Chapter 17 - The Shadow Over the Seine
The private estate of Count Henri de Laurent was a magnificent eighteenth-century chateau nestled along the banks of the Seine,
illuminated by hundreds of flickering wax torches and grand crystal lanterns.
The private parking court was filled with sleek Bugattis,
Rolls-Royces,
and armored Maybachs belonging to Europe's wealthiest aristocrats,
bankers,
and art collectors.
The heavy atmosphere inside the grand ballroom was stifling,
perfumed with expensive French lavender,
aged cognac,
and subtle,
corrupt arrogance.
I walked through the double gilded doors on Cassian's arm,
stepping onto the polished parquet floor like an empress entering a conquered city.
I wore a breathtaking floor-length dark sapphire gown encrusted with micro-diamonds that shimmered like a midnight sky with every step I took.
A delicate silver tiara sat gracefully atop my pinned hair,
and around my neck hung the familiar silver chain bearing my father's brass tuning key.
Beside me,
Cassian looked like a dark god of war disguised in a immaculate midnight-blue tuxedo.
His presence radiated such immense,
unbridled authority that wealthy French aristocrats instantly parted like the Red Sea as we moved toward the central gallery.
"Look at them stare,
Elena,"
Cassian whispered smoothly in my ear,
his hand resting with protective dominance on the small of my back.
"They know who brought down Ashcroft and Sterling."
"Word of your concerto has reached every major parlor in Europe."
Standing near the center of the gallery was Count Henri de Laurent.
He was a tall,
arrogant man with sleek silver hair,
wearing a tailored velvet suit decorated with fake family crests.
Beside him,
resting on a raised velvet dais,
was the lost twin Imperial Bösendorfer grand piano.
The instrument was a marvel of artistic engineering,
crafted from deep reddish rosewood,
inlaid with mother-of-pearl accents,
and bearing the hand-carved initials: S.W. & T.M.
My heart leaped into my throat as I saw my father's initials engraved right beside Samuel Weiss's signature.
"Mesdames et Messieurs!"
Count de Laurent announced,
raising his glass of champagne to command the attention of the high-society crowd.
"Tonight,"
we offer the ultimate prize of classical history!"
"The unreleased,
master twin piano of Samuel Weiss!"
"Bidding will commence at twenty million euros!"
"That piano is stolen property,
Count,"
a clear,
resonant voice cut through the air,
shattering the cultured quiet of the room.
The entire crowd gasped in unison,
turning around to face me as I stepped out from the circle of billionaires.
Count de Laurent's eyes narrowed,
a sneer of profound European elitism twisting his aged face.
"And who are you to interrupt my private auction,
madame?"
he demanded coldly.
"I am Elena Voss,"
I replied,
my voice echoing off the high frescoed ceiling with absolute,
unshakeable authority.
"Daughter of Thomas Marlow,"
legal heir to Samuel Weiss,"
and owner of the Royal Opera House."
"That piano was built by my father's hands,"
and you acquired it through illegal forged documents provided by the late Lord Sterling!
Count de Laurent let out a sharp,
mocking laugh,
gesturing to his personal security team lining the room.
"Ah,
the famous American housemaid who married a gangster!"
he sneered arrogantly.
"You have no jurisdiction in France,
little girl!"
"This instrument belongs to my private estate,"
and you will be thrown into the Seine if you step any closer!
Cassian stepped forward,
closing the distance between himself and the Count in a fraction of a second.
Before the Count's guards could even react,
Cassian reached out,
his large hand clamping around Count de Laurent's throat like a vice of solid iron.
He lifted the French aristocrat off his feet,
slamming him roughly against the mahogany side frame of the grand piano!
Gasps of horror and terror erupted across the room as French billionaires backed away in total panic.
"Listen to me very carefully,
you pathetic leech,"
Cassian growled,
his dark voice dropping into a terrifyingly low,
lethal register that made the Count's knees shake.
"My wife did not travel across the Atlantic Ocean to negotiate with you."
"She came to claim what is hers."
"If your guards take one more step,"
my men outside will sink your private yachts,"
freeze your Swiss accounts,"
and expose your human trafficking routes to the French Interpol before midnight.
Count de Laurent choked for air,
his face turning a deep,
terrified shade of purple as he looked into Cassian's cold,
unforgiving eyes.
"Wait... please!"
the Count squeaked out in desperate panic.
"Let... let the girl play it!"
"If she can prove the twin lock matches her key,"
the piano is hers!
Cassian looked back at me,
a dark,
breathtaking smile touching his lips as he casually dropped the crying Count to the floor like a sack of trash.
"Show them,
my queen,"
Cassian said smoothly,
stepping aside.
I walked up to the rosewood piano,
pulling the brass tuning key from my neck.
I inserted it into the hidden side lock near the treble board.
CLICK.
The internal mechanism unlocked instantly,
releasing a small velvet compartment containing a set of hand-written letters from Samuel Weiss addressed directly to my father,
praising him as his truest successor.
I looked down at the Count,
who was trembling on the floor,
surrounded by silent,
terrified guests.
"Auction over,
Count,"
I said,
my voice dripping with absolute victory.
May you like
"Pack your bags,"
because Interpol is already at your front gate.
