Chapter 3 - The Piano’s Shadow
That afternoon, I picked up Lily from school and drove to a small two-bedroom apartment I had managed to secure on a short-term lease in the Victorian Village neighborhood. It was old, with squeaky hardwood floors and tall windows that let in the crisp autumn light, but it was ours.
In the living room sat a brand-new 88-key electronic keyboard, set up on a sturdy metal stand with a small padded bench.
When Lily walked through the front door and saw it, her whole face lit up. She dropped her backpack onto the floor and stood frozen, her eyes wide.
"Mommy?" she whispered. "Is that... for me?"
"It's yours, baby," I said, sitting down on the floor beside the bench. "Everything on it is yours."
She stepped forward slowly, touching the polished black casing as if she were afraid it might disappear if she pressed too hard. Then, she reached out one small finger and pressed Middle C. The clean, resonant note filled the high-ceilinged room.
A tear slipped down her cheek, but a tiny, brilliant smile broke through at the same time. "It sounds pretty."
"You sound pretty," I said, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Your music teacher, Mrs. Gable, said she's going to start giving you private lessons every Wednesday after school."
"Did Daddy pay for this?" she asked quietly, her head resting against my shoulder.
"No," I told her, looking her straight in the eyes so she would know I was telling the absolute truth. "I paid for it. Because you are worth every single note, Lily. You are my top priority. Always."
While Lily sat happily at the keys, exploring notes and humming along, my phone chimed with a text message from an unknown number.
I think we need to talk woman to woman. Please.
I frowned, looking at the screen. A second later, a second message arrived.
This is Vanessa. Marcus is really upset. Can we meet for coffee? Just five minutes. Please don't destroy his life over a misunderstanding.
My blood ran hot, then turned completely cold. The audacity of this woman—to reach out to me after benefiting from the financial and emotional neglect of my child—was staggering.
I showed the message to Eleanor via text.
Eleanor replied instantly: Meet her. Take a recording device. Do not yell. Let her talk until she digs her own grave.
An hour later, after leaving Lily with my trusted neighbor, Sarah, I walked into a small cafe three blocks from Marcus's office building.
Vanessa was already sitting at a corner table. She was wearing a beige cashmere sweater, her hair perfectly styled, looking every bit the delicate victim Marcus loved to protect. But as I walked up to the table, I saw the tension in her jaw.
"Claire," she said, standing up as if to offer a warm greeting.
I didn't smile. I sat down across from her and laid my phone face-up on the wooden table, the recording app already active.
"You have five minutes, Vanessa," I said flatly. "Say what you came to say."
Vanessa flinched slightly, taking her seat. "Look, I know you're hurt. But Marcus was just being generous. Ethan has had a really hard time since my ex-husband left. He has real talent, and Marcus was just trying to help a child in need."
"By spending nine thousand dollars of my family's money?" I asked, leaning forward. "While refusing to buy his own daughter a two-hundred-dollar keyboard?"
Vanessa had the decency to look flushed, but her posture quickly hardened. "Marcus told me your marriage was already over. He told me you two were living like roommates. He said you were distant and didn't care about his life."
"Marcus is a liar who manipulated you into thinking he was a knight in shining armor, while he starved his own daughter of basic affection," I said smoothly. "Did he tell you he pulled five thousand dollars out of our joint account the night I left?"
Vanessa blinked, clearly caught off guard. "He... he said he was securing his assets because you were being unstable."
"He stole marital money," I corrected her. "And if that piano isn't returned to the store by tomorrow morning, my attorney is subpoenaing you as a co-defendant in a lawsuit for civil conversion of marital property."
Vanessa’s eyes went wide with panic. "What?! You can't sue me! I didn't buy the piano!"
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"You accepted a nine-thousand-dollar gift purchased with fraudulent funds," I said, standing up from the table. "You wanted Marcus’s attention, Vanessa. Now you’re going to get his legal bills too. Have a nice afternoon."
I grabbed my phone, stopped the recording, and walked out into the cool evening air, leaving her sitting alone in the cafe, staring after me in pure shock.
