Chapter 89
A shadow flickered across Paola's face. "Why would Rylie choose this moment, of all moments, to throw herself into the competition? Is she trying to make some kind of statement?"
Thoughtful silence settled as Isabella considered her friend's words. "That's definitely possible. With her joining, does that mean you'll be standing across from her atthe finals?"
Agreement was written all over Isabella's response. After exchanging a flurry of hurried messages, Paola wasted no time in ending the conversation and reaching out to Laurel with the news about Rylie.
She spoke with urgency. "Mom, Rylie's just entered the Wesdown International Piano Competition. She's clearly trying to prove something. What am I supposed to do now?"
Anxiety was clear in the way Paola's shoulders sagged, and Laurel felt it like a knot in her own chest.With her tone steady, Laurel said, "From the moment you learned to walk, I made sure you studied with the best piano teachers. You've put your heart into this for years, and now you're going to let Rylie rattle you? Do you truly believe you can't outplay someone who's never even had real lessons?"
Color rose in Laurel's cheeks as her frustration grew. Paola's answer came after a long pause. "But Mom,Rylie's actually good. Sometimes I wonder if it's because I'm not a direct Owen, like she is..."
A dry laugh escaped Laurel. "Genes? If that's what you're worried about, remember this -your father isn't Kendrick's son, sure, but he's still the nephew. Owen blood runs in him, and has it done him any favors?"
Paola said nothing, shrinking from her mother's biting words about her father, her eyes fixed on the floor.
Softening at the sight of her daughter's pain, Laurel pulled her close and spoke gently. "This isn't about who you're related to. Rylie only managed something special because she borrowed your ideas. You're the reason she stood out. Your talent is miles ahead of hers."
For the first time that evening, Paola's eyes brightened as hope took root. She clung to Laurel's sleeve and whispered, "I want to do this, Mom. I want to show Rylie what I'm capable of. Will you help me?"
Wrapping her daughter in a tight embrace, Laurel answered without hesitation, "Absolutely, you have my support."
...
Much later, with night pressing against the windows, Rylie sorted through her emails at her desk. The shrill ring of her phone broke the silence-Ron Bentley was calling.
She picked up, her voice edged with fatigue. "Ron, what's so urgent at this hour?"
The Wesdown International Piano Competition counted Ron among its senior organizers, yet he was far more than an administrator; royal blood from Ostium flowed in his veins, and music was his lifelong pursuit.
Excitement laced his words. "Word is out that you plan to unveil the restored version of that incomplete classical score you bought a while back. Are you really doing it at the competition?"
A steady composure marked Rýlie's response. "I managed to finish reconstructing it, but it took a while."
Surprise lingered in Ron's voice. "I honestly didn't think you'd ever make that piece public."
Without missing a beat, Ron continued, "You've even agreed to play the final piece yourself, stepping in as a judge. The participants this year will witness a legend at the piano-X. Aria, live."
Rylie allowed herself a small, wry smile. "If I'd had a choice, I wouldn't be doing this."
"That's all I needed to hear. Don't think you can change your mind at the last minute," said Ron.
"You have my word. I'll take my seat at the judges' table," replied Rylie.
Once the call ended, she peeled the wrapper from a lollipop and popped it into her mouth. Afterward, she logged onto her dark web account to skim through fresh emails.
A new tip from Britton caught her eye. The navy had hauled up weapon fragments for analysis and looked set to bring in specialists for further dismantling. If the research panned out, the arms factory she worked with might miss out on a future contract.
She hardly worried. Most of her shipments had gone north, and she knew others would try to duplicate her work. Still, none came close.
Her technology remained out of reach, no matter how hard the competition tried.
Another alert reported that a full shipment of weapons had surfaced in Crolens and Troale. But the goods had disappeared without a trace, whisked away by a crime syndicate soon after arrival. The authorities were scrambling to investigate.
Crolens. That name made her pause. She muttered to herself, "So they wound up in Crolens? I've never hacked their port surveillance system before."
Strict firearm regulations defined the country where she resided. Without government backing and considerable ingenuity,moving weapons into Crolens would have been impossible.
At the same time, a corruption probe loomed over Crolens' mayor. The scandal had grown when his secretary was caught up in the massive healthcare scheme tied to the Wilde family, leaving the mayor with little room to deny involvement.
That left only one pressing question: Who had the power to greenlight this shipment into Crolens?