Chapter 3
14 years old
I t’d be the last time I’d come to Mrs. Delombre’s manor.
The rain poured relentlessly, leaving my loafers dirty from stepping in puddles. I clutched the Cigno Nero tightly against my school uniform and glanced back at my father, still engrossed in a heated contract dispute over the phone in our car. He was always angry. We were twenty minutes past the scheduled end of the funeral gathering because he couldn’t get out of the office sooner.
The doorbell had been removed years ago, so I tapped my knuckles against the door with a single knock. A veil of silence enveloped me, and my heart quickened its rhythm.
Would he be there?
I grasped the doorknob, and the door opened with a creaking sound.
“Hello?” My voice quivered as I ventured inside, tightening my grip on my violin.
The manor’s hallway bore the traces of the earlier funeral reception, with black programs strewn across the counter and untouched toasts and wine bottles left out as if nobody had come.
“Is anyone home?” My voice echoed back to me.
He’s not on the stairs anymore.
I tightened my fists and walked to Mrs. Delombre’s music studio. I had to hurry because Dad needed to be back in Paris for dinner.
Grandma had always referred to Lucie as my music mother, a second mother, and she was right. My heart squeezed as I remembered how she’d helped me take care of my violin’s bruises and hide them from Dad. When I’d started my period a month before, I came to her, too embarrassed to discuss it with my father or Grandma—afraid she’d conduct another class about clitorises and women’s pleasure.
I bit my trembling lips, my eyes adjusting to the darkness inside the room where I’d spent every Wednesday afternoon for the past few years. I couldn’t afford to break down. I stood before her music stand on top of the creaking floorboards and carefully lifted the Cigno Nero from its carrying case.
Lucie always felt very strongly about promises.
“Mrs. Delombre—I mean Lucie,” I murmured, cradling the violin so softly between my hands. “I’m here to return the Cigno Nero to you. I can’t keep it. It’s too valuable.”
She had given it to me during our last class. I was finally worthy of playing it for her. She missed hearing its melody, being unable to play it because of her musician’s dystonia. I’d promised that I would during our next class—but there never was one.
It probably happened here. The mournful thought crossed my mind, sending shivers down my back. Why had she done this? Why had she left me too?
But today wasn’t about me or my pain. It was about Lucie.
I dug my nails into my palm, squeezing the violin harder. “I’m honoring our promise. You’ll hear the Cigno Nero’s melody again.”
And maybe if I’d started playing, my wounded heart would’ve started to heal, just like the tale she used to tell me about. But I didn’t even have the time to draw the bow across the strings before a low rumble echoed in the room. My heart leaped to my throat, my gaze shifting to the side as I carefully posed the Cigno Nero on the table.
In the darkness, he sat on the floor, menacing and deadly quiet in full black attire—dress pants and an open dress shirt, a bottle of wine dangling in his hand.
Lucie’s son.
“Please, don’t stop on my behalf, little thief,” he purred, his words dripping with dark amusement, a chilling, cruel smile curling at the corners of his lips.
It was the first time I’d ever seen him smile, and that was terrifying.
It was also the first time he’d ever talked to me after the day we met. His voice had changed. It was rougher and more condescending.
“I’m not stealing,” I blurted out.
The empty wine bottle rolled across the hardwood, and he rose, his steps resonating through the room. He towered over me, glaring at the high school uniform I had to wear for my all-girls Catholic school. He was much taller now, but maybe he’d always been that tall since he had never come so close to me before.
The older he’d gotten, the more his beauty had seemed to mold itself to him. Yet nothing was sweet or tender about him. He was simply, cruelly handsome, with hollow cheeks and a narrowed nose. Always had been.
He looks so much like Lucie.
“I was never even allowed to look at the Cigno Nero. It’s our most precious family heirloom, but she let YOU have it. Why you?”
The pain in his voice sent a dart into my heart. “I’m sorry for your loss. I understand what it’s like—”
“You can save your pity talk. The party is over,” he said. “Unlucky for you, that clown Patrice just left, leaving you alone with me. The question is, what will I do with you?”
He loomed over me, forcing me to stumble back, the desk pressing uncomfortably against my back. Trapped, I hitched my breath but refused to let my eyes waver from him. “I know you’re hurt… but you won’t hurt me.”
He tilted his head to the side. “You really think so? Nothing is stopping me anymore.”
Every Wednesday, he’d watched me, his gaze creeping under my skin and widening into my flesh. But the way he was doing it now—with reddened and smoldering eyes like he had been crying—felt different.
“This isn’t you,” I whispered.
Levi was the only boy I’d ever known. Though he was shy and reserved, and something about him was tortured and dark, I knew deep down he wasn’t bad.
He darted forward, stopping abruptly with his lips just inches from mine. It wasn’t like he was about to kiss me. He was just trying to scare me.
“You don’t know me,” he growled, his gaze flicking between my lips and my eyes.
My fingers crumpled my skirt. “Someone who enjoys listening to the beauty of music can’t be evil.”
Unlike someone who destroys it.
He blinked, taking a step back. “I never…”
I closed in on him. “I knew you were listening.”
I’d felt his presence at the top of the stairs, absorbing the melody of my violin. It was comforting, like having a silent protector, a ghostly friend. One time, when I’d left the studio, I even saw a tear on his cheek, though he’d never admit it. Who needed words when the music spoke for itself?
That was why I always left the door open.
For him.
“Will you stay here in the house? Or are you leaving?” I asked.
The lines on his forehead creased, his irises like storm clouds gathering before a downpour. “Why? So you could come to visit?”
