Everyone Tried to Help the Troubled Pianist—Until a Waitress Played One Familiar Song
Chapter 6
The police were called.
The man was gone.
But the message remained.
Claire barely slept.
Adrian stayed at the hotel with her that night.
Not in the same room.
Just nearby.
He understood fear.
At six in the morning, Claire knocked on his door.
“Can we talk?”
“Of course.”
She sat.
“Why did he say my mother should have stayed silent?”
“Because she found something.”
“What?”
“Probably the final account.”
“What account?”
“The one connecting Victor to the theft.”
Claire thought.
Her mother had been an accountant.
She had always loved numbers.
Maybe the song wasn’t merely a code.
Maybe it was connected to an account number.
The four notes.
4-7-1-9.
Adrian opened the flash drive again.
A file contained encrypted numbers.
They matched the melody.
“Try 4719.”
The file unlocked.
A list of private accounts appeared.
One belonged to Victor.
Another to an unknown entity.
And the third was labeled:
LIFE 4719
Claire frowned.
“What is that?”
Adrian opened it.
A life insurance policy.
Her mother’s name.
Claire stared.
“Why was there a life insurance policy?”
The beneficiary was not Claire.
Not Margaret.
Not Adrian.
It was Victor Lang.
Claire’s breath stopped.
“My mother didn’t know.”
“Maybe she did.”
“Then why would she name him?”
“She wouldn’t.”
Adrian looked at the paperwork.
“The signature is forged.”
They compared it with her mother’s writing.
It was obvious.
“Victor took out a policy on her life.”
Claire’s face went white.
“And then she died.”
Adrian nodded.
“Exactly.”
They had proof.
But there was still one question.
Why hadn’t Victor collected the money?
They checked.
The claim had been denied.
Because Eleanor’s death had been ruled accidental.
The policy had been frozen.
Victor had failed.
Claire whispered,
“He killed her and lost the money.”
“Then there was another reason.”
They found it.
A second beneficiary.
A trust.
The account was designed to release funds only when Claire turned thirty.
Her birthday was next week.
Adrian stared.
“You’re the target.”
“Why?”
“Because when the trust activates, you inherit everything.”
“What everything?”
“The academy.”
Claire stared.
“The academy?”
Adrian nodded.
“And the investment company.”
Claire felt sick.
“How much?”
“At least $200 million.”
Silence.
Her mother had left her a fortune.
Victor had spent years trying to control it.
And Adrian had been protecting the only person who could inherit it.
Claire shook her head.
“I don’t want it.”
Adrian smiled sadly.
“Your mother didn’t want you to want money.”
“What did she want?”
“Justice.”
Claire looked at him.
“What did she want from you?”
Adrian hesitated.
“She asked me to teach you the song.”
“What song?”
“Her song.”
“The one I played?”
“Yes.”
Claire stared.
“She knew I’d find you.”
“She hoped.”
“Why?”
Adrian looked at her.
“Because she trusted me.”
Claire’s eyes filled.
“And now?”
“Now I trust you.”
They sat silently.
Then Claire asked:
“Will you help me finish this?”
Adrian nodded.
“Yes.”
“For the company?”
“For your mother.”
Claire smiled.
“Thank you.”
Before they could leave, Adrian’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
A voice spoke.
“You finally found the trust.”
Adrian froze.
The voice continued:
“Come to the concert hall tonight.”
“Come alone.”
Then:
“Or Claire dies.”
