Chapter 3

I didn't understand what Andrew was thinking.

I was no longer part of the Quinn family.

He announced that himself, four years ago.

And what would I go back for? To be Liv's punching bag again?

I also didn't understand why someone of his status insisted on following me back to my 500-square-foot, one-bedroom apartment.

I put Pearl to bed in the bedroom, went to the cupboard, and took out a packet of instant coffee. But then I thought, he probably wouldn't drink something so cheap.

After a moment, I just got him a bottle of water.

His gaze fell on my right hand, and a trace of something bitter I couldn't decipher crossed his face. "Your fingers, are they better?"

I looked down.

On my right hand, my ring finger and pinky couldn't move.

It happened after Liv returned to the Quinns. We were visiting a family factory. She was curiously discussing a machine design with an engineer and, to test her idea, pressed the trial start button.

My hand was resting there at the time.

Before the accident, I was a rising star in piano performance.

It was the only thing I had over Liv. I wasn't as smart or capable. Only the piano was my thing.

When Liv first came back, whenever I practiced, she'd look wistful and say, "I've always loved music. If I hadn't been switched, I could play piano too."

But I could never play on stage again.

I couldn't accept it. I was a wreck for a long time.

I always felt she did it on purpose, and I couldn't help hating her for taking my only spotlight until she suddenly attempted suicide.

After she was saved, I instantly went from victim to perpetrator.

On that day, Andrew came back from seeing Liv, massaging his temples. "It's just not being able to play piano. Just two fingers.

"Was her life the price you demanded? Even if you're a good-for-nothing, even if you're not my real sister, didn't I tell you the Quinns would take care of you for life? Did it have to come to this?"

Ethan said coldly, "If not for the switch, the one who could play piano should have been Liv from the start. You just returned what you stole. Do you have to make a scene about this?"

They all told me my fingers couldn't be healed. My protests were useless.

But later, at the celebration party for Liv getting a patent based on that very machine design that crippled my hand, I overheard the doctor talking to Andrew.

"I said back then that Miss Quinn needed to go overseas for rehab immediately. She could have recovered over 90% function. But you never took her? It's very hard to recover now," the doctor said.

Andrew replied indifferently, "It's better if Mia doesn't play piano anymore. Liv always wanted to learn. Seeing Mia unable to play might make her feel more balanced.

"Anyway, I'll take care of Mia even if she's useless. Whether she can play piano or not doesn't matter."

So my dream, my future, in his heart, was just a counterweight to balance Liv's feelings.

When did I start being afraid of him?

It was probably right around then.

*****

"I heard you teach music at an institution," he said now.

I froze, eyes widening as I looked at him. "I just teach introductory music to little kids. It's simple. You don't need those two fingers.

"I'm not trying to return to the stage. I won't affect Liv's mood. I just need this job to support my child. And the doctor said my injury is permanent. I'll never play well again. Even so, you won't allow it?"

He was stunned. "Mia, I'm not trying to force you."

But whatever he said, I couldn't hear it anymore.

The old terror of having my life destroyed came rushing back. I couldn't lose this hard-won job just because Liv might be unhappy. I desperately held up my immobile fingers. "Look! I can't move them! Really!"

"If you don't believe me, try bending them yourself! They won't budge!

"I was your sister for so many years. Can't you leave me alone?"

He stood up, alarmed, quickly stepping forward to hold my trembling shoulders. "Mia, calm down. It's okay. Trust me."

But how could I not be afraid?

This new life I'd fought so hard to build.

The life Samuel Keyes bought for Pearl and me with his own.

"No!" I pushed him hard.

The more I struggled, the tighter he held me.

But after a sleepless night, I was no match for his strength.

In the struggle, everything suddenly went black, and I fainted.

I dreamed of Samuel.

He looked just like I remembered, in the courtyard of the bed-and-breakfast one morning, shaving by the water basin, tilting his head at me.

"Well, if it isn't our beloved little Mia? You're daydreaming again?" he called out with a grin.

He had a scar on his face that made him look a bit tough.

I fiddled with my dress. "Um, I ran out of money. A pregnant woman can't find work. Would it be possible to defer my rent for a few months?"

He burst out laughing. "That's all? You look so worried. I thought the world was ending.

"I've got plenty of rooms. Just need people to liven the place up. Stay as long as you need."

At first, he was just my landlord, a cop forced into early retirement due to injury and illness.

Later, he became my brother.

He was a brother completely unlike Andrew.

He seemed careless, but he was more thoughtful than anyone.

He helped every guest who had trouble.

I was sensitive and tightly wounded when I first met him.

He could have ignored me. But he keenly spotted my depressive symptoms and tried everything to cheer me up.

"Look, Mia. The swallow kite you drew is flying so high."

"Mia, eaten yet? Made too many sandwiches today. Come help me finish some."

At first, I thought he was a fool.

We weren't close. He was too nosy.

But gradually, I started to like him being in my business.

Unlike Andrew's hands-off, throw-money-at-it style, Samuel would gently, firmly tell me what was right and wrong when my spoiled, arrogant habits surfaced.

He'd be genuinely happy when I found a job, celebrating with an extra beer, then faking hurt when I fussed at him.

He taught me confidence. He taught me independence. He taught me to choose how to live.

He told me, "Mia, there's no day you can't get through."

We were just passing strangers, yet he gave me a real home.

When Pearl was six months old, the massive earthquake hit Southport.

The quake started a fire that engulfed the whole street with the B&B. He saved Pearl and me, then turned and ran back into the flames without hesitation.

I grabbed him, begging him not to go.

He just smiled and said, "Mia, I was a cop. Now people need my help."

"Don't worry. I'll be back," he promised.

He always kept his promises.

But this time, he lied.

He saved over a dozen people trapped inside. But when he went back in one more time, he stayed there forever.

I didn't even take a single photo with him.

He always said the scar made him look bad, and he hated having his picture taken.

But he took so many photos of Pearl and me.