I gulped, tearing my gaze away from his. “I…maybe.”
I still wanted to see him, but Dad would never allow me to return. I’ll never see Lucie’s son again. He’ll be gone, just like Lucie.
“If you want to talk about Lucie, I can listen…”
“She’s dead!” His voice cut through the thin air like blades. “She’s gone.”
I felt the first traces of tears prickling at the edges of my eyes. She was truly gone. I extended my hand to reach for his shoulder. I wanted to comfort him; he had no one to hug him. Grandma was the one who always hugged me when I was sad.
But his hand closed around my wrist to prevent me from touching him. It was the first time our skin had touched. My heart surged in a crescendo. His hold on me was surprisingly warm.
“Your heart is beating like a scared little lamb,” he snapped, his voice harsh, and I stifled a gasp when his lips brushed against the shell of my ear. “I hate you and everything you represent. I want to hurt you so fucking much. I want to take something from you. So leave before I change my fucking mind.” He straightened his spine and released my hand from his grip. His eyes locked on mine, showing only emptiness.
“Why were you watching me every Wednesday if you hate me that much?”
He had no answer for me.
The air hung thick with dust. It was the last time I could try to help him. I shared his suffering. We’d never really talked in all those years, but the weight of silence sometimes says a lot too.
And so, I gathered my courage and rose on my tiptoes, my hand trembling as it rested on his chest. He tensed. Maybe I was doing this wrong? Everything was about to change. This was my goodbye to him.
It’d be another secret we could share.
On impulse and fueled by years of curiosity, I pressed my lips against his. Despite the cuts marring his lips, they felt surprisingly soft against mine. He didn’t push me away, but he didn’t kiss me back either.
I broke away, cheeks ablaze with embarrassment, but then I felt the grasp of his hand around my wrist. He drew me back to him, and this time, his lips found mine. Harder and rougher. He wanted me back. With just a kiss, he had bloomed a garden of colorful flowers in my stomach. I didn’t know tongues could kiss, but it was like ours had fallen madly in love, too. I drank in his essence, the smell of wine wafting to my nose, but it didn’t matter. He ensnared me further by gripping my waist firmly. My knees wobbled. It felt forbidden, the kind I would never confess to anyone—certainly not to our priest.
This moment would be forever mine.
“Dalia, what’s taking you so—”
Dad? I pushed Levi away, my heart catching in my throat. It was over. Dad loomed just beyond the door, his broad shoulders almost blocking its entirety. No. No. No.
“You little piece of shit, get away from my daughter!”
My father stalked toward him and seized Levi by the collar with a violent grip. In a sudden motion, he punched him in the face. His rings added weight and force to the blow, causing Levi’s skin to split open under his left eye.
I covered my mouth with my hand, blood trickling down Levi’s cheek. “Dad, stop!”
But Dad clutched my arm so hard it felt like he was on the verge of crushing my bones. He’d changed so much since Mom had died. “I let you out of my sight for one minute, and you let this freak kiss you!”
Levi spit the blood from his mouth. “I’m right here.”
“Did you initiate this?” Dad screamed, and my ears throbbed, assaulted by the sheer force of his anger. I hated it when he yelled. “Dalia, did you kiss him, or did he force you?”
Paralyzed, I couldn’t speak. What would he think of me? He wouldn’t trust me anymore. He would be so disappointed in me. He’d take music away from me and never let me leave the house again. He’ll stop loving me, and maybe he’ll abandon me too, just like Mom and Lucie.
“Dalia!” Dad roared again.
I shut my eyes. Stop crying. Speak, Dalia, say something—
Levi surged to his feet and grabbed the Cigno Nero. The gray of his eyes ebbed away, replaced by a deep, consuming blackness.
“I did,” he lied for me. “I’m the one who forced her to kiss me. Isn’t that right, little thief?”
He turned away, and my heart threatened to come out of the confines of my chest.
“Don’t turn your fucking back on me!” Dad, in an outburst of rage, snatched the violin from Levi’s grip.
“Dad, please, no!”
It was too late.
Dad slammed the Cigno Nero on the wall.
I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound escaped. I’d lost my voice. In one fall, the Cigno Nero sustained a crack running from the bridge to the edge. The swan’s neck was broken. The strings snapped with a mournful twang. The bow shattered. Salty gray tear marks streaked over the soundpost. The bass bar suffered a break.
My silly kiss had disfigured Lucie’s most prized possession; an heirloom worth millions.
The violin healing broken hearts.
It’s all my fault.
Levi sank to his knees, drops of his blood mixing with the frayed strings and splintered wood of the violin.
Dad pressed down harder on the Cigno Nero, which screamed under his boot in one last agonizing, shrieking cry for help. He didn’t realize what he had done.
“You think you’re good enough for my daughter?!” I thought the whole manor would collapse against Dad’s roars. “I should have known that with a mother like that, her son would be deranged too. I’ll always protect my Dalia. So if you think of going near her again, I’ll destroy you. Am I clear, boy?”
Levi’s head bowed, his dark locks cascading over his eyes like a veil. “We’ll see.” The words emerged from the depths of his throat.
Dad scoffed, casting a glance downward at him as if he were nothing to him. “Who do you think you are to threaten me?”
I didn’t resist when my father grabbed me by the arm to pull me out of the room. I glanced at Levi one last time. With just one look, I could tell I had broken something inside him.
I destroy everything I touch.
I’d given him my first kiss, but I’d taken something even more precious from him.
I’d destroyed him.