months, and I caved.

The preschool had an old piano sitting unused. During after-school care, I'd sometimes play a few nursery tunes and give the interested kids a little introduction to music. They loved crowding around the piano, calling out 'Ms. Hamilton' in their sweet little voices. Piano can be a bit of fun for me in my spare time, sure—but I'd never turn it into some dirt-cheap side hustle. That would be an insult to the profession I'm proud of.

I thought one clear rejection would make Linda Carter back off. I couldn't have been more wrong. That was only the beginning of the farce. The next morning, I had barely made it to the classroom when trouble started again.

Assistant teacher May Miller sidled over with a snide look. 'Ms. Hamilton, what you said in the group yesterday was too harsh. Yvonne's mom is only doing this for her child. Our school has always promoted holistic education. Since you have that skill, why not spend a little extra time with the kids? It'll help build rapport too. No need to be so calculating. Besides, Mr. Carter—Yvonne's dad—is about to replace the school's piano with a brand-new performance model. What if he gets upset and backs out?'

I looked at May, annoyed. 'Then you teach her yourself. I'm not doing it.'

Seeing how firm I was, May's face turned cold. 'Do you seriously not know what's good for you?' I ignored her and turned to prepare the kids' morning activity materials. She used the opening to run straight to Linda Carter with my words.

Not long after, the parents' group chat exploded. Linda sent more than a dozen long voice messages, every single one dripping with acid. [We're all doing this for the kids. You can play piano, so what's the big deal about teaching a little? Why hide it like it's some treasure? My Yvonne is the little princess of our family. Learning piano is meant to give her a refined young-lady temperament. My husband has all the top piano resources in his hands. Letting you teach her is giving you face.]

[It's just moving your fingers a little—how much effort could that possibly take? You don't have a shred of team spirit. Watch yourself, or I'll make sure you can't work anywhere in Riverdale's piano scene.] A few parents who were close to her immediately chimed in.

[Exactly. Ms. Hamilton is way too stuck-up. Isn't it just teaching a child a little piano?]

[Yvonne's mom is paying you. It's not like she's asking for it for free. Enough already.]

[She's just a substitute teacher, and she's already acting like some big shot. That's hilarious.]

May immediately jumped into the group chat to back Linda up too. It was the same tired line over and over—telling me to be more understanding and not clash with the parents. Between the lines, every word was about putting me down to prop Linda up.