Chapter 4

I cranked the doorknob with my left hand. My right was a mess of gauze and medical tape. The emergency room doctor had already given me the bad news—my fingers were pulverized, and no amount of physical therapy would ever get me back on a Steinway.

Michael stood in the hallway like a bouncer.

"Stella is taking up piano," he barked, slamming a cardboard box against my chest. "Give me your scores. She needs them."

I looked down at the box. Inside were the notes I had scratched into the concrete of the basement with my bare nails during those…