Chapter 4
Thomas wanted me to become just like Mom—a perfectly poised and elegant socialite.
But I couldn't stand being molded by him.
A reckless urge to burn it all to the ground erupted from somewhere deep inside me.
I set the piano ablaze.
When the flames roared to life, I smashed the window, desperate to make my escape.
Through the thick smoke, I saw Thomas charging into the inferno.
He wasn't there to save me. He was there for the piano.
Just then, a shattered crystal chandelier, glowing red-hot from the flames, came crashing down from the ceiling.
I watched as it slammed into Thomas.
But I didn't hesitate. I leaped out the window without a second thought.
"Miss Foley?" Kane's voice dragged me back from the nightmare of my memories.
I glanced at him, then at the bowl of cereal and the thick finance book lying on the floor.
The cereal kept me alive.
The finance book would kill me.
History was repeating itself.
I laughed until tears streamed down my face.
Turned out, Thomas never once thought of letting me go.
Fair enough, I guess. After all, I'd wanted him dead once, too.
I slowly reached out and flipped open the textbook, settling onto a chair and painstakingly reading each word.
Liam was so shocked by my sudden obedience that he rushed off to report to Thomas.
Soon, the basement door swung open, and Thomas walked in.
When he saw me calmly sitting there with the book, reading without a fuss, the tension in his face finally eased a little.
"You came to your senses?" he asked.
I didn't say a word.
Seeing me so compliant seemed to put him in a visibly better mood.
He told Liam to move my things back upstairs to the second floor.
It wasn't my old room, but at least it had a bed and a window. It felt like a normal place to live.
Thomas stood in the doorway, watching me, and for once, his tone was gentler.
"Ember, I know you hate me. But with our parents gone so early, as the eldest, it's up to me to make sure you stay on track," Thomas said.
He added, "A daughter of the Foley family is supposed to marry into a well-respected household. Your reputation can't have any blemishes."
He glanced at the red blotches on my skin, took a brief pause before he went on, "I had someone look into those marks. Seems you just had an allergic rash from some cheap paint—it's nothing serious.
"I've already arranged for the best dermatologist to come see you tomorrow. They'll be cleared up in no time.
"Focus on getting your health back. As for the baby, I'll have a doctor get rid of it.
"From now on, you'll study hard with Professor Garrison. Once you've learned everything you need, I'll hand over a part of the family business to you."
I kept my head down, staring at the dense text on the page, and replied softly, "Got it, Thomas."
My compliant tone was enough to make Thomas drop his guard completely.
He nodded in satisfaction, turned and left—didn't even bother locking my door anymore. He even had the staff bring over piles of clothes and everything I liked to eat.
For the next few days, I was on my absolute best behavior.
I attended lessons like clockwork, and ate whatever was put in front of me.
Thomas dropped by a few times, and once he saw I was keeping my nose clean, he stopped fussing over me and dove back into his business, gone from dawn till dusk.
I'd been waiting for my opportunity.
At last, I got it—one afternoon when Thomas was out of town for a business meeting.
I distracted the servant who was supposed to watch me, climbed over the low wall in the backyard, and slipped out.
*****
In Samuel's exam room, he glanced at my latest test results and just kept shaking his head, looking more and more concerned.
"Seriously, why did you wait so long before coming in?" Samuel asked. "You missed out on the treatment you should've gotten early, plus all the emotional stress and physical drain on you these days—your immune system's totally shot."
I clutched the hem of my shirt, my voice trembling as I asked, "Can I still be cured?"
Samuel stayed silent for so long, his silence stretching on until I could barely breathe.
"I'm sorry, Miss Foley. It's too late," he finally said. "If you'd been hospitalized that night, maybe there would've been a chance."
My head buzzed, completely blank.
My voice was barely a whisper. "So how much longer do I have?"
Samuel took off his glasses and sighed.
"If you really take care of yourself and keep your spirits up, maybe—at most—a month or two," Samuel finally said. "Treasure the days you have left."
*****
I walked the streets dejectedly, my mind blank.
I only had one or two months left.
After years of me and Thomas torturing each other, all that was left for me was this tiny scrap of time.
Did I still hate him?
Of course I did.
But when one was staring death in the face, all that burning hatred just kind of lost its edge. Suddenly, none of it seemed all that important anymore.
After all, he was the only family I'd left.
I wandered aimlessly, getting bumped and jostled by the crowd.
Suddenly, I stopped dead in my tracks.
There, in the window of a corner music store, a piano sat quietly.
It was an antique piano.
The mahogany body and ivory keys shimmered beneath the soft glow of the lights.
It was an exact match to the piano I'd burned all those years ago.
I still remember how Thomas charged straight into those flames that day.
He would throw his life away for an object, all because it was once Mom's.
After hating Thomas all my life, and now leaving like this, it all just felt like a loss.
I didn't want to keep hating him. I was just too tired for that.
Even if it was just once, I wanted him to know I was not just the stubborn, disappointing little sister he always thought I was.
I walked right into the shop and asked how much the piano cost.