Chapter 180

The abrupt change in Beatrice and Leonard's expressions sent ripples through the gathering. Murmurs died down as guests redirected their attention to the grand piano, intrigue flickering in their eyes. A wave of bewilderment spread - what could have shaken the Blackwood matriarch and patriarch so profoundly? Even Dominic felt it, his sharp gaze narrowing with dawning comprehension.

He straightened abruptly, his voice cutting through the hush. "This... this is Mr. Montclair's unfinished magnum opus!"

"Montclair?" A shocked whisper broke out.

The room plunged into stunned silence, all eyes locking onto Dominic in disbelief.

That name carried the weight of musical royalty.

The Montclairs of Sterling were the undisputed aristocracy of classical music. They didn't merely play - they redefined the very essence of piano artistry.

More significantly, the family patriarch currently chaired the International Music Council, one of Sterling's most prestigious institutions.

Yet Dominic wasn't referring to the current family head. He spoke of Julian Montclair.

Julian had been the younger brother, the family's prodigal genius, a legend whose brilliance still echoed through concert halls.

His story was etched in musical lore.

A child prodigy, he'd captivated global audiences by age ten, dominating international competitions and performing to enraptured crowds worldwide. Critics hailed him as the second coming of Mozart, a once-in-a-century talent.

But fate had other designs.

At twenty, on the cusp of his prime, a tragic accident claimed his life.

The loss reverberated through the music world - a star extinguished too soon.

It was as if the heavens had reclaimed their favored son, unwilling to share such divine talent with mortals.

Julian left behind one final composition - a piece forever incomplete.

He'd performed fragments just once, at an intimate private recital. With no recordings surviving, the work became myth. Countless musicians attempted reconstructions, their efforts only highlighting the original's unreachable perfection.

Skeptical murmurs spread through the crowd.

"How could Dominic possibly know?" someone challenged. "That was decades ago. He wasn't even born when Julian died. How can he recognize it from just the opening bars?"

Dominic's voice rang out, firm and unwavering. "There's no error. My mentor worshipped Julian. Though he never mastered the full piece, he practiced the prelude obsessively. I've heard those notes a thousand times - they're etched into my memory."

Beatrice stepped forward, her voice tinged with wistful remembrance. "He's correct. I attended that final performance. I heard Julian play it myself."

Julian's music had scored Beatrice's youth, that haunting, unfinished melody lingering in her heart like an unresolved chord.