I told my son I lost my job he kicked me out. But he didn’t know I had just received $8M. So I…

That evening, just as I returned to my hotel, my phone rang. So what the hell did you do to ruin Chloe’s job? Her whole family is coming after us now, demanding answers. How do you plan to fix this? I answered breezily.

Let them come. That’s your problem now. Didn’t I already tell you? We’re done.

I owe you nothing. You stirred up trouble and now expect us to deal with the fallout? That’s not right. That made my blood boil.

Trouble? Are you kidding me? Chloe defamed me in public. She brought it on herself. The police were there.

You think they just showed up for fun? If this turns into a bigger mess, don’t think you’ll walk away clean either. Ethan went quiet for a beat. When he spoke again, his tone had softened noticeably.

Alright, alright. Let’s just move on. By the way, there was that hesitant tone that calculated shift in interest.

So, mom who’s your new employer really? They must be seriously loaded and they seem to be treating you pretty well too, huh? I laughed silently to myself. There it was again, the scent of money and he was sniffing around like a bloodhound. It doesn’t matter who they are.

It has nothing to do with you, Ethan. Let me say it one more time, we’re done. For good.

And with that, I ended the call and blocked every single number from him, Nicole and their entire family. But what I didn’t expect was that just a few days after moving into my new home, I ran into someone I hadn’t planned on seeing again, Susan. That afternoon, I was at a high-end piano showroom downtown, browsing options for a grand piano.

I had just settled onto the bench, ready to test out the keys, when the front doors swung open and a flurry of footsteps echoed through the space. In walked Susan, surrounded by her ever-present circle of socialite friends, their voices loud and shrill with self-importance. What kind of store is this? Susan scoffed.

Letting just anyone sit down and bang on a piano? How unprofessional. Her eyes landed on me and the sarcasm practically dripped from her smile. Margaret, did you even wash your hands before touching that instrument? Weren’t you in healthcare work all these years? God knows what kind of germs you’ve got crawling all over your fingers.

Who would have thought such an expensive piano could be so casually contaminated? Her little clique chuckled and whispered among themselves, eyeing me with barely disguised contempt. So that’s the housekeeper-in-law, you were talking about? One of them asked, not even bothering to lower her voice. Tisdy.

Can’t afford to buy one so she comes here just to pretend? How embarrassing. Another woman, her hair piled into a dramatic bun and oversized sunglasses perched on her nose, gave me a disdainful once-over. Ugh.

Nothing more irritating than someone trying to act classy while carrying knock-off handbags. The two sales associates at the showroom exchanged a subtle glance, clearly uncomfortable. One of them approached me and offered a warm, professional smile.

Please, feel free to continue trying the piano, ma’am. That’s exactly what they’re here for. No purchase required.

I nodded politely then turned back to the sheet music and prepared to play. Trying to ease the growing tension in the room, the other sales rep approached Susan and her group. Ladies welcome.

Is there a particular model you’d like to see? I’d be happy to walk you through our selection. Susan shot me a glance full of frost then replied sharply. We were going to take a look but now I’m not so sure.

Clearly, this store doesn’t care about its instruments or its clients. I gave the store associate a calm smile and said clearly, I’ll need a bit more time to try a few. I fully intend to make a purchase today.

The woman with the bun scoffed and dropped into a nearby sofa, arms crossed. Sure you do. I’ll just sit right here and watch how you talk your way out of this.

Can’t wait to see how you slither off without buying anything. Susan tugged her friend’s arm. Come on, let’s go somewhere else.

Just being near people like this puts me in a bad mood. But I knew better. Susan had already heard from Chloe that I’d bought two villas.

She was clearly unsure whether to believe it and afraid I might prove her wrong again. But her friend wasn’t so easily swayed. I’m staying right here, the bun-haired woman said with a smirk.

I won’t sleep tonight if I don’t see this woman fall flat on her face. Her words seemed to rally the rest of the group. They all stayed waiting for what they assumed would be an entertaining disaster.

