I hadn't even made it to the parking lot before I was hugging my arms against the chill.
When I looked up, a dark figure stood in my path.
Wyatt shoved a purchase order into my bag.
He was breathing hard, and there was a stubbornness on his face I'd never seen before. "Mildred, I returned the piano you just bought. I exchanged it for the Steinway—the one you always wanted."
His fingers trembled.
"I still remember. Your dream was to play your own concert on one."
"Consider this piano a gift from me. Please... stop resenting me. Can you do that?"
When I heard those words, I slowly pulled off my gloves.
I hadn't said a single word. But the moment his eyes fell on my hands—covered in scars, every finger—he went silent.
After all, he knew better than anyone that I could never perform in a concert again.
Eight years ago, I had been the most talked-about competitor in the National Piano Competition.
But the day before the finals, he stole my original compositions and gave them to his protégée, Vera Swanson—all to make her famous. And when she deliberately poured boiling water over my hands, he did nothing to stop her.