Chapter 5

The days in the hospital were quiet, peaceful—thanks to David’s protection.

Kane never came again.

On the day I was discharged, David came to pick me up himself.

“I’ve prepared a little surprise,” he said, opening the car door for me. “Hope you like it.”

I had just fastened my seat belt when his phone rang.

His secretary. “Mr. Smith, the meeting with Carson Group this afternoon…”

David glanced at his watch, frowning slightly.

He turned toward me, about to say something, but I spoke first.

“Go handle it. You’ve already done enough for me.”

“It’s not a burden.” He shook his head. “I’ll go with you.”

“You really don’t have to.” I gave him a small smile. “You’ve delayed too much work because of me.”

He studied me for a long moment, then finally gave in.

“Alright.”

He gave the driver an address, then added, “Drive carefully. Get her there safely.”

“Yes, sir.”

The car stopped in front of a standalone building in the city center—tasteful, elegant.

I stepped out and froze, my heart suddenly racing.

I knew this place too well.

Mr. Garcia’s studio.

The last place I’d practiced five years ago.

So, this was David’s surprise.

I pushed the door open.

Mr. Garcia had his back to me, sorting sheet music. He turned at the sound.

When he saw me, there was no shock—only a long, heavy sigh, and relief in his eyes.

“Serena. You’re back.” He set down what he was holding. “I knew you wouldn’t put the violin down forever.”

He was the director of the studio—my friend, and my teacher.

He led me into the private collection room in the back.

Sunlight slipped through the blinds, landing on a dark violin case.

He walked over and opened it gently.

The Legacy of Serenade lay quietly on velvet, perfectly maintained, its body glowing with a warm sheen.

My fingertips brushed the familiar pattern on the case, and my heart trembled.

Five years.

A box I’d once thought I’d never open again was right in front of me.

“Mr. Smith contacted me a week ago,” Mr. Garcia said softly. “He said it was time to let this violin be returned to its owner.”

I was about to speak when voices rose outside the glass door.

Then the studio entrance swung open.

Kane came in with his arm around Ashley's waist, and James bounced behind them, holding Ashley’s hand tight.

They looked exactly like a family of three—out shopping for happiness.

I thought my heart was dead.

But the pain still hit, sharp and sudden.

Instinct took over. I yanked up my coat hood, hiding my face.

“Director,” Kane said, “bring out the best violin you’ve got. My wife is going to a concert.”

Mr. Garcia glanced back at me, then hurried out.

“Mr. Johnson,” his voice drifted through the door, “what kind of violin are you looking for?”

“I heard the most famous one you have is The Legacy of Serenade,” Kane said. “Bring it out. Let me see it.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Johnson.” Mr. Garcia’s voice was firm. “That violin is not for sale. It’s reserved for a specific performer.”

“Specific performer?” Kane let out a cold laugh. “Who? Is there anyone more worthy than my wife, Ashley?”

His words stabbed like needles. I bit down on my lip.

The argument outside grew louder, and footsteps headed toward the collection room.

“Is it in there?” Kane’s voice was closer now. “I’ll look myself.”

The next second, the door flew open.

I stood with my back to them, my body froze.

Kane’s footsteps stopped behind me.

A few seconds of bizarre silence.

Then his voice, hesitant and disbelieving:

“…Nicole?”

Ashley’s sharp tone followed immediately. “Kane, you’re seeing things. Why would my sister be here? She doesn’t play violin.”

I didn’t move.

Kane came around to face me.

He stared at the side of my face half-hidden by my hood and hair for several seconds, his brow tightening.

“Turn around,” he said, voice dropping.

I knew I couldn’t hide.

I drew a breath, turned slowly, brushed my hair back behind my ear, and lifted my eyes to him.

The moment he saw my face, his pupils snapped tight.

“It’s really you?!” His voice was full of shock and confusion. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

Ashley stepped closer too. The smile on her face vanished the instant she saw me.

Her gaze flicked to the violin case behind me, then back to my face.

“Sister?” she said, fake surprise dripping from every syllable. “Why are you… dressed like this? This studio… don’t tell me you work here now?”