She Smashed My $150 Million Heirloom, Now She’s Begging For Mercy

My grandfather was terminally ill. His only wish was to see me play our familys legendary piece, *The Tempest*, on our heritage cello at Lincoln Center.

But on the night of the performance, I was blocked outside the theater.

Only then did I find out that my girlfriend, Chloe, had secretly cancelled my solo. She did it just to give her crush Chases boy band the spotlight.

I waited outside the theater until the curtain fell, only to see her walking out with her arm around Chase, talking about going out for drinks to celebrate.

Grandpa passed away from the shock. But Chloe just accused me of making a big deal out of nothing.

"No one wants to watch that boring, dusty classical stuff anyway. I did it for the show's ratings."

"Chase is the leader of a top boy band with an unlimited future. How does your broken cello even compare to his singing and dancing?"

My mother kicked me out of Grandpas funeral.

She said I was the murderer who killed him. She screamed at me, saying I didn't deserve to inherit the Vance family's cello-making legacy.

Facing the accusations of my relatives, I was speechless.

I had personally promised Grandpa that I would bring *The Tempest* back to the grand stage and win the trophy at the National Showcase.

But I failed.

I knelt outside the memorial hall, bowed deeply three times, and walked home like a ghost. I sat on the sofa in the dark until midnight.

Chloe walked in smelling of alcohol. She flicked on the light and gasped, "Why are you sitting there in the dark without making a sound? You scared the hell out of me!"

I didn't say a word. I just stared at the red mark on her neck.

An unspeakable disgust rose in my chest.

She acted completely normal, walking over and throwing her legs across my lap, signaling for me to massage her.

"Sorry, my phone was on silent. I missed your calls."

Smelling the faint scent of men's cologne on her, I felt sick. I coldly pushed her legs off me and stood up to leave.

Chloe grabbed my arm, frowning with impatience. "Whats with the attitude?"

"So what if I swapped your performance? I told you there was a reason, and I already apologized. What more do you want?"

I remained silent. I thought back to this morning when the security guards blocked me outside Lincoln Center. She had texted me saying the schedule changed last minute and told me not to worry.

She even promised she would find a way to get me on stage.

Yet, I waited until the lights went out, and I couldn't even take a single step into the venue.

A sharp pain pierced my chest, making it hard to breathe.

"A reason? Your reason was staying out drinking with Chase until now?"

Her face stiffened, and she guiltily looked away. "Stop being so unreasonable. Who listens to classical cello these days? As the producer, I had to think about the ratings."

"If you really want to play that bad, go set up a stage in some local park. You can play there all day."

I let out a bitter laugh.

I wanted to play?

She knew exactly how many years of blood and sweat I had poured into this instrument. To me, it was never just a gig.

It was our family's legacy. It was the survival of a dying craft.

Yet, she destroyed my dream with her own hands.

I didn't want to waste any more breath. "We're done. Let's break up."

She stared at me, her eyes wide, screaming, "Youre breaking up with me over this petty little thing?!"

I didn't want to look at her for another second. I grabbed my jacket and slammed the door behind me.

Back then, Chloe only got her job as a producer at Lincoln Center because Grandpa used his connections to help her.

Grandpa loved her like his own granddaughter. He had even prepared our family's Victorian emerald-and-diamond setsomething even I rarely got to seeas an engagement gift for her.

In the end, we had only raised a parasitic snake.

I walked aimlessly down the rainy street. Suddenly, I saw the giant screen on the opposite mall broadcasting Chase's post-show interview.

He was wearing a flashy black sequin outfit, with the prestigious stage of Lincoln Centerthe stage I had dreamed ofright behind him.

When asked about the act he had replaced, he just smirked, his tone arrogant and dismissive.

"What was it called? *The Tempest*? Please, what era are we in? That kind of ancient junk is long outdated. It has no right to be on a stage like Lincoln Center."

"I want to give a special shoutout to our producer, Chloe Bennett. If she hadn't cut that act in time, we wouldn't have been able to perform and take first place..."

I couldn't listen to the rest of the interview.

My umbrella slipped from my hand, falling onto the wet pavement. A wave of bitterness flooded my throat.

So, this was the "reason" she talked about?

I let out a soft sneer. Suddenly, the weight in my heart lifted.

A heart that cold was never worth warming in the first place.

When the rain slowed down, I took a cab back to Lincoln Center.

The heritage cello I used for rehearsals was still backstage. I had to get it back.

That cello was the last remaining masterpiece hand-crafted by my great-grandfather. It was a priceless historical relic.

Originally, it was scheduled to be officially donated to the Metropolitan Museum of Art after the performance.

I was worried that the stage crew might damage it if they moved it carelessly.

But when I rushed into the backstage dressing room, I froze. Chloe and Chase were there, celebrating.

They were dancing closely, their bodies pressed together in an intimate hold.

"Ethan can't even compare to you, Chase. He spends all day hugging that piece of old wood. Did he really think he was worthy of performing here? In his dreams!"

Chloe's words drew loud laughter from the crew.

My fists clenched. She really had no soul.

Thinking of Grandpa's hopeful eyes on his deathbed, and my mother's hair that had gone white overnight, I couldn't hold back anymore. I burst into the room.

But when I looked at the table, horror struck me. My heritage cello was buried under a pile of random trash, and a half-open can of Coke was knocked over next to it.

The dark, sticky liquid was dripping right onto the rare wood panel of the instrument.

My heart stopped. I violently shoved Chase aside and roared, "Get the hell away!"

A heritage cello made of rare aged wood is extremely vulnerable to moisture. If the acidic soda soaked into the wood, the instrument would be ruined.

