The melody she played was unlike anything Jake had ever heard before—a fusion of classical technique with something more primal and modern. The transparent violin glowed with subtle blue lights that pulsed with the intensity of the music, casting ethereal patterns across her face.
Jake leaned against the doorframe, forgetting himself for a moment. His weight caused the hinges to creak, and the sound pierced through the music like a discordant note.
The woman's eyes snapped open. Her bow paused mid-stroke, the final note hanging in the air between them.
"I'm sorry," Jake said quickly, embarrassed at being caught. "I was just passing by and heard... I didn't mean to interrupt."
She regarded him with a measured gaze, neither angry nor welcoming. "Most people knock before entering a private rehearsal."
"You're right. That was rude of me." Jake took a step back toward the door, then hesitated. "That violin—I've never seen anything like it."
A hint of pride crossed her features. "It's custom. The Crystal Voice."
"Is that what they call you too?" The words slipped out before Jake could stop them.
The woman's expression shifted, wariness replacing the momentary openness. "Who's asking?"
"Jake Monroe," he replied, then immediately regretted giving his family name. People always reacted to it—either with sycophantic interest or carefully masked disdain.
Recognition flickered in her eyes. "Monroe Shipping. Your family owns half the docks in the northern hemisphere."
"Something like that," Jake said, uncomfortable as always with his family's reputation. "But I didn't come here to talk about ships or money."
"What did you come for then?" She lowered the violin, resting it gently against her side.
Jake found himself without a ready answer. "The music, I suppose. It was... calling to me."
She studied him for a long moment, as if trying to determine whether his interest was genuine. Finally, she nodded toward an empty seat in the front row. "I have fifteen minutes before the sound engineer arrives. You can stay until then, if you want."
Jake slid into the seat, careful not to make any further disruption. "I'm Jake," he said again, this time omitting his surname. "Just Jake."
A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Amity," she replied, lifting the Crystal Voice back to her shoulder. "Just Amity."
As she began to play again, Jake found himself leaning forward in his seat, entranced. The melody was both sorrowful and defiant, like a voice crying out against the constraints of tradition. It resonated with something deep inside him—his own silent rebellion against the path his father had laid out.
When the final note faded, Jake realized he'd been holding his breath.
"That was..." he began, but words failed him.
"That was just practice," Amity said, though her eyes betrayed her pleasure. “However you probably should return to your room before your parents send a search party I wouldn’t want your father to know you’ve been hanging around the low life gold digger he had called me earlier.”
Jake felt his face flush with embarrassment. "You heard that? I'm sorry. My father... he doesn't—"
"Doesn't understand people who don't fit into his neat categories?" Amity finished for him, carefully placing her violin in its case. "Don't worry. I've heard worse from people with far less money."
The casual way she dismissed his father's wealth caught Jake off guard. Most people he met either fawned over the Monroe fortune or pretended not to care while clearly calculating its value.
"How did you know I was there?" he asked.
Amity clicked the latches on her case closed. "Performers develop a sixth sense. You have to know your audience, even when they think they're invisible." She straightened up and met his gaze directly. "Also, your mother has a carrying voice."
Jake winced. "At least she defended you."
"She recognized me," Amity said with a shrug. "Most people don't when I'm not on stage. It's... refreshing."
A door opened at the back of the venue, and a man in the ship's staff uniform appeared. "Ms. Jenkins, we're ready for the sound check whenever you are."
"Thank you, Carl. Five minutes?" When the technician nodded and retreated, Amity turned back to Jake. "That's your cue to return to your world, Mr. Monroe."
"And what world is that exactly?"
"The one where people like your father decide who belongs where." There was no bitterness in her tone, just matter-of-fact observation.
Jake felt a sudden need to distinguish himself from Miles. "I'm not my father."
"No one ever is," Amity replied, her expression softening slightly. "But we all carry their expectations, don't we?"
Before Jake could respond, she added, "I'm performing at the Captain's Gala tonight. The formal one in the Grand Ballroom. Will you be there?"
"Yes," Jake said, surprised by the invitation. "My parents wouldn't miss it."
"Well then," Amity said, lifting her case, "I guess we'll see if you're truly not your father."
Jake stood there, uncertain how to respond. There was a challenge in her words, but also something else—curiosity, perhaps. He found himself wanting to prove worthy of that curiosity.
"I should go," he said finally. "But I'll be listening tonight. Really listening."
Amity nodded once, a small acknowledgment that seemed to carry weight beyond the simple gesture.
As Jake made his way back through the ship's ornate corridors, he couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted. For years, he'd gone through the motions, playing the dutiful son while keeping his true thoughts locked away. But something about Amity's music—and her direct, unflinching gaze—had cracked something open inside him.
His father would expect him to network with the right people tonight, to advance the family interests but why couldn’t they a line with his own, he wanted to fall in love with someone special in her own right not just eye candy when at grand balls.
Amity had her own secrets she wasn’t really from a middle class family she was really an heiress to one of the wealthiest business man in Australia her brother was Liam was heir so she made a fake story that her parents were middle class to stay out of the politics of rich society, but she knew Liam couldn’t be too far away.
