Chapter 3

Emma showed up on the third day, dressed in a sharp suit, her hair neatly styled. She looked every inch the successful professional.

She didn't bother knocking. The hotel manager opened the door for her using a key card.

Emma said, "Samuel, let's have a chat."

I remained seated near the window.

She shut the door and sat down across from me. "You know who I am, right?"

"Yeah. Emma Gere, the dean of a music academy and a renowned pianist," I replied.

"And?"

"Jason's mom."

Emma nodded, crossed her legs, and spoke in the tone of someone lecturing her junior.

"Samuel, you interrupted my son during the competition and said he was playing a piece that wasn't his. Do you know what we call that?"

"Sticking to my principles."

She gave me a frosty smile. "It's digging your own grave."

Emma leaned in closer and said softly, "I won't beat around the bush. I don't care whether you have any evidence. I've already looked into your background."

She scrolled through her phone. "Your agent's name is Louis Hale, right? You still have three years left on your contract with him. His wife's company needs a favor from me. With just one word from me, he'll terminate your contract.

"Your mentor, Professor David Ziegler, is 70 years old and in poor health. He's currently applying for the Lifetime Achievement Award, which is something my review committee has the final say on.

"And you also have a solo concert coming up in Vobley Music Hall next month. The organizer is an old friend of mine. If I tell them to cancel it, they will."

She rattled off her threats, her tone flat, as if she were reading off a menu.

"Samuel, do you really think ruining your career would be difficult for me?"

I looked into her eyes.

Emma's cruelty wasn't the kind that showed itself through anger or violence. It was a cold contempt buried deep within her. She thought crushing me would be no different from stepping on an insect.

"Ms. Gere, are you done?" I asked.

Her brows furrowed.

"Jason is my son. Going against him means going against me. I'll give you one last chance. At tomorrow's media briefing, you will publicly apologize, stating that you misheard the piece. Then, you will voluntarily resign from your position as a judge."

"And if I refuse?"

She stood up, looking down at me.

"Then you can kiss your career goodbye. Do you think winning a few major international awards means you're a big shot now?"

Emma snorted. "Samuel, in this industry, there are more ways to make a person disappear than you can imagine."

"Emma, aren't you afraid I'll reveal the truth?"

"Truth?" Emma chuckled with contempt. "How are you going to do that? By showing a few pieces of paper? Or playing a recording? Do you think those things can create a stir?"

She turned and walked toward the door.

"It's up to you whether you want to show up at Herton Hotel tomorrow at 3:00 pm. If you don't, you'll have to bear the consequences."

With that, Emma slammed the door shut.

My hands trembled for a long time as I sat in the room alone.

It wasn't fear.

It was hatred.

15 years had passed.

Emma killed Dad and stole his music, using it to catapult her other son to stardom.

Now, she was trying to force me to yield by using my career, David, and Louis as her leverage.

Emma didn't know my true identity.

I was already ten years old when she abandoned me. Yet, she didn't even think I looked familiar, much less recognize me as her firstborn son.

Well, she would find out tomorrow.