I Ended My Mother’s Stolen Legacy Onstage Chapter 07
The recording ended, throwing the room into an uproar.
Mason’s face had turned chalk–white. He never imagined that his private call with Emma would be played here.
The recording was of a call Mason made to Emma on the night of Dad’s accident.
It had taken me five years and various channels to track down the original wiretap archives.
Emma had made one fatal mistake. She thought everything was flawless, but she had overlooked one thing.
Back then, certain telephone lines were subjected to surveillance.
And I had found that incriminating recording.
“Mr. Shaw, what else do you have to say?”
Mason’s mouth opened and closed, unable to utter a word.
Emma suddenly let out a maniacal laugh. “Samuel, do you know what your dad was like?”
She looked at me, a twisted glint in her eyes. “He was so stubborn. I offered to support you financially, but he refused. When I landed him performance opportunities, he rejected me, too. He was determined to make it on his own. But just how far could he get on his own?
“He was never destined to become a top pianist, so I made the choice for him.”
I gripped the microphone. “What do you mean by that?”
Emma suddenly raised her voice. “If he lived, everyone suffered. If he died, everyone was free. It’s the same for you, right? Without him dragging you down, you became an international judge with so many awards to your
name.
“All of this was possible because he’s dead. You should thank me.”
A stunned silence filled the room. Everyone was shocked by her words–not because they believed she was right, but because her shamelessness was beyond imagination.
I looked into her eyes. “Emma, do you know what he was going to play during the concert that day?”
She paused.
“He was going to play ‘Nocturne‘. He wanted to visit Vobley He promised to watch the sunrise with me when he returned. Everything you failed to do, he did. He composed this piece. You stole his music and gave it to the son you had with another man. And now, you want me to thank you?”
I inched closer to her.
“Listen here. The reason you’ve reached this far today is because of his death. You should thank him.”
The doors to the banquet hall were pushed open from the outside.
In walked Grandpa, wearing a cotton jacket that had faded from repeated washing. In his arms, he cradled a metal
box.
“Emma, do you still remember me?” His voice wasn’t loud, but everyone could hear him.
Emma glanced at him, a flicker of emotion flashing across her eyes.
