Not a single drop of champagne spilled.
The laughter in the room began to fade.
Alexander frowned slightly but handed her the violin with exaggerated politeness.
“Go ahead,” he said. “Show us your little performance.”
The First Note
Lily’s fingers touched the violin.
The wood felt warm and familiar.
Inside the open case on the table, she noticed something that made her heart jump.
An old sheet of music.
Handwritten.
She recognized the handwriting instantly.
Her mother’s.
A piece Elena Navarro had composed years before her death.
Lily lifted the violin beneath her chin.
Across the room, the hired orchestra fell silent.
Their conductor, an elderly man named Maestro Daniel Whitmore, narrowed his eyes curiously at her posture.
It wasn’t the stance of an amateur.
It was the stance of someone who had lived with the instrument.
Lily drew the bow across the first string.
Everyone expected an ugly screech.
Instead—
A pure, perfect note filled the room.
Clear.
Resonant.
Beautiful.
The laughter stopped instantly.
She adjusted the tuning pegs with effortless precision.
The note A floated through the ballroom like light.
No one moved.
No one spoke.