Chapter 7

Over the next few days, Lena locked herself in her room.

She refused to eat, drink, answer calls, or see anyone.

The maid brought meals to her door, but they sat untouched until they went cold. She reheated them, only for them to grow cold again. Eventually, she took them away, just as they were.

Yet, some things couldn't be kept outside, like her phone.

Every day, videos from an unknown number flooded in at a set time.

Sometimes it showed Shane and Yasmine dining together, with him placing food on her plate with a tenderness that made her heart ache.

Sometimes it was of them out shopping, with him holding her hand and smiling softly as he leaned down to listen to her talk.

Sometimes it was just Yasmine showing off a new present from Shane in front of the camera, saying in a sweet voice, "Shane said this color suits me."

Every single time, Lena watched with a blank face before deleting it.

She deleted them, received more, and deleted them again. It was like a never-ending execution.

Playing each video felt like carving another wound into her heart, until it was ripped to pieces and couldn't feel the pain anymore.

On the evening of the fourth day, Lena finally dragged herself out of bed.

She took a shower, looked at the hollow-eyed woman in the mirror, and pulled her lips into a bitter smirk.

She couldn't go on like this.

After changing into a black dress, she put on makeup to hide her pallor. Just as she was about to step out, her phone rang.

It was a call from her best friend, Anna Dawson.

"Lena! Help me!" Anna's voice was frantic. She sounded like she was in tears.

"My orchestra has a concert at the National Grand Theatre tonight, but I'm stuck on the highway! I won't make it for at least two hours! Can you cover for me? Just play the opening piece, 'Clair de lune'!"

Lena froze for a second. "Me?"

"Yes! Haven't you played the piano better than me since we were kids? Please, Lena, this performance is important. It determines if our orchestra will receive funding for the second half of the year…"

As Anna kept begging on the line, Lena drifted into a trance.

It had been a long time since she had last touched a piano.

Ever since Eliza passed away, it felt as though she had forced herself to live as a completely different person.

She threw herself into every kind of rebellion—drinking, clubbing, even getting into fights—as if the reckless behavior could numb the pain of losing her beloved mother and help her forget the cold home she was left with after Lewis remarried.

Yet, some things were etched deep into her bones, like the feel of her fingers pressing against the keys, or the warmth flowing through every note at her fingertips.

"Send me the address," Lena heard herself say.

…

Inside the National Grand Theatre, the lights shone brilliantly.

Shane sat in the front row of the VIP section, casually tapping his fingers on the armrest.

He had never cared much for classical music. Had Yasmine not mentioned wanting to come, he wouldn't have set foot in a place like this.

"Shane, are you bored?" Yasmine leaned over and whispered softly. "I noticed you've been on your phone the whole time."

Shane put his phone away and pulled his lips into a faint smile. "Not at all."

"Liar," Yasmine teased gently. "If I knew you weren't interested in concerts, we wouldn't have come."

"As long as you like it, it's only right that I keep you company," Shane said in a doting tone, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

Yasmine offered a sweet smile and leaned against his shoulder.

Right then, the house lights dimmed.

The venue fell quiet as the stage curtain slowly drew back, and orchestra members walked out one by one.

A collective low gasp rippled through the audience. Every gaze locked onto the lone figure sitting at the grand piano.

Draped in a sleek black dress, the woman sat tall on the piano bench. The stage lights traced the elegant contours of her profile, making her beauty seem almost unreal.

Her eyes were slightly cast down, and her fingers rested lightly on the keys. The scene looked like a serene oil painting.

Shane's tapping fingers came to a dead halt.

He narrowed his eyes at the person on stage.

Was that… Lena?

He almost thought his eyes were playing tricks on him.

But that face, those features, that fierce pride radiating from deep within her…

No one else could possess them but Lena.

What was she doing here? And why was she dressed up, playing the piano?

Shane's brows knitted together instinctively.

In his memory, Lena had never been associated with words like "grace" or "art". She was supposed to be in leather jackets smashing bottles at bars or tearing up racing tracks in supercars.

Not sitting on a grand stage under a spotlight, looking like a true artist.

Right then, the music swelled.

A tender, melancholic melody began flowing effortlessly from Lena's fingertips.

Her fingers danced across the keys with a mastery that suggested she had played this piece thousands of times before.

Shane forgot to look away.

He watched Lena's profile as she lost herself in the music, her eyelashes fluttering ever so slightly, her lips gently pressed together in concentration. It was a level of focus and serenity he had never seen in her before.

At that moment, it seemed as though the rest of the world had dissolved, leaving only her and the piano.

She was no longer the arrogant, spoiled heiress but a young lady from years ago, sitting in a music room in a white dress, practicing her scales.

As the final note faded into the air, the echo lingered long across the hall.

The audience fell silent for a few seconds before erupting into thunderous applause.

Lena stood up, bowed gracefully to the crowd, and turned toward the backstage.

Only when the lights flashed back on did Shane snap back to reality.

"Shane?" Yasmine tugged on his sleeve. "What's wrong? You've been staring at the stage."