Page 2 of Twisted Empire: King's Gambit

To this day, I still don’t know what she traded for my freedom, and I doubt she’d ever tell me.

After I take a bow, and the crowd disperses, the stranger from the front row approaches me. He’s dressed elegantly and suave, with a glimmer of excitement in his eyes.

My eyes flicker to the two burly men who are walking toward me, ready to draw their weapons, but I shake my head and focus on the man in front of me.

“Ms. Smith, I presume?” he said, extending a hand. “I’m Martin Walsh, a scout for the city’s philharmonic. Your performance tonight was extraordinary. I’ve been looking for a talent like yours for the longest time.”

His words hit me like a baseball bat to my stomach, but in a good way! Wait, that came out wrong.

“Thank you, Mr. Walsh. It’s an honor,” I reply, hoping I don’t appear eager, even though I want to scream right now. The city’s philharmonic! I haven’t been able to get their attention for the longest time and now this?!

“I don’t normally do this, but someone recommended I come here tonight, and honestly, I was blown away,” he seemed to gush while my heart felt like It’s being squeezed.

A thank you came out of my mouth again and I know I must sound like an idiot, but he simply chuckles and offers me a smile.

“I would like you to come in for a performance interview,” he continued, handing me a card with the details. “If you pass, you’ll join the ranks of my Philharmonic. Think about it.”

Holy shit, what?!

“I will, thank you,” I say as I take the card from him, my voice barely above a whisper while I try to remain calm. “It was lovely meeting you, sir.”

“Oh, it was my pleasure,” he says, drawing my hand to his lips and kissing it. A sliver of disgust shoots through me since I hate being touched, but I keep the smile on my face, anyway.

As Mr. Walsh departs, I turn to see one of my guards, Jackson, his face serious but kind. He’s been with me since I left home, a quiet supporter. I grin when I see him, then I do a little dance while letting out a squeal.

“Did you hear that, Jax?! An interview! A real one!” I exclaim, holding his biceps and literally jumping up and down. My other guard, David, grabs my cello and the case while Jax speaks with me.

“You did great tonight, Reginetta,” he says, patting my arm. “Your father would be proud.”

“Thank you,” I smile, knowing that in his own way, Dad was supporting my dreams. “Can you imagine this? Someone recommended me!”

“Why wouldn’t they? You are Gabriette Lombardi–”

“Shh, Jax,” I say, looking around in case someone heard him. “You know not to use my real name here.”

Jax sighs. He sees it as me hiding and not being proud of my name when it’s the complete opposite. If those close to me here had to find out my father was Alberto Lombardi, they would all stay clear of me.

Here I am Bella Smith, a nobody with a boyfriend and two best friends who mean the world to me; not Gabriette Lombardi, mafia princess.

As we left the venue, the city’s nighttime glow bathed the streets, a world of possibilities unfolding before me. A normal life, filled with music, was within reach, and I had the courage to grasp it.

My past might be a shadow, always lurking but never overtaking me. But my future now was a symphony, and I was ready to write my part in it.

It was a song of hope, and it played just for me.

GABRIETTE

Emma’s practically vibrating as she lays out a spread of hors d’oeuvres like she’s competing in some Food Network challenge.

“Come on, Bella, it’s a celebration! You landed an interview with the philharmonic!”

Lucy, the more down-to-earth one of the pair but still full of pep, adds her two cents. “This is a big deal, Bella. You deserve to enjoy it and to celebrate it!”

I should be ecstatic, I know. Hell, a week ago I would’ve killed for a chance like this. But now? Now I’ve got an interview with Mr. Walsh, the Mr. Walsh of the philharmonic, and I’m twisted up inside like a pretzel.

Double the nerves, double the stress.

I muster a smile, but it feels more like a grimace. “I know, I know. It’s just... what if I fuck it up? What if I’m not good enough?”

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