Chapter 5 - The Conservatory Secret
Mateo took another aggressive step forward, closing the distance between himself and Gabriel.
“Hand over the tablet, Gabriel,” Mateo demanded, his voice trembling with manic desperation. “We sign the digital copy of the German contract right now, or this ends very badly for you. You think people will question it if you have a nervous breakdown after losing your mind over Irene’s death?”
Gabriel didn't flinch. Years of high-stakes corporate negotiations had taught him never to reveal fear to a predator.
“You think I came into this room unprotected, Mateo?” Gabriel asked quietly. “Before you walked through that door, I backed up every single file on this tablet to a cloud server managed by an independent security firm in Zurich. If my heart rate drops or if I don't enter a safety PIN by 9:00 PM, those files are automatically transmitted to the Mossos d'Esquadra and the Financial Crimes Division of the Spanish High Court.”
Segovia gasped, dropping his briefcase onto the floor. “Mateo! He’s bluffing! He couldn't have set that up in thirty minutes!”
“Try me,” Gabriel said coldly.
While Mateo hesitated, caught between rage and terror, the distant sound of the piano began to play again from the back of the house.
It wasn't a recorded song. It was Lucía.
From the sensory room, she had opened the secondary upright piano—an instrument Gabriel had placed there years ago for Nicolás’s music therapy—and began playing a complex, soaring classical composition.
The melody cut through the tension in the living room. It was Liszt’s Consolation No. 3—a piece of extraordinary technical difficulty and immense emotional beauty.
Segovia turned his head, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Who... who is playing that? That’s concert-level execution.”
Gabriel looked at Segovia, a grim smile touching his lips. “That is the woman you called 'the help.' The woman who won a scholarship to Salzburg while you were busy stealing from a child.”
The music rose in volume, filling the high ceilings of the mansion. But it wasn't just a performance—it was a signal.
Lucía had used the acoustic resonance of the house to trigger something extraordinary.
Down the hallway, the double doors of the sensory room opened. Nicolás walked out into the corridor. He was not crying. He was not covering his ears. Guided by the rhythm of the music he trusted, the nine-year-old boy walked with purpose toward the living room.
In his small hand, he carried a shiny metallic object he had retrieved from Lucía’s bag—a professional digital recording device that Lucía used to record her piano practice sessions.
The red recording light on the device was blinking steadily.
Mateo turned around just as Nicolás walked into the grand room. The boy didn't look at his uncle or Segovia. He walked directly to Gabriel, held up the recording device, and pressed the stop button.
The small speaker on the device instantly chimed, playing back the last ten minutes of audio in crystal-clear quality:
“We didn't rob him!” Segovia’s recorded voice panicked through the speaker. “It was an advance! We were going to replace the funds as soon as the German merger closed tonight!”
“Hand over the tablet, Gabriel,” Mateo’s recorded voice demanded. “We sign the digital copy... or this ends very badly for you...”
Mateo stared at his nephew in utter disbelief. “You... you little brat...”
“Touch him,” Gabriel warned, stepping between Mateo and Nicolás with absolute deadliness, “and I will kill you with my bare hands.”
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Outside the grand front entrance, the dark blue lights of three police cruisers flashed against the rain-slicked driveway. Sirens echoed down the quiet avenues of Pedralbes.
Lucía stepped into the room, her phone in her hand. “I called the Mossos d'Esquadra ten minutes ago, Mr. Valdés,” she said calmly. “I told them a corporate robbery was in progress.”
