Chapter 4

It was a Steinway my mom had specially bought for me—now coated in dust.

"No need to call a doctor," I said, my fingers gliding over the keys. "I have a better plan."

My hands flew across the keyboard, and Chopin's Revolutionary Etude erupted like a storm.

It was a notoriously tough piece, powerful and fast. When we learned piano together, she could never master it, no matter how hard she tried.

The music thundered through the room, and as I expected, Rosaline couldn't keep up her little "fainting act" any longer.

Her eyelids fluttered, her fingers twitching involuntarily.

Nothing…