“And what is that?” he asked, as if she were an object out of place.
Olivia’s heart jumped. “My daughter, sir. School dismissed early. She’s very quiet. She won’t disturb anything.”
“I don’t pay you to bring your family,” he said coldly.
Olivia felt heat crawl up her neck. “It won’t happen again.”
Lily said nothing. She just held her book tighter.
That evening, the mansion transformed. Guests arrived in tailored tuxedos and silk gowns. Laughter echoed. Conversations about hedge funds and philanthropy floated through the air. Richard moved among them like a satisfied monarch.
At one point, he drifted toward the piano, holding a thick score.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced with a theatrical grin, “let’s add some culture to the evening.”
He held up the music: Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 3—the Everest of piano repertoire, a piece even seasoned virtuosos approached with fear.
“Let’s make this interesting,” Richard added. “If anyone here can play this… I’ll write a check for one hundred million dollars.”
The room erupted in laughter.
Olivia felt her chest tighten.
Then Lily stepped forward from the shadows.
“My mom is tired,” she said calmly. “But I can play.”