Chapter 3

The main hall of the Stone residence had been turned into a semi-open event space. At the center, there was a circular stage. A piano stood ready, an antique lamp beside it casting a warm, golden glow.

Twenty round tables surrounded the stage, every seat taken.

William sat at the head of the table, sharp and spirited. When he spotted me coming in through the side door, he lifted his glass to me from across the hall.

The noise in the hall gradually faded away, and everyone's attention was on me.

I walked up to the piano without saying a word, took a seat, and took a moment to calm myself.

The moment my fingers touched the keys, the entire hall fell completely silent.

As the first note rang out, I could feel the guests at the nearest table visibly react. A middle-aged man paused, his glass hovering near his lips, completely forgetting to take a sip.

I played Siege, the piece I'd performed once three years ago. The music was wild and relentless, like steel cavalry thundering over ice, but at certain moments, it softened unexpectedly, like a flower blooming amid the wreckage of war.

I played for six minutes.

As the final note faded, the hall was dead silent. Four whole seconds passed before the applause crashed in, sweeping over everyone like a wave.

William was the first to stand, clapping with real enthusiasm.

Next to him, Emily jumped up and shouted, "Bravo!" Her mom immediately tugged her back down into her seat.

I stood up and gave a slight bow. As my gaze swept across the crowd, I spotted Ethan.

He was at the third table, near William's seat of honor.

Ethan leaned forward, both hands gripping the edge of the table, like he was riveted in place.

His eyes were locked on me.

I recognized that look; I'd seen it before in my life.

My ex-fiancé had looked at me the same way the first time he saw me. But Ethan's gaze was even more intense, heavier, like a drowning man who'd suddenly spotted the shore.

I looked away and turned toward the side door.

Footsteps sounded behind me, quick and urgent.

Someone called out, "Wait, please."

I stopped, but didn't turn around.

Ethan's voice came from behind me, low and a little stiff, like he was forcing himself to stay calm. "I'm Ethan Blackwood. Sir, could I get your contact info?"

I thought, 'Sir. He thought I was a guy. Makes sense; everyone in the circle had known the name Reed for three years and assumed it belonged to some middle-aged male musician.

'Tonight, I was up on stage in a plain dress, my hair loose, the lights dim, and he was sitting far away. He probably only saw a vague outline.

'Now that he was up close, he could see me clearly. But he still didn't recognize me. We'd been married for three years, and he'd never seen my face.'

I turned around and said, "My last name is Hart."

The spotlight hit my face.

Ethan's eyes traveled from mine to my lips, paused for a second, then dropped to my collarbone before coming back up to meet my gaze.

"Ms. Hart," he said, his voice lower than before. "That was an amazing performance tonight."

He paused. "I have a personal request. My grandfather's birthday is next month, and I'd like to invite you to play at our house. As for payment—"

"I don't do private gigs," I cut him off.

Ethan didn't look surprised, like he'd expected me to turn him down. He nodded, pulled a business card from his suit pocket, and handed it to me. "If you change your mind, give me a call."

I didn't take it. "Mr. Blackwood, the woman behind you is watching," I said, tilting my head to gesture behind him.

Sophia stood about ten steps away, holding a glass of red wine, her smile perfectly polite. But there was something not so friendly in her eyes when she looked at me.

Ethan glanced back, then turned to me, his expression unchanged. "That's a friend of mine."

"Oh," I replied. "Then you should go back to your friend."

I turned and walked away.

Behind me, Ethan stood where he was, not moving.

I could feel his gaze burning into my back, following me until I rounded the corner and he finally lost sight of me.