The morning sun cast golden rays through the grand windows as Amy Sinclair, Alexander Blackwood, Benjamin Carter, and the others arrived at the concert hall.

Stepping inside, Samantha Reynolds gasped at the lavish surroundings, her fingers tightening around her purse strap.

"After years in the industry, I thought I'd seen every luxury venue imaginable. Turns out, poverty really does put blinders on you. This place is beyond extravagant!"

Amy, too, took in the opulence—the crystal chandeliers, the velvet drapes, the gilded balconies. Though she had once lived among the elite as a Harrington, she had been a student then, too young to frequent exclusive clubs, let alone a concert hall of this caliber.

The venue wasn't massive—perhaps seating a thousand—but for a private performance like this, it was perfection.

Before long, Sebastian Kingsley arrived.

Samantha blinked in surprise. "Mr. Kingsley? What brings you here so early?"

Sebastian offered a warm smile. "Thought I'd come ahead to see if there was anything I could assist with."

His gaze lingered on the violin in Amy's hands.

"You didn't bring Celestial Nocturne today?"

Amy shook her head. "It's being serviced. I'm using my usual instrument."

She rarely took out her mother’s legendary violin unless absolutely necessary. She had planned to play Celestial Nocturne tonight, but a minor issue with the strings had forced her to send it for adjustments.

The difference in tone was unmistakable—any trained ear would notice.

Sebastian nodded, then lowered his voice. "Celeste, my contact confirmed the recording on your phone was wiped by a high-level hacker. But I’ve already reached out to an expert in audio recovery. It’ll take time, but we’re working on it."

He hesitated, regret flickering in his eyes. "I truly am sorry."

Amy shook her head. "Even if it hadn’t been you, whoever I’d gone to would’ve faced the same sabotage. Someone is determined to erase that recording—no matter the cost."

She had considered the possibility of Sebastian’s involvement, but instinct told her he wasn’t like Theodore Whitmore Jr.

Theodore had claimed to cut ties with Aurora, yet in reality, he had never truly acted against her.

But who had helped Victoria Langley delete that recording?

If someone could hack into Sebastian’s phone, Nathan Prescott certainly lacked the skill. Alexander, however, might have the resources—but would Victoria really trust him enough to confess? Or had she lied, spinning some tale about compromising files?

In the past, Alexander would’ve helped without question. But now? His trust in Victoria had eroded.

Amy exhaled, pushing the thought aside.

"Let’s prepare. Mr. Whitmore should be arriving soon."

Meanwhile, at Blackwood Manor...

Margaret Blackwood and Charlotte Blackwood were already bustling about, preparing for the evening’s banquet at the Whitmore estate.