Where Is My Daughter

A few hours later, Eros was in LA.

He had taken an Uber straight to Elsa’s beachside villa. He didn’t have time to go to his penthouse to get his own car or call his driver. He knew the older man would waste time, rambling about traffic rules and refusing to violate them.

Within minutes, Eros arrived at Elsa’s villa. It was the weekend, and Elsa was home. She sat in front of the grand piano in the living room—gold in color, its black and white keys gleaming under the soft light. She found it ironic how she only sought comfort in the piano when she was sad, despite promising herself years ago that she would never stop playing. Since having Valerie, she hadn’t touched it. Her daughter didn’t even know she could play. Valerie had seen the piano countless times but never paid it much attention. To her, it was just another lavish decoration in their home.

Valerie had gone to the grocery store with Scarlet, accompanied by security.