Time to beginthe end,
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY
David used his father’s old security codes to slip through the service entrance. The codes still worked – Marcus had never bothered to change them, too busy controlling everything else.
The first movement of the symphony filled the building. He hadn’t heard Aria’s compositions in months, hadn’t let himself remember how good she was at this.
He watched from the wings as she conducted. Something was off about her movements – too rigid, too mechanical. Sweat ran down her neck despite the hall’s air conditioning blasting at full fome
Her posture shifted between movements. Most people wouldn’t notice, but he’d spent countless nights watching her practice in their bedroom.
The second movement hit harder than the first. The strings were aggressive, almost violent. David’s stomach chumed as he recognized the underlying melody–it was playing the night his father died.
Across the stage, Killian caught his attention and pointed subtly at Arla. The detective had noticed ton–her left hand trembled, and she kept squinting like she couldn’t see straight
The third movement made David’s chest tight. He picked out pieces of Sofia’s favorite songs woven into the music. The realization made him want to throw up. Aria’s breathing looked labored now, but her fare stayed calm. She’d always been good at keeping up appearances
When the final movement started, David moved closer to the stage. Protocol could go to hell. Arla’s arms shook visibly as she conducted, but she kept going. forcing the music forward
The sound swelled. Aria straightened her spine, arms spread wide.
Then the collapsed.
David got to her first she felt too light in his arms, like she’d been hollowing herself out for months.
“You’re ruining the scene,” she mumbled, her lipstick smearing as she tried to smile. “Always had bad timing.”
The orchestra stopped playing someone in the audience screamed. People stood up, phones out, recording everything.
“What did you take? David’s voice cracked “Tell me what you took.”
She smeared conducting chalk across his face as she touched it. “I wrote this ending months ago.”
Killian was next to them now, yelling into his phone for medical help. David looked at Aria’s eyes and knew it wouldn’t matter.
“I didn’t want any of this,” he said. It sounded stupid even to him. “Solia, Dad-
“Stop talking “She mald barely breathe now. “Just listen for once.”
you listen,” David choked out, pulling her closer,
His tears fell on her face, mixing with her sweat. “I loved you. God, I still love you. Even after everything – Sofia, Dad, all of it. We could have foxed this. We could have-“His voice give out as her body trembled against him.
“I loved music more than you,” she wheezed. “More than anyone. That’s important.”
Her eyes undocused. “There’s another movement coming. I can hear it..
Her hand dropped. She went still.
David held her until the paramedics pulled him away, until Killian made him let go, until they took her body out through the stage door.
The investigation ended quickly. They traced the poison to his father’s collection At midnight,
ther video confession in his email.
The media coverage was intense. They called it a tragedy, a scandal, a perfect storm of revenge. The symphony recording sold out immediately.
Two months later, David sat in the empty concert lull. He came here most nights now. The cleaning staff had stopped asking questions,
He could still see her at the podium. He’d watched the security tapes enough times to memorize her last day – how she’d set everything up, salon the poison, conducted until she couldn’t anymore.
The silence felt wrong. He ran his hand over the podium, feeling the mark her ring had left. His diamond first, then his father’s bigger one. Both were in evidence
now
Her copy of the
symphony scope sat in his briefcase. She’d written notes all
Howrit:
“Make it hurt here” “Sofia’s fall.” “Marcus’s death.” “David’s betrayal. “For Mom.”
She’d planned every secund
He played the aecording from that night. The sound quality was perfect – of course it was. Ara wouldn’t have missed that detail.
David closed his eyes. The music brought everything back the attairs, the deaths, the perfect plan she’d executed note by note.
They’d all played their parts exactly how she wrote them. His father’s greed, Sofia’s trust, his own stupidity, her revenge. She’d conducted them like her personal
outhestra.
The recording stopped David looked at the Femply podium where she’d died. He left a rose there – same color as her lipstick that night.
Tomorrow, someone new would conduct here. Different music, different stodes
But at right, when the ball was empty, her symphony would play. The last performance of Ana Mantinelli, who tumed revenge into music and died conducting it.