I dropped to my knees, frantically brushing the trash away, using my sleeves to carefully wipe the liquid off the strings and the body.

Before I could inspect the damage further, Chloe shoved me hard from behind.

"Are you insane?!" she screamed. "How dare you lay a hand on him? Do you know how many millions of fans Chase has? If he gets hurt, they'll tear you to pieces!"

Looking at her, I felt a deep, chilling amusement.

Amused by her sheer ignorance, and amused by my own stupidity for wasting three years of my life on her.

I slowly stood up and looked her dead in the eyes. "This cello is a registered national treasure. It was supposed to be moved to the Met next week. If it is damaged because of you, the price you pay will be more than you can ever afford!"

The room fell dead silent for a second.

Then, a loud scoff broke the silence.

Chase crossed his arms, walking toward me with pure disdain.

"You really love making up stories, don't you? Since when does the Met accept random garbage? If it's really that valuable, would you just leave it lying around here?"

"Chase is right," Chloe chimed in, sneering. "You're just jealous that Chase won first place, so you're here to make a scene!"

Chloe and Chase mocked me back and forth, and the rest of the dance crew joined in, laughing loudly.

I ignored them. I picked up the cello, wanting nothing more than to leave this place.

I had already failed Grandpa once. This time, I had to protect the last thing he left behind, no matter what.

Seeing me walk away, Chloe felt her pride wounded. She screamed behind me, trying to humiliate me further.

"Keep pretending, Ethan! I regret not dumping a loser like you sooner. A useless piece of trash like you deserves to spend the rest of your life hugging that rotten wood!"

Her words hit my ears, but they couldn't stir a single wave in my heart anymore.

I merely smiled. In a way, I was relieved.

At least I finally saw her for what she was.

Suddenly, Chase stepped in front of me and kicked me hard in the chest.

The cello slipped from my arms and hit the hard floor with a dull, heavy thud.

"No!"

When I saw the corner of the rare wood crack against the concrete, my heart shattered into pieces.

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.

Chases 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."

Chloe put on her jacket, walked over, and wrapped her arm around Chase's. She whined in a sweet, spoiled voice.

"Chase, you're way too generous. Two hundred dollars for a piece of moldy wood? He's making a massive profit!"

To show off, Chloe raised her heel and stomped directly onto the center of the cracked cello.

*CRACK.*

A loud, agonizing sound echoed through the room.

The already fragile instrument snapped clean in half.

My mind went completely blank. Chloe, however, shrugged as if nothing happened. "What cheap wood. I barely touched it and it broke."

"Oh ouch! A splinter scratched my ankle. Look, Chase, it's bleeding!"

My ears were ringing. I couldn't hear her high-pitched whining. I balled the two bills into a tight fist and threw them hard at Chase's face.

Before they could react, I lunged forward with all my strength and shoved Chloe's shoulder.

She couldn't withstand the force. Her slender body flew backward, crashing hard into the vanity mirror. Makeup bottles and glass shattered everywhere.

None of them expected me to fight back. After a brief pause of shock, the crew members threw themselves at me again.

They pinned me down, raining punches and kicks onto my body. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the agony in my heart.

I curled into a ball, shielding my head. Tears streamed down my face.

Chase wasn't satisfied. He picked up one of the broken halves of the cello, raising it high above his head, ready to smash it down onto me.

Right then, Chloe suddenly called out.

She looked at her phone, her face lighting up with excitement. "The security guard says the directors from the National Opera House are here! Theyre looking for the headliner!"

Her eyes shined as she grabbed Chase's arm. "Chase! They must be looking for you!"

"They were supposed to present the award tonight but had to leave early. They must have seen the recording of your performance and came back to congratulate you!"

"Go show them what you've got. If you get drafted into the National Symphony, you'll be set for life!"

Hearing this, Chase's eyes widened in shock, which quickly turned into smug anticipation. He immediately walked over to the mirror to fix his hair.

I wanted to laugh.

Congratulate him?

If Chloe hadn't bribed the judges, did Chase really think his mediocre, clown-like dancing was enough to get him into the National Symphony?

I glanced at the blinking red light of the security camera on the ceiling. The dead embers in my heart sparked again.

The security footage, the physical evidence, the witnesses. Everyone in this room today would pay in blood.

At that moment, the door to the dressing room was pushed open. A crowd of media reporters carrying cameras flooded in.

Chloe reacted instantly, screaming at the top of her lungs, directing all the cameras toward me.

"Look at this! A random psycho just broke in and assaulted our star! Is there no law in this city?!"

She lived up to her reputation, exaggerating every detail, telling the press how I was jealous of Chase's success and how I brutally attacked him. She painted me as a violent monster.

No matter how I tried to explain, my voice was drowned out by the flashing cameras and pointing fingers.

I saw the broken pieces of my cello lying on the floor, being kicked around by the careless reporters. The pain was unbearable.

I dragged my bruised body over and fell to my knees in front of the wreckage.

My hands shook as I gathered the splintered pieces. Hot tears dripped onto the ruined wood.

The legendary, extinct wood was now reduced to splinters, soaked in sticky soda, its original luster completely gone.

Chloe got more excited as she spoke, walking over to kick some dust toward me. "You shameless criminal! Chase is a rising star. If his career is affected by his injuries, you'll rot in prison!"

She pulled out her phone to call the cops, shouting at me.

"We have cameras here, and plenty of witnesses! I will make sure you pay for this!"

Just then, two figures walked into the room.

An elderly man wearing a sharp, bespoke tweed suit scanned the chaotic room. When his eyes landed on the broken cello in my arms, his face went pale with shock.

"What is going on here? Who did this?!"