Chapter 3

Three years ago, this cello had been sent for a minor restoration.

The old master luthier had praised its pristine condition, warning me repeatedly that the wood was of a legendary grade and the acoustic quality was irreplaceable. It had to be preserved at all costs.

Because the materials were extinct, any major damage would make it impossible to restore.

I stood there as if struck by lightning, my legs trembling so hard I couldn't move.

But Chase wasn't done. He laughed, kicking the cello case. "Let me help you trash this garbage."

The rage in my chest exploded. I lunged forward, grabbing his collar, and growled, "Back off! If there is one more scratch on my cello, I swear to God you won't walk out of this room alive!"

Because of the sheer fury, my voice shook. But to them, it sounded like a hollow threat.

Chase’s expression darkened, and he threw a heavy punch straight at my face.

The blow landed hard on my jaw. The taste of blood filled my mouth instantly. I stumbled back several steps, nearly falling over.

Seeing me down, he wanted to teach me a lesson. He raised his fist again, lunging at me.

I wasn't a punching bag. I wiped the blood from my mouth, spat on the floor, and tackled him.

From the cancelled show to the ruined cello, all the pain and anger in my chest burst out. My eyes went red as I fought him with everything I had.

The rest of the crew was stunned for a second before they all rushed in to pull me off.

I was outnumbered. Within seconds, three guys pinned my arms behind my back. Chase stepped forward, putting his boot heavily on my face, pressing me into the floor.

Chloe stood on the side, clapping her hands in delight.

"So hot, Chase! You're a real man!"

Fully fueled by her praise, Chase smirked arrogantly. He gripped my jaw tight, forcing me to look up.

"Get on your knees, kiss my shoes, and beg for mercy. Maybe then I'll let you go. What do you say?"

I clenched my teeth, mustered all my strength, and spat blood directly onto his face.

"Trash."

Chase's face went completely cold. He wiped his face, and the surrounding crew members began egging him on, shouting for him to break me.

The next second, I saw him walking toward the cello lying on the floor. Panic seized me. I thrashed wildly, trying to break free from the hold.

"Chase! If you have a problem, bring it to me!"

But it was too late.

Chase stomped his heavy boot right onto the center of the cello's body. Then, he bent down and violently ripped the strings off one by one.

My eyes widened. I felt a nerve in my brain snap right along with those strings.

No!

Tears instantly flooded my eyes. A surge of adrenaline rushed through my body, and the three guys holding me could barely keep me down.

"Damn, this kid is strong!"

In the struggle, a sharp, dislocating pain shot through my left shoulder.

My arm was out of its socket. But I couldn't care less. I screamed at Chase with bloodshot eyes.

"Stop! You animal! Stop!"

But my agony only made them more excited. Chloe picked up another can of Coke and shook it violently.

Then, she popped the tab right in front of my face. The spraying soda forced me to close my eyes.

The sweet, sticky liquid rushed into my mouth, tasting incredibly bitter.

Not satisfied with just humiliating me, Chloe turned around and poured the remaining soda all over the exposed wood of the cello. Finally, she crushed the empty can and threw it at my head.

She jumped up and down, dancing to the background music as if she had just won a lottery.

"Oh look, Ethan is crying! What a baby! A grown man crying over a toy, so pathetic!"

My voice was completely gone. I could do nothing but watch them desecrate my family's legacy.

As the heir of the Vance family, I couldn't even protect my own instrument. What right did I have to talk about legacy?

Chase had his fun. He walked back over to me, pulled two crumpled hundred-dollar bills from his pocket, and slapped them onto my bloody face.

"Here. For your little toy."