Her Silent Symphony, His Ruthless Claim

Chapter 4

The parking lot below had emptied, but I kept the curtain pulled back anyway, as if the darkness might apologize. Whoever had stood beneath that streetlamp had left a hole in the night, a shape my eyes refused to stop searching for. My phone lay face down on the desk, heavy as a stone I was afraid to turn over, and the leather folder sat beside it like a held breath.

"Sing it with me, sweetieee," my mother used to say, tucking the blanket beneath my chin. I pressed my lips together and let the old lullaby tremble against my ruined throat, a song with no sound, only breath and an ache older than I was willing to admit. The pages waited and the city waited too. I sat down before the score, and the darkness settled on my shoulders like a hand. The city lights from the skyscrapers outside my window looked like thousands of eyes watching my every move. On the mahogany desk, the musical score lay silent, demanding justice for the death of my parents fourteen years ago.

Fourteen years. I was only ten years old when my world collapsed in the grinding screech of metal on a desolate highway. That car accident had always been framed as a "driver's negligence" tragedy. But tonight, that lie began to peel away.

How could Caelan Ashford possess the exact same score of the song my mother used to hum in the car during our last road trip? Was he part of that harrowing past?

A soft knock sounded at the door. Not the electronic chime of an access card, but a manual, polite, yet urgent rap.

I stood, my heart hammering painfully against my ribs. I cracked the door open, and my breath hitched. Mr. Pierce stood there-the usually haughty senior producer, now looking like a man haunted by his own sins. He slipped inside, his breath ragged, and stared at the score on the desk with wet eyes.

"They shouldn't have given this to you," he uttered bitterly. His voice cracked with deep, agonizing regret. "Caelan has lost his mind. He wants to resurrect the memory of that night to consolidate his power."

"That night of the accident?" I asked, my voice raspy. "What does this melody have to do with my parents? Tell me, Ronan! Was it Caelan who killed them?"

Mr. Pierce looked at me with an expression of fear that transcended the mere threat of being fired. "Not Caelan directly, Wren. Caelan was just a boy back then; he likely doesn't know the dirty details. But your parents weren't just writing a song. They were writing an access code to a sealed Ashford Sound Group data vault. Inside, there is evidence that the Ashford family empire was built upon the ruins of their competitors, including your father's family. That accident ... it wasn't an accident. It was a message sent by Caelan's father to silence them forever."

My world crumbled. The truth was far more bitter than the gas leak I had once imagined. My parents hadn't been victims of bad luck, but sacrifices to an endless ambition.

"Why are you telling me this now?" I asked, tears streaming down my face.

"Because I can no longer stand by and watch history repeat itself," he replied. "Caelan plans to use tomorrow's audition to showcase this song as his original work. He wants the world to believe he is a genius, while he is actually milking the remnants of your parents' memories to erase the tracks of his family's crimes. If that melody is played tomorrow, it won't be a concert. It will be their declaration of victory over your parents' destruction."

Before I could press him further, heavy, authoritative footsteps echoed in the hallway. Mr. Pierce paled. He pressed a small USB drive into my hand, his trembling fingers cold.

"Keep this. Don't show it to anyone, especially Caelan. If the audition proceeds tomorrow, do not play that melody. Ruin his plans, or they will continue to hunt anyone who knows the truth."

Mr. Pierce bolted through the emergency exit just moments before the apartment door was shoved open violently.

Caelan stood there. His eyes swept the room with suspicion. He stepped inside, his breathing heavy. He caught the scent of Ronan's cologne still lingering in the air.

"Who was here?" his voice was cold, freezing my blood.

"No one," I replied, hiding the USB in my pocket, my heart thumping as if it wanted to leap out of my chest. "I was just ... trying to write."

Caelan didn't believe me. He approached, his steps deeply intimidating. He gripped my chin, his eyes searching mine for any sign of a lie. "You're lying. I can smell your fear, and I can smell another man's scent in this room."

He ransacked the room violently. He overturned chairs and checked the closets, but found nothing. He returned to me, his eyes burning with suppressed rage. He gripped my shoulders, making me wince in pain.

"Don't ever think about playing games behind my back, Wren," he whispered, his face inches from mine. "My father already told me who your parents really were. They were people who tried to destroy everything, and they paid the price on that highway fourteen years ago. So, don't try to be a hero for a history that is already buried."

Those words hit me harder than any physical blow. Caelan spoke with sincere conviction. He wasn't lying. He truly believed my parents were criminals who deserved to die. He was a pawn, blissfully unaware that his own father was the monster who had destroyed my life.

Caelan released me roughly and walked toward the door. Before leaving, he looked back. "Tomorrow morning, I'll pick you up at eight sharp. Ensure that melody is perfect. If not ... you know the consequences."

The door shut. I collapsed to the floor, my tears flowing freely. The USB in my pocket felt impossibly heavy-a burden and a hope. I stared at the score on the table, then at the drive. Tomorrow, that grand stage would bear witness. Would I play the melody to unmask the Ashford family before everyone, or should I save Caelan from the truth that would shatter his soul?

Yet, as I closed my eyes to steady myself, my phone-with its shattered screen-vibrated softly. The cracked display showed a notification that made my entire body freeze.

"Trust no one, Wren. Including the one who gave you that USB. The melody is not just a code. It is a warning."

I stared at the screen in horror. The message came from the same mysterious entity. If Mr. Pierce wasn't an ally, then who was truly manipulating my fate? And if that message was true, had I just received a "bomb" that would destroy me?

Tomorrow, the grand stage will be witness. Would I be the victim, or would I become the executioner for the man who had stolen everything from me, even if he didn't know what his father had done? I only knew one thing: tomorrow, that melody would end everything.