Back in his suite, Jake found his parents preparing for the evening. His mother was fastening a string of pearls while his father adjusted his cufflinks with military precision.
Miles Monroe's expression shifted, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face for perhaps the first time in Jake's memory. The businessman calculating risks had momentarily replaced the controlling father."Jake," Miles said, his voice lower now, "we should discuss this privately.""There's nothing to discuss," Jake replied, feeling a strange new confidence. "I'm not asking for your permission or your blessing. I'm telling you how things are going to be."Captain Morrison, sensing the shift in power dynamics, cleared his throat. "Gentlemen, this deck needs to be cleared for regular operations. I suggest you continue this... negotiation elsewhere."Richard Jenkins-Whitmore straightened his jacket, his face a careful mask once more. "Amity, we'll speak later. When you've had time to consider the implications of your choices." He turned to his security detail. "Have the tender return to the ship. My daughter has decided to complete her contract."As Richard strode away, Liam appeared at
"Why not?" she interrupted, her voice gaining strength. "Because it might damage your precious reputation? The same reputation you've been using to manipulate my career?" She turned to Jake, her eyes blazing with newfound determination. "Marcus wasn't just unfaithful, he was Father's hand-picked choice specifically because he had gambling debts Father could leverage."Jake felt sick, and understanding washed over him. "Your father was using him to control you.""A business arrangement," Richard said coldly, as if discussing a shipping contract. "One that would have benefited everyone involved.""Everyone except me," Amity shot back. She looked at the tender boat, then at Jake, and made her decision. "I'm not getting on that boat."The security guards moved to flank her, but Jake stepped forward, placing himself between them and Amity. "She said no.""This is none of your concern, Monroe," Richard snarled. "You're nothing but a spoiled boy playing at rebellion.""Maybe," Jake acknowled
"I mean that Miles wasn't my parents' choice for me." She smiled faintly at Jake's shocked expression. "Oh yes, there was quite the scandal when I chose the ambitious young shipping executive over the banking heir my family had selected. My father threatened to cut me off completely."Jake stared at his mother, seeing her in an entirely new light. "I never knew.""There are many things you don't know about me, about us." Emma stood, smoothing her impeccable outfit. "Your father wasn't always... like this. Success changed him, hardened him. Made him forget what it was like to fight for something that truly mattered.""Why are you telling me this now?""Because I saw how you looked at that young woman when she played." Emma's eyes were kind but resolute. "I recognized it—the same way Miles once looked at me, before spreadsheets and market shares became his primary passion."Jake felt a surge of hope. "Will you help me?""I can't fight your battles for you, Jake. But I won't let your fat
She led him to a small technical deck near the ship's bow, accessible only to maintenance crew but currently deserted. The morning sun bathed the metal surfaces in warm light, and the sound of the ocean was louder here, more immediate."This is where I come to think," Amity said, settling onto a maintenance crate. "Away from the performances, the expectations, the careful choreography of being someone's daughter."Jake joined her, the metal warm under his hands despite the morning breeze. "What will you tell your father?""The truth, probably. That I'm not coming back to Sydney. That I'm tired of pretending his world is the only one that matters." She pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. "He'll threaten to cut off my trust fund, of course.""Would that change anything?"Amity was quiet for a long moment, considering. "It would make things harder. But I've been earning my own money for two years now. The violin commissions, the performance contracts—they're mine. Clean m
Before Miles could respond, Jake slipped out the door. He heard his mother's voice rising in his defense as it closed behind him, buying him time he desperately needed.The ship's corridors were quieter now, most passengers having retired to their cabins after the evening's entertainment. Jake wandered aimlessly at first, replaying the night's events in his mind. The revelation of Amity's true identity had been shocking, but it hadn't changed how her music made him feel—or the connection he'd sensed between them.Without consciously deciding, he found himself heading toward the crew deck again. This time, however, he was intercepted before he could get far."Mr. Monroe." Liam Jenkins-Whitmore stepped out from an alcove, blocking Jake's path. "A word, if you don't mind."Jake tensed, expecting another confrontation, but Liam's expression was surprisingly conciliatory."I owe you an apology," Liam said, gesturing toward a nearby sitting area. "For what my sister revealed about my person
The small rehearsal room suddenly felt impossibly crowded. Jake found himself caught between two patriarchs, each radiating the kind of power that could destroy careers with a phone call."Richard," Miles acknowledged with icy politeness. "I wasn't aware you were aboard.""I boarded at the last port when I learned of my children's... adventures." Richard's gaze swept the room, taking in Jake's defensive posture beside Amity, Liam's obvious discomfort, and the security officers' barely contained desire to be anywhere else. "It seems we need to have a conversation.""Father, I don’t have time for yours or Mr. Monroe’s games, I’m tried of it actually one moment I’m being called a gold digger, because I don’t dress like normal rich people, offered to join them after finding out just who I am with even more disdain than the first comment, accused that you father paying for my violin was paid for and designed for by using your money, which it wasn’t thank you. Oh and now I’m gone to a manip