I walked up to the stage.
Every step I took was firm and steady.
Camera flashes popped nonstop, blindingly bright as they blazed straight at my face.
The host on stage froze for two whole seconds before he snapped back to his senses and scrambled to block my path. "Ms. Hera, this is—"
"I know exactly where I am." I stepped around him and walked right up to the microphone.
Liam's face had already turned thunderous.
Minerva tightened her grip on Katrina's hand and took half a step back.
I faced all the cameras, and spoke slowly, my voice clear and unshaken.
"The Autumn Night Variations you just heard wasn't written by Katrina. Its real composer is Andrea Salome... she's my mother."
The entire audience erupted into an uproar.
A reporter yelled out, "Who is Andrea Salome?"
"A pian
