The CEO’S Unplanned Heir novel (Aurelia and Leopold) novel Chapter 1273

"You're such a brown-noser, always buttering up Aunt Aurelia, telling her she's as pretty as a picture," Nina accused with a roll of her eyes.

Mira pouted, "That's not true. I don't kiss butt. You never kiss a horse's butt, and it might kick back. And Aunt Aurelia really is beautiful. Everyone says so."

Sheryl let out a yawn, feeling the day's toll from the endless card games, "Alright, girls, cut it out and hit the hay. I'm hitting the sack too. Nighty-night," she said, ending the video call.

Mira reached for a bar of chocolate but Nina slapped her hand away, "No chocolate before bed, and it'll rot your teeth."

"I'll brush them," Mira retorted.

"You're such a little rascal, never listening. I give up," Nina said, hands on her hips and fuming.

In another room, Skyler lay in bed and hit play on some eerie tunes. The creepy music was unsettling, and he planned to edit it into segments the next day.

He doubted Geoffrey had hidden any clues in the track, and it was more likely an attempt at a mind game, maybe even hypnosis.

But Skyler was just a kid, and kids couldn't be hypnotized, right? Still, how did Geoffrey manage to keep tabs on him?

Security had combed through Mossy Rock Retreat and didn’t find a hidden camera.

Geoffrey loved his cryptic games, and he'd relished them since he was a boy, reveling in others' confusion and boiling with anger if anyone cracked his codes. He was a real piece of work, no wonder he had no friends.

He was probably holed up in Elysium by now, but surely not as content as Skyler, who wasn't busy concocting schemes with a mind as dark as a dungeon.

The twisted music, Skyler realized, was altered, different from what he'd heard before. He wasn't a music buff, and someone else must have done this for Geoffrey.

Closing his eyes, Skyler drifted off to sleep, only to be woken the next day by a knock on the door.

"The composer is such an odd duck, churning out such ear-sore material," she mused.

"Maybe the composer was battling their own demons," Kane suggested, ever the philosopher.

"Or it's the work of a twisted psycho, crafting a killer tune quite literally," Beverly chimed in.

Skyler added, "There was 'Gloomy Sunday,' once dubbed 'the Hungarian Suicide Song.' It was linked to over a hundred suicides and banned for 13 years. Even psychoanalysts and psychologists couldn't fully fathom the composer's intent."

"But wasn't the song destroyed?" asked Beverly, intrigued.

"Some folks with a morbid streak always manage to stash away the scores," shrugged Skyler.