Chapter 3

The third day was the day of my piano recital, which I had looked forward to for half a year.

For this recital, I practiced three hours every day after school, my fingertips developing thin calluses.

Dad had promised me that if I performed well, he would take the whole family to the mountain villa for a vacation after the recital.

Now, we were on vacation, but I had missed the stage forever.

At ten in the morning, the recital was about to begin, but I had still not appeared.

Ms. Carter, my teacher, called my mother's phone again and again.

Finally, the call connected.

"Hello, Mia's mom? This is Mia's piano teacher."

On the other end of the line, the background was noisy with the clatter of poker chips and Brenda's laughter.

Mom's voice carried an unnatural hesitation:

"Ms. Carter… is, is something wrong?"

Ms. Carter asked anxiously:

"Mia's mom! The recital is about to start! Mia isn't here yet! We're waiting for her! Where is she?"

Mom paused, then her tone became impatient:

"Oh, her? She's throwing a tantrum, locked herself in her room and won't come out."

"This child is getting more and more disobedient, we don't know what to do!"

I floated in the living room, watching Mom deal poker chips while lying on the phone, my heart tearing.

Just then, Brenda snatched the phone from Mom and yelled into the receiver:

"What's this about a recital? What's the point of a girl learning all these fancy things? Can she eat it?"

"She's just going to get married and have kids anyway! Our Mia isn't coming! She won't be coming anymore! You can just cancel the lessons!"

With that, Brenda abruptly hung up the phone.

On the other end, Ms. Carter stood frozen, clutching her phone.

She felt something was terribly wrong.

She knew how much I valued this recital.

I could practice a complex musical phrase all afternoon without eating or drinking. How could I possibly be "throwing a tantrum" at the last minute?

The more Ms. Carter thought about it, the more uneasy she felt. She immediately opened Mom's social media.

She found the name of the villa community and its location.

She then clicked on Dad's social media.

Two days ago, Dad had posted a series of scenic photos with the caption: "Mountain air is good, brought Leo out for some fresh air."

Ms. Carter scrolled through the photos, and when she saw the last one, her heart plummeted.

Ms. Carter didn't delay any further. She decisively called the police.

"Hello, 911? I need to report something. I suspect a child might be illegally detained in the trunk of a private car!"

Upon receiving the report, the police swiftly mobilized.

Following the location provided by Ms. Carter, they quickly found Dad's family playing cards in the villa community's game room.

Facing the sudden appearance of the police, Dad still looked arrogant and dismissive.

"Officers, have you made a mistake? Our family is just here playing cards, what law have we broken?"

A police officer sternly showed his ID:

"We received a report that you might be illegally detaining your daughter.

Please, where is your daughter, Mia?"

Dad scoffed, disdainfully throwing his poker chips onto the table.

"Is it a crime to discipline my own daughter?"

He pointed upstairs, saying indifferently:

"She's in her room upstairs, reflecting on her actions!"

"Kids throw tantrums, they're disobedient. You have to ground them for a couple of days, or they'll get out of control!"

Mom sat beside him, her face ashen, clutching the hem of her clothes, not daring to say a single word.