They Broke My Fingers, I Broke Their World

"Don't worry, Clara. I told you already—the championship at this year's annual piano competition will be yours."

The words drifted through the half-open walnut door.

It was Ethan's voice.

My fiancé.

At that very moment, he was gently cupping my older sister Clara's face in his hands.

"But Luna's talent..." Clara leaned against his chest with a pout. "Everyone says that if she competes, I'll never be anything more than a runner-up."

"She's not a threat anymore." Ethan lowered his head and kissed her, their bodies tangled together in the warm yellow light of the piano room. "To fully support me while I prepare for the Royal Academy of Music's graduate entrance exam—and to 'help' make your dream of winning come true—that idiot already took a leave of absence on her own. She's never going to stand in your way on your path to the top Steinway stage."

My stomach churned.

I could hardly believe what I was seeing.

For Ethan's future, and to let my sister—the one who had always envied me—get what she wanted, I had given up the Tchaikovsky Piano Concerto No. 1 I had spent an entire year preparing. I had personally submitted my leave-of-absence request to the conservatory. I thought I was sacrificing for love and family. It never occurred to me that, to them, I was nothing more than something to be thrown away whenever it suited them.

I slowly took two steps back, turned around, and hurried down the marble hallway.

The moment I stepped out of the academy building, I pulled out my phone and called my advisor, Professor Harrison.

"Professor, it's me, Luna." I clenched my teeth, letting my tears mix with the rain. "I want to withdraw my leave request. Please reinstate my enrollment immediately. I want to register for this year's piano competition again. Yes—I'm not dropping out."

After I hung up, I hurried toward the street, my mind racing with thoughts of how to take back everything that belonged to me.

But as I crossed the intersection, a burst of blinding headlights tore into my vision.

The screech of tires split the air, and then a violent force slammed into my body.

I was thrown into the air and crashed onto the pavement. Blood blurred my sight at once, and all I could hear was the piercing ring in my ears. Through my fading consciousness, I saw the black Range Rover come to a stop.

The car door opened, and a familiar pair of black boots stepped into the rain.

It was my older brother, Leon.

He was a graduate of this same music academy. But now, instead of protecting me, my own brother was walking toward me like a soulless executioner.

"Le... Leon..." I tried to call for help.

But he crouched down expressionlessly and stared coldly at my hands, which were twitching from the pain.

And suddenly, I thought of Clara. Leon had obeyed her since childhood, blindly and without question.

The next second, he reached out with one broad hand and grabbed all ten of my fingers—the fingers I lived by.

Then he pressed down.

Hard.

"Ahhh—!"

A sharp crack cut through the rain. The agony of my shattered fingers shot straight through my brain, and the world in front of me went black.

The next day, when I finally forced my heavy eyelids open again, the sharp smell of disinfectant filled my nose.

My hands were wrapped in thick casts. At the foot of my bed stood my attending physician, Dr. Sterling, his eyes full of regret and pity.

"Miss Luna, I'm very sorry. You've suffered comminuted fractures in the bones of your fingers, and both your ulnar and median nerves have sustained severe, irreversible damage. I'm afraid that from now on... you may never be able to play the piano again."

Never be able to play the piano again.

The hospital room door burst open, and Leon stumbled in reeking of alcohol, his eyes red as he dropped to his knees beside my bed, sobbing.

"Luna! I'm sorry! I went to a bar last night and drank too much whiskey... That damn rain made me lose control. I really didn't mean to hit you!"

Looking at his remorseful face, I felt a bleak, indescribable sorrow rise in my chest.

Drunk driving?

What a perfect excuse.

I closed my eyes.

Even though I remembered exactly how cold he looked when he crushed my fingers, he was still my brother—my own flesh and blood. After a long silence, I forced out one hoarse word: "Okay."

A moment later, I heard a familiar set of footsteps outside the room.

It was Ethan.

"Please let her rest, sir. The patient isn't willing to see anyone right now," the nurse stopped him at the door.

I lay in the hospital bed, staring at the harsh white ceiling light and listening quietly to everything happening outside.

"Please, just let me see her once—just once!" Ethan's voice was thick with tears and devotion. "I'm her fiancé! My God, her hands are ruined—how much pain must she be in? Please tell her that no matter what happens, whether she can ever play piano again or not, she'll always be the only woman I love. The wedding next month will go on as planned. I'll take care of her for the rest of my life!"

Listening to that performance—passionate enough to move everyone in the hallway—made the nausea rise in me all over again. In my mind, I kept seeing him in the piano room, holding Clara in his arms and kissing her like she was the only woman in the world.

He was putting on a show for everyone else.

Maybe even for himself.

I said nothing. Inside the casts, my ten numb fingers still throbbed faintly—a brand of humiliation, and the spark of revenge. I didn't expose his ridiculous act. I only bit my lip until I tasted blood and carved every word of that disgusting one-man performance deep into my bones.