Chapter 3

I took a photo of the insurance policy and stuffed it back into Nathan’s suit pocket just as it was.

Once I finished, I stood in the closet, my palms covered in cold sweat.

Years ago, when we formed the foundation, I put my mother's bequest into a donor account in my name.

Nathan asked to control the operating accounts so I could focus on the music and Rose.

I agreed because I trusted him.

Now I saw how neatly he had divided his life: Rose and me in the part he called family; Vivian and Leo in the part he had funded, insured, and prepared for public display.

I put away my phone, packed Rose's spare clothes, and headed to the foundation.

The Arden Arts Foundation took up two floors of the old theater.

Performance photos of past students lined the hallway, many of whom came from families that couldn't afford expensive music lessons.

When we first decided to start this project, my mother and I sat in her kitchen, writing out the first outline on the back of a napkin.

She said that things truly worth leaving behind shouldn't belong only to those who can afford them.

Later, Nathan framed that napkin and hung it in his office, calling it the beginning of our shared dream.

As I walked into the lobby today, the girl at the front desk looked relieved at first, then awkwardly uncomfortable.

"Mrs. Grant, Mr. Grant mentioned you might come by today."

"Rose's violin case is still in the rehearsal room. I'm here to grab it."

She didn't answer right away, only glancing at the office behind her.

Vivian stepped out.

She had changed into a light-colored suit, her hair perfectly styled, the red-eyed look from last night completely gone.

She held a tablet in her hand, looking as though she had just finished a routine meeting.

"Adeline," she spoke first. "I was just about to reach out to you."

"Where is the violin?"

"Leo took it home to practice," she said calmly. "Nathan thought that since he's participating in the launch of the new academy, he should get familiar with it first."

I stared at her. "That is Rose's violin."

"I know." Vivian lowered her eyes. "And because I know, I understand why you're upset. But Leo hasn't had much over the years. Nathan just wants to make it up to him."

She framed Nathan's choice as making amends, and Rose's loss as merely my emotional reaction.

She wasn't even lying. She genuinely believed she was owed this for Leo, and that Nathan finally stepping up was the outcome she and her son deserved.

Yet from start to finish, she had never asked if Rose was willing.

"Get the violin back," I said. "Today."

Vivian gripped her tablet, her tone remaining measured. "That's not my call to make. Also, Nathan asked me to remind you not to bring this up in front of the staff. The foundation needs stability."

I walked past her toward the rehearsal room.

The violin case was indeed gone, and Rose's spare rosin and practice notebooks in the locker had been cleared out too.

The old poster for the anniversary concert on the wall had been covered by a new version.

Prominently displayed at the center:

Leo Grant, First Student of the Legacy Scholarship.

Rose's name had vanished.

I pulled out my phone, snapped a picture of the poster, and walked into the archives room.

My keycard still unlocked the door, which held the foundation's earliest files.

Flipping to the launch records, I found the donation records from my mother's estate, as well as the children's music curriculum I had written by hand.

The original cover page read:

Curriculum Design: Adeline Harper.

Someone had covered it with a new binder title.

Now there was only one line left:

Arden Family Youth Program. Founder: Nathan Grant.

I photographed the files page by page until my phone warned me of low storage.

When I walked out of the archives, the front desk girl caught up to me and whispered, "Mrs. Grant, your keycard was just deactivated. Vivian said you should come back after you've handled things at home."

I looked down at the revoked card in my hand.

Nathan had never just taken a violin.

He was erasing Rose and me from everything we had built with our own hands, bit by bit.