Chapter 4

In the spacious living room, illuminated by the shimmering glow of a crystal chandelier, Edwin stared at his phone screen. The numbers in his account had just increased by several million dollars. His heart pounded—not with anxiety, but with an overwhelming rush of excitement. He exhaled deeply before letting out a small chuckle.

Luna, his wife, sitting beside him, immediately leaned in. “Well? Has it come through?” she asked, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Edwin nodded, then turned the phone screen toward Luna. “Look at this. Harry kept his word. A sum well deserved as a bridal price.”

Luna covered her mouth, her expression a mix of shock and elation. “Oh, Edwin, this feels like a dream! We don’t have to worry about money anymore! No more debts, no more burdens!”

Edwin laughed in satisfaction. “Exactly! We can buy a new house, a new car—anything we want.”

Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the room. With eager strides, Helena approached them, her eyes shining just like her mother’s. She had heard everything.

“Dad!” she called out, rushing toward Edwin. “I want my share of that money too!”

Edwin raised an eyebrow. “And what do you need it for?”

Helena plopped down beside her mother and pouted. “Shopping, of course! I need a new bag, new shoes, and I want to go to Paris!”

Luna chuckled. “Helena, dear, we just received the money. Don’t be too greedy!”

“But, Mom,” Helena puffed out her cheeks. “Arabella already got Harry, that rich man. At the very least, I should get to enjoy some of his wealth too, right?”

Yet deep inside, Helena was quite pleased with Arabella’s marriage to Harry. Now, she could pursue Mike freely. More than that, she was satisfied knowing Arabella was likely suffering. The rumors said Harry was cruel, a devil-hearted man with an unsightly face. Arabella’s misery was complete.

Edwin sighed and stroked his chin. “Helena, this money isn’t just for reckless spending. We must use it wisely. First, I’ll pay off our debts and invest in our coffee plantation. The rest—you can use as you wish.”

“But, Dad—”Helena protested, feigning disappointment.

Edwin suddenly stood and looked at his daughter. “Listen carefully! Arabella may have married Harry, but that doesn’t mean we can sit back and act foolishly. This money is just the beginning. If we use it wisely, we can get even more.”

Luna added, “Your father is right, Helena. If we play our cards well, we can live in luxury forever. To Harry, this amount is nothing.”

Helena sighed, then flashed a small smile. “Alright then… but can I at least buy something? I want to go shopping!”

Edwin smirked. “Fine, Darling. But don’t go overboard.”

Helena cheered in delight, while Edwin returned his gaze to his phone screen, his eyes gleaming with ambition. This money was merely the beginning. As long as Arabella remained Harry’s wife, he could gain far more than just a few million dollars.

***

In the quiet of the night, a faint melody of piano notes drifted from downstairs.

Arabella furrowed her brows. This wasn’t a horror movie, was it? There was no dramatic background score—only a soft tune, melancholic yet beautiful.

Who would be playing the piano at this hour?

With careful, slightly dramatic steps like a detective in a thriller movie, she crept through the dim hallway, descending the stairs toward the music room.

Harry sat upright at the grand piano, his fingers gliding effortlessly over the keys, weaving a classical melody that flowed with deep emotion. Each note cascaded like a gentle stream, sometimes surging with a mesmerizing intensity. The atmosphere in the room was serene, as if time itself slowed to listen.

Peeking from behind the door, Arabella slowly closed her eyes, allowing herself to be swept away by the harmony. She could feel the emotions woven into the music—longing, sorrow, and a quiet solace that touched her heart.

As the final note faded, Arabella stepped closer. Under the soft glow of the room’s lights, Harry’s silhouette and the grand piano cast a reflection on the polished floor, creating an illusion that the music itself lingered between them.

Arabella held her breath—not out of shock, but because this felt like a plot twist in a movie. The face she had believed to be ruined by an accident wasn’t as bad as she had imagined. She could see him clearly, without his mask.

A scar ran along the left side of his face, but rather than disfigurement, it looked like the mark of a warrior. His piercing eyes now seemed more vivid, more alive.

Damn! Even with that scar, Harry was still incredibly handsome!

Harry turned sharply and stopped playing immediately. In an instant, he grabbed his mask and covered his face once more.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice deep and heavy—like a man carrying a great secret.

Arabella shrugged. “I just heard the music. Your piano playing is beautiful.”

Without realizing it, her feet had already carried her into the room.

Harry studied her for a moment before exhaling a long sigh.

And for the first time since their marriage, Arabella genuinely wanted to know more about the man who was now her husband. Something beyond the scar on his face. Something beyond his habit of playing the piano.

Meanwhile, within Harry, another battle raged. He looked at Arabella, at the sincerity in her expression, at the way her eyes held no greed like the other women he had known. But he refused to believe it. He had been hurt too many times before.

He remembered the fiancée he had once loved—the woman who had sworn to stand by him through thick and thin. Yet, when the accident stole his ability to walk, she had left. Without a single word.

From that moment on, Harry had built towering walls around his heart, vowing never to fall into the trap of emotions again.

But no matter how strong the walls he had constructed, Arabella was the storm that might just bring them crashing down.