Chapter 6 - THREE ENVELOPES
Three conservatories.
Three offers.
One night.
My hands shook as Eleanor placed three sealed envelopes into them.
I had imagined this moment since I was thirteen.
Not exactly like this.
In my imagination, nobody had broken a priceless family instrument or stolen my dress first.
Still.
I looked toward the ceiling for half a second.
Grandpa would have hated the chandeliers.
Too fancy.
Too much electricity wasted.
Then he would have cried harder than anyone.
I opened nothing that night.
That surprised the conservatory representatives.
But I needed one thing that belonged only to me.
Time.
At the reception, people congratulated me.
Donors asked about the Stradivarius.
A New York critic told Maestro Cole my Sibelius had “dangerous clarity,” which I still wasn’t sure was entirely a compliment.
Then a young reporter approached.
“Claire, may I ask about the confusion earlier?”
My stomach tightened.
“What confusion?”
“A woman wearing the dress from your foundation portrait introduced herself as you.”
So Vanessa had gone further than she admitted.
“Did she say her name was Claire Bennett?”
The reporter hesitated.
“Not exactly.”
“What did she say?”
“When I asked if she was Claire, she said, ‘Tonight I am.’”
My face went hot.
That was deliberate.
The reporter immediately sensed my reaction.
“Was that your sister?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to comment?”
“No.”
That disappointed him.
Good.
Then Eleanor appeared beside us.
“The Hayes Foundation would prefer tonight’s coverage remain focused on Claire’s performance.”
The reporter backed off.
I looked at Eleanor.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
She handed me her phone.
Security footage.
Vanessa leaving my dressing room.
My emerald dress over one arm.
Grandpa’s violin already lying damaged on the floor behind her.
Then another angle.
Vanessa returned.
Looked directly at the violin.
And kicked one broken piece farther beneath the chair.
My stomach turned.
“She said it happened accidentally after she grabbed the case.”
Eleanor’s expression hardened.
“It did not look accidental.”
No.
It didn’t.
I had seen Vanessa angry.
I knew she had meant to hurt something I loved.
But seeing the calm afterward was worse.
She hadn’t panicked.
She had looked satisfied.
“Does Mom know about this footage?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
Eleanor’s mouth tightened.
“She asked security whether it could be deleted.”
I looked at her.
For several seconds, I could hear nothing except the gala music.
Of course Mom had.
Even tonight.
Even after everything.
Protect Vanessa first.
Manage Claire second.
The pattern was so old I could have mapped it blindfolded.
My phone buzzed.
Dad.
CALL ME NOW.
I stepped into an empty corridor.
He answered immediately.
“Where is your mother?”
“At the gala.”
“Where is Vanessa?”
“I don’t know.”
He breathed heavily.
“What happened?”
I almost laughed.
“What did Mom tell you?”
“That there was an accident with the violin.”
“It wasn’t an accident.”
Silence.
Then:
“How bad?”
“Bad.”
Another silence.
“Claire, I need you to come home after the gala.”
“Why?”
“We need to talk about your grandfather’s trust.”
So Mom had called him.
“Did you spend it?”
“No.”
My heart shifted.
“Then who did?”
He went quiet.
“Dad.”
“I need to show you something.”
“What?”
“Bank records.”
That was never a good phrase.
Then he said:
“The money used for Vanessa’s wedding didn’t come directly from your trust.”
I frowned.
“Mom said it did.”
“Your mother doesn’t know the whole story.”
“What story?”
Dad exhaled.
“Your grandfather’s trust was worth much more than two hundred thousand dollars.”
My entire body went cold.
“How much?”
There was a long pause.
“By the time he died?”
May you like
Dad’s voice dropped.
“Almost seven hundred thousand.”
