Masked In Nobility: Secrets Of Mrs. Chavez by Selina Gorges

Chapter 569

Early in the morning the next day, Elliot paced around anxiously in the Golden Exhibit Center's break room, in such an agitated state that he lost his temper nearly eight times in less than two hours. Clyde, holding his swollen face from Elliot's beating, glowered at Elliot. This was a familiar pattern-whenever Elliot was upset, he would take it out on Clyde.

Clyde had been wanting to resign since ages ago, but thinking of his sick sister, he swallowed his resentment, vowing to make Elliot pay one day.

Elliot splashed a cup of coffee on Clyde, his voice laced with malice as he demanded, "Where is my brother? Why isn't he here yet? Did you tell him that if he doesn't show up, I'll sever ties with him?"

Ever since Derek's phone call, sleep had eluded Elliot. Whenever he drifted into slumber, Yvette's blank, emotionless face would materialize in his dreams,

He thought resentfully. Why has Yvette returned to Mysonna after so many years? I ve destroyed every piece of evidence when I stole the song. So what if she came back to expose me? What can she prove? No one will believe her. Im a world-class pianist, while Yvette's a nobody. What else can she do if I deny?

The most critical piece of evidence is the recording in Derek's hand. All these years, despite countless threats and pleas, he refuses to hand it over. All I can do is tell myself to not be scared, but Yvette's shadow looms large. Clyde stole a glance at Elliot, murmuring. "I have conveyed your message, sir. However, Mr. Ross did not offer any response."

Seeing Elliot's face contort in anger, Clyde masked his satisfaction with a face full of fear.

"Sir, I think Mr. Ross will definitely come. You're his brother; of course, he'll support you," Clyde added. Elliot's grim expression improved after he heard that.

I must make Derek hand over that recording today. Without that recording, there will be no way to prove that I'd plagiarized Yvette's song' Elliot thought to himself.

Composing himself after throwing tantrums in the break room, Elliot stood at the entrance of the Golden Exhibit Center. waiting to greet his most important guest-Paolo, the president of the International Music Association

fleet of black business cars pulled up. Paolo, the renowned president of the International Music Association

appearance was unremarkable, his authority within the music industry was absolute. He became the president at the age of thirty and had maintained his influential

and a living legend His approval was a golden ticket to success, and anyone fortunate enough to catch his eye was virtually guaranteed to rise to the top of

years ago, Paolo took on his latest mentee, the prodigy Aria who had skyrocketed to fame four years ago and was personally acknowledged by Paolo as the

a mask in public. Only a few had seen their face. They had

who struggled to produce anything noteworthy after one hit, Aria composed ten exceptional pieces in just three years. Seven of

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his hand respectfully. "Mr. Fontana! It has been two years since our last encounter. How have you

gave only a curt nod, his response lacking any warmth. Let's go," he said

inside, followed by

his jaw in frustration, thinking. Paolo is still as arrogant as ever, giving me a cold shoulder. Once I join the International Music Association, I will make sure he regrets

that came to watch the recital before catching up with

entrance, a black Jeep arrived with

black, exuded an intimidating presence, her sharp

immediately commanded the attention of the guests. The group, with their strikingly charming Clusian looks, effortlessly captivated the gaze of many

Elliot received a message that caused his face

to leave Paolo's break room, he rushed to his break room and shut