I chose one of my favorite pieces and let my fingers fall gently on the keys. The notes floated into the room, soft and steady, the melody of moonlight sonata flowing through the air. The bun-haired woman twisted her mouth in mockery and snorted.

What even is that? Sounds like noise. Who taught her to play? She thinks she belongs in a piano store with that mess? Give me a break. But before I could respond the sales associate by my side started clapping, genuine admiration in his eyes.

Man, that was beautiful. Honestly, that’s one of the most moving renditions of moonlight sonata I’ve heard in a long time. The bun-haired woman rolled her eyes so hard she nearly tipped over.

Oh, please. If she was that talented, she wouldn’t be stuck in whatever dead-end life she’s living now. Your flattery’s a little too obvious, sweetheart.

Just then a few young people stepped into the showroom. They didn’t say a word, simply stood behind me, quietly listening. The moment I lifted my fingers off the keys, a round of spontaneous applause erupted from behind.

Wow, that was incredible. I’ve studied piano for many years, and I still can’t bring out that level of emotion in moonlight sonata. Seriously, you captured the whole hazy dreamlike mood so effortlessly.

You’re amazing. Susan stood nearby, her brow tightening, eyes narrowing in visible confusion. She couldn’t seem to wrap her head around it.

How could someone she’d always looked down on play with such grace, such skill? Truth was, I owed this moment of peace, of music to my late employer. She came from a prestigious family, the most elegant, sincere woman I’ve ever met. She never once looked down on me.

In fact, she treated me more like a younger sister than an employee. Whenever she had free time, she invited me to join her in learning music, painting, literature, and I never brushed it off. I studied with dedication, deeply grateful for her generosity and patience.

Over the years, she didn’t just change my lifestyle. He transformed my entire spirit. I continued playing, letting the keys carry my thoughts, while the bun-haired woman’s face soured under the growing stream of praise.

She lowered her head, clearly unsettled. Then, in one last desperate attempt to save face, she snapped her head up. So what if you can play one song? Big deal.

If you’re really that impressive, pay for the piano right now. I had already made my choice. Calmly, I handed my card to the associate.

Thank you, ma’am, he said cheerfully. That’ll be $15,000. I entered my PIN.

Transaction approved. Ma’am, may I have your name to finalize the invoice? He asked. Of course, I said and wrote it down.

Margaret Turner. The bun-haired woman blanched. Her head jerked toward Susan in disbelief.

You said she worked for someone else, that the villas she bought weren’t even hers. Susan’s face shifted. She walked over, her expression caught between disbelief and something far more tangled.

Y-you bought this piano yourself? And those two villas? Those were yours, too. I smiled. The invoices and contracts have my name on them.

If they’re not mine, then whose would they be yours? Her face twisted instantly, a storm of shock, envy, suspicion, and bitter regret flickering across it. Margaret, you were just a housekeeper. Where did all that money come from? Every dollar I spend was earned legally and rightfully.

My voice was sharp cold. Susan scoffed. Oh, please.

You must have done something shady to get it. The bun-haired woman chimed in immediately. Yeah, maybe she’s a scammer.

That’s how people make fast money these days. No sooner had those words left her mouth than another woman, who’d been quiet all this time, suddenly snapped. What? Scammer? Don’t even joke about that.

She fumbled for her phone, her hands shaking. Hello, 911? I need the police. There’s a con artist here.

Before anyone could react, she hung up and stormed toward me, trying to grab my clothes in a fit of rage. The store staff rushed to hold her back. She was crying, shouting, completely hysterical.

And finally, I understood the reason behind her outburst. She’d been swindled out of over $100,000 six months ago. She’d never gotten it back, and the pain still festered so deeply inside her that the mere mention of scam shattered her control.

Her fury wasn’t aimed at me. It was aimed at a shadow from her past. The police arrived quickly.

And to my surprise, it was the same two officers I had met the day I purchased the villas. One of them raised his brows in recognition, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Oh, it’s you again, ma’am? I nodded politely…