Chapter 86

At eighteen, Ethan Caldwell's life changed forever.

A horrific car crash left him paralyzed from the waist down.

For seven agonizing days, he battled a relentless fever before slipping into unconsciousness.

The Caldwells pulled every string, calling in specialists from across the globe.

Yet even the finest doctors could only deliver a grim prognosis.

Then, in the depths of his coma, a sound pierced the darkness.

A cello's mournful cry.

Music had been Ethan's refuge since childhood—his fingers knew piano keys like old friends.

Now, those same instincts recognized the sorrow woven into each vibrating note.

The melody became his lifeline, pulling him back from oblivion.

When his eyelids finally fluttered open, blurred vision cleared to reveal Vanessa Hart.

She sat slumped in the visitor's chair, cello resting against her knees.

Tear tracks glistened on her cheeks in the sterile hospital light.

Back then, they'd been nothing more than casual acquaintances.

But in that heartbeat between life and death, everything shifted.

Ethan's gaze lingered on the instrument's polished wood, still humming with residual vibrations.

For the first time, he truly saw her.

Not just another face in the crowd.

But the girl whose music had defied death itself.

The soft strains of a cello drifted through the sterile hospital room.

Ethan Caldwell stirred, his lashes fluttering open. The haunting melody wrapped around him like a familiar embrace.

"During my coma...I heard that music." His voice was rough with disuse. "Was it you?"

Vanessa Hart's eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she nodded. Without a word, she lifted her cello and played the very piece that had anchored him to consciousness.

The notes flowed effortlessly beneath her skilled fingers.

Ethan recognized it instantly—the same composition, yet something felt...different.

Vanessa had always been technically flawless. Her rhythm was impeccable, her execution precise. But today, hearing it again, Ethan noticed the stark absence of raw emotion in her playing.

It was technically perfect.

Yet emotionally hollow.

A masterful performance devoid of soul left listeners with an unsettling emptiness.

Ethan's jaw tightened. His gaze dropped to his hands, lost in thought for a long moment before snapping back to Nathan Reeves.

"Pull the security footage," he ordered. "I want to know who was in the music room earlier."

Nathan gave a curt nod and turned to leave—just as Vanessa stepped through the doorway, her cheeks flushed from the cold.

The air between them crackled with unspoken tension.

"You don't need to verify anything. That was me playing the cello just now."

Ethan spun around, his expression flickering with surprise as Vanessa stepped into his office unannounced.

She glided toward him, slipping her arm through his with practiced ease. "Darling, don’t you recognize my playing anymore?"

Silence stretched between them.

"This is our song," she murmured, her voice soft with feigned nostalgia. "I was saving it for our wedding—a surprise for you."

Ethan stiffened. "You were going to perform this at the ceremony?"

Vanessa nodded, her smile sweet but calculated.

His suspicion dissolved.

Back then, Vanessa had been young, her skills raw. Years of practice could have refined her talent.

When Ethan didn’t press further, she exhaled quietly in relief.

Yet beneath her sleeves, her fingers trembled.

As evening approached, Evelyn’s phone buzzed with a message from Alexander.

[I won’t be home for dinner tonight—networking event.]

Alexander had just flown back from a business trip, and his schedule was packed with back-to-back client meetings. The entire executive floor of Horizon Enterprises buzzed with activity.

Yet, thanks to the company’s strict no-overtime policy, everyone clocked out right on time.

Exhausted after a grueling day, Evelyn had no intention of cooking. Instead, she decided to indulge in a nice meal at a restaurant near the office.

She had just placed her order when the door chimed.

In walked Ethan Caldwell, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, flanked by two associates from Titan Capital Group.

Of all the places...

Evelyn refused to let Ethan ruin her evening. She averted her gaze and focused on her phone, scrolling absently.

His sharp eyes landed on her from across the room. Noticing her deliberate avoidance, his lips thinned.

Guilty conscience?

He paused by her table, tilting his chin slightly toward his subordinates—a silent command. His demeanor was ice-cold. "Go ahead without me."

The team moved ahead without hesitation. "We'll be waiting in the VIP lounge," one of them called over their shoulder.

Ethan Caldwell lingered behind, his expression unreadable. With deliberate movements, he dragged a chair across the polished floor, the screech of wood against marble cutting through the ambient jazz music. He settled directly across from Evelyn Carter, his piercing gaze locking onto hers.

The air between them crackled with unspoken tension.

Ethan leaned forward, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "What exactly are you playing at, Evelyn?"

The dim lighting cast sharp shadows across his angular features, emphasizing the intensity in his stormy gray eyes. His fingers tapped an impatient rhythm against the tabletop, each tap echoing like a countdown.

Evelyn maintained her composure, though her pulse quickened. She met his stare without flinching, her own fingers curling around the stem of her wineglass. The deep red liquid shimmered under the low-hanging chandelier, mirroring the rising tempest between them.

Around them, the upscale restaurant hummed with oblivious diners, their laughter and clinking silverware a stark contrast to the silent battle unfolding at this secluded table.

Ethan's jaw tightened. "You can't keep dodging the question."

A slow, knowing smile curved Evelyn's lips as she took a deliberate sip of her wine. The taste was rich and bold—much like the game they were playing.

She set the glass down with deliberate care. "Can't I?"

His eyes darkened at her evasion. Before he could respond, a server approached with their appetizers, forcing a temporary ceasefire.

The interruption was brief but significant.

As the server retreated, Ethan exhaled sharply through his nose. "This isn't over."

Evelyn picked up her fork, her movements graceful and unhurried. "I wouldn't dream of it."

The unspoken challenge hung heavy between them, thickening the air like the scent of the truffle-infused dish before them.

Somewhere in the background, the live pianist transitioned into a haunting melody—a perfect soundtrack to their dangerous dance.