TAKE YOUR FILTHY TOOLS OFF MY MOTHER’S PIANO!” THE BILLIONAIRE’S SISTER THREW A 64-YEAR-OLD TUNER’S CASE ACROSS THE BALLROOM

Chapter 2 – THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH

The silence in the ballroom was suffocating.

Camille wrenched her arm away from the security guard. She didn’t look at Jonathan. She stared directly at me, her expression twisting from panic into absolute venom.

“You have no idea what you’ve just uncovered, Eleanor,” Camille hissed. “You’re a piano tuner. Put the watch down and walk away while you still can.”

“Answer the question, Camille.” Jonathan’s voice was barely a whisper, but it commanded the entire room. He took a step toward his sister. “Did Dad have another family?”

“Dad was a fool!” Camille finally snapped, her composure shattering completely. “He spent his last ten years funding a secret life in Seattle with her sister!” She pointed a trembling finger at me. “When Mom found out, she didn’t divorce him. She protected our inheritance. She used the foundation to buy their silence!”

My stomach plummeted. My sister, Sarah, had vanished three decades ago. I had spent years searching for her, filing police reports, and handing out flyers. All this time, the billionaire family I worked for had known exactly where she was.

“You paid her off?” Jonathan asked, looking at the piles of cash in the cello case.

“No,” Camille laughed bitterly. “Mom didn’t pay her off. Mom cut her off the day Dad died. That money in the case? That was supposed to go to the orphanage to keep the girl quiet and hidden. But Mom couldn’t bring herself to send it.”

Maya shrank back against the grand piano, her small hands gripping the edge of the polished wood.

“They told me my parents died in a car crash,” the little girl whispered.

“They did,” Camille said coldly. “Six months ago.”

I froze. Six months ago. The exact same time Jonathan and Camille’s mother had died.

“Wait,” Jonathan stepped between Camille and Maya, shielding the child. “Mom died of a sudden heart attack. Are you telling me Dad’s mistress died at the exact same time?”

Camille looked away. Her silence was a confession.

I felt a cold sweat break out on my neck. I looked down at the cello case, my eyes scanning the velvet lining. There was a small tear in the fabric near the bottom. I reached down and pulled the velvet back.

Hidden beneath the lining was a manila envelope.

I pulled it out and opened the metal clasp. Inside was a single sheet of paper. A toxicology report.

“Jonathan,” I said, my voice barely audible. “Your mother didn’t die of a heart attack.”

He turned to me, his face pale. “What?”

I handed him the paper. “She was poisoned. With arsenic. And according to this report… so was my sister.”

Before Jonathan could read the document, the massive oak doors of the ballroom slammed shut. The heavy deadbolts clicked into place. The lights in the ballroom suddenly cut out, plunging two hundred guests into total darkness.

And in the pitch black, a man’s voice echoed through the sound system.

“You should have left the piano alone, Eleanor.”