Chapter 85

Laurel could no longer keep up appearances. Being threatened by someone younger, even without an audience, bruised her pride.

She nearly snapped back but stopped herself. After a moment, she lowered her head. "I didn't realize your grandfather had already handed over the family's authority. You're right. This is on us. I failed to raise my daughter properly. I hope you'll find it in your heart to forgive us."

"Mom!" Percy's voice trembled with disbelief. Watching his mother bow her head to Rylie filled him with dread.He nearly lunged forward, but Laurel tightened her grip on his wrist.

"Percy! Control yourself," she hissed. Her hand shot to his neck. "Apologize!"

His pride stung, but under her stern gaze, Percy clenched his jaw and mutered, "I'm sorry, Rylie."

Rylie knew who the true puppet master was. Of the three, Laurel schemed the most. She rose from her seat."I came on behalf of Grandpa and my brothers. Paola, since you're fine, I'Il take my leave. Rest well."

Just as she stepped out, Percy turned and punched the wall, frustration spiling out."Mom! Paola! Are you really going to let her push us around like this?"

Laurel placed a hand on his shoulder. "You're always so quick to act. Do you actually believe I bowed down to that sly little girl?"

Percy looked up. "What are you saying?"

Paola,sitting on the bed, slowly unwrapped the bandage from her wrist. Her voice came out low. "I fell for Rylie's trick again. I didn't expect her to be this cunning. She's got the video showing my theft. I can't let anyone see it."

Percy stared in shock. Her wrist showed no injury. The blood had been faked. His mind reeled. "So it's true then? What my friend told me about the recital?" He stepped closer, his voice raised. "Paola, you really stole Rylie's music? You copied a song from someone like her?"

He could hardly believe it.

Shame burned Paola's cheeks, but she still spoke up. "She trapped me on purpose! That piece started with

my idea! I was the one who came up with it! She only used my concept to write it!"

Percy had no grasp of music, but something about her words didn't sit right."If it really came from you,why couldn't you write it yourself?"

Paola froze. The question silenced her. Embarrassment swelled inside her chest.

Every artist knows inspiration comes and goes like a spark. But how many could actually turn that spark into something real? Who could do that? Not her. She'd spent days revising draft after draft. Spencer had rejected them all. The only version he praised was the one Rylie had scribbled in minutes.

Paola figured Rylie must have seen the discarded drafts and found a wvay to push the idea further. Was it possible she really carried the Owen family's gift for music? Could she truly be a genius?

Paola clenched her jaw. "What makes you think I'm not capable of composing something that good? Rylie stole my concept. There's no other explanation."

Laurel quickly backed her up. "Rylie never studied music. If she has any skill at all, it came from using Paola's ideas. That's the only reason her piece sounds decent."

Percy looked calm on the outside, but something inside him wouldn't let go of what Rylie said earlier.

"Percy, don't forget your enlistment check-up is tomorrow. Head home and rest. Don't stay out late."

His mother's words sent him out of the hospital. As soon as he left, a man in a hat entered the room.He looked like a photographer. After inspecting a camera hidden near the ceiling, he turned to Laurel."Ms.Garrett, the footage is clean. We can edit it as needed."

Laurel looked pleased. Paola, on the other hand, fidgeted. "Mom, are you absolutely sure the man you hired won't mess anything up?"

"I didn't take chances," Laurel replied. "That little brat is sneaky. I paid seven hundred thousand for a top-tier thief. No matter where she stashes that video, he'll get it back."

While they plotted indoors, Rylie walked out of the hospital, helmet in hand, ready to hop on her motorcycle.Just as she was about to mount, she spotted a group of boys shoving an elderly beggar.

The man tried to shield his body, but the kids pushed him over.

From the ground, his strained voice cracked. "Stop! Don't do that!"

Rylie's expression turned icy. She marched over and seized the leader by the collar. "At your age, and you're already picking on the elderly? Who raised you?"

Startled by her fierce tone, the boys scattered and ran.

Rylie crouched to gather the man's bread. Once she helped him up, he took her hand and said with gratitude, "Thank you, dear. I had no idea what to do."

"It's nothing." Rylie smiled as she steadied him onto his cart. "Some kids just need someone to knock sense into them."

After he left, she turned back toward her motorcycle, but a sudden breeze caught her attention. She froze mid-step. Something didn't feel right.

A sharp, woody scent lingered in the air. It wasn't the kind of smell you'd associate with a beggar.She knew that perfume well-- an exclusive fragrance made in tiny batches. It sold for nearly a million.

Her hand slipped into her pocket. It was empty.

Rylie turned instantly and dashed in the direction the old man had gone. But he was already gone. Not a trace. Whoever he was, he knew how to move undetected. Still, Rylie believed no one could disappear so cleanly that she couldn't catch them.

She stood by her motorcycle again, one foot planted, staring down the vacant street. Her voice came soft with a grin. "Interesting."