Chapter 15 #2
And I can’t afford not at all.
Not when I still owe rent. Not when there’s barely any food left in the fridge. Not when survival depends on things like this.
When you’re starving, literally or otherwise, your options tend to shrink.
I don’t say anything. Neither does he.
In fact, we stare at each other for a beat longer than I’m comfortable with.
Until…
“Good night, Adeline,” he says at last, glancing to Liam and Christian, nodding once in acknowledgment.
Liam lets out a low whistle beside me as soon as Kai walks off. “Well, that was awkward,” he mutters.
“Liam,” Lilia hisses. “Not the time.”
But a voice cuts through my thoughts, familiar enough that I know who it is almost immediately. I don’t need to turn around; I could recognize that voice anywhere. In any amount of years.
Because I haven’t had many acquaintances.
“Addie?”
I turn, and there she is—Vivienne St. Claire, looking at me like she’s seen a ghost.
I don’t say anything, don’t even try to. The world is muffled, the laughter and clinking glasses, blending into an indistinct hum as my gaze locks onto her. It’s been years since I last saw her—since she was just the Vivi Arion introduced me to, and I was Addie.
Because I am definitely not the girl I was then, and I’ll bet she isn’t either.
Her eyes widen ever so slightly, and her lips part. I know she’s about to say something, but before she can, a voice crackles through the room, amplified by a microphone.
The trance shatters.
“Ladies and gentlemen, your attention, please,” a woman’s voice echoes through the massive room.
My eyes snap to the stage then, and for a moment, I’m disoriented—it’s like seeing a future version of Vivienne standing there.
The resemblance is uncanny, down to the fiery hair and poised demeanour.
Her mother. It has to be. I’ve never seen her before; it’s likely she wasn’t even around back then.
“Thank you all for joining us tonight,” she continues, her voice carrying effortlessly across the room. “As we celebrate another year of this extraordinary event, I’d like to invite someone very special to the stage.”
My stomach knots as her gaze sweeps over the crowd, lingering briefly on Vivienne before landing on someone else. “Kai Steele,” she announces, her smile widening. “To honour us with a performance of Chopin’s Nocturne in C-sharp Minor.”
The room erupts into applause, but I’m frozen. Of course, I’ve heard all about Kai’s talents online. I’ve never heard them for myself though.
The ripple of applause continues as heads turn, searching for Kai. My own eyes dart instinctively to him. He’s standing beside us, his posture as relaxed as ever, but there’s something almost imperceptible in his expression, a fleeting glance between Vivienne and I.
He has clearly seen what just happened.
If he’s confused, he doesn’t show it. The moment his name is called, his mask slips effortlessly into place, and he strides toward the stage without hesitation.
Kai moves with a calm, unhurried grace, his hands sliding into his pockets as he approaches the grand piano. The applause swells as he takes his seat, his fingers brushing the keys. He doesn’t say a word; he doesn’t need to. The room quiets anyway.
And then he begins to play.
The first notes ripple through the hall like the opening of a story.
It’s beautiful—achingly so. Kai’s hands glide over the keys with effortless precision, his movements fluid, almost hypnotic.
There’s something haunting in the way he plays, a sadness that seeps into every corner of the room, it’s as if he’s poured pieces of himself into the music, and it’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever heard.
The melody swells and falls, tender… but also fierce.
I can’t take my eyes off him. The way his brows furrow ever so slightly in concentration, the way his shoulders move with the rhythm—it’s mesmerizing.
And it’s not just me. The entire room is caught in the spell he’s woven.
Even the clinking of glasses and quiet murmurs have ceased, because in that moment, I realize, it’s simply him and the piano. Nothing else exists.
He’s incredible.
The final note trembles before it fades into silence, and for a moment, no one moves. It’s as if the entire room is holding its breath, frozen in shock and admiration.
I don’t exactly blame them.
His music is the type that haunts you long before it ends, leaving you with a hollow ache deep within your soul. As if you’ve glimpsed something beautiful and tragic, something you can never quite understand.
Then, as if on cue, applause erupts, breaking the spell, but not the ache. Kai could easily make millions just from playing. Because everyone would come to listen, just for that feeling afterwards. Liam leans in closer to me and whispers, “He’s fantastic, isn’t he?”
I don’t answer. I can’t. Words feel inadequate in the face of what I’ve just witnessed. I can only nod, my gaze still fixed on Kai as he stands, nods curtly to the audience, and steps away from the piano.
I swallow hard, trying to compose myself, but the lump in my throat remains.
Will
Nine years ago
I spot the mansion ahead of us, all sharp edges and gothic architecture. My father’s grip on my wrist tightens as we approach the door, his nails pressing into the bruises that hadn’t had a chance to fade yet.
“This is a powerful family,” he mutters. “This is a union spanning decades. Don’t embarrass me.”
I nod, but don’t say anything. There’s no point, unless I’m looking to get myself or my sister killed.
He turns to my sister, his dark eyes narrowing into slits. “Not a word from you,” he snaps. She ducks her head, nodding meekly, her hands twisting in the hem of her too-small jacket. She doesn’t need the reminder.
The massive front door swings open, and the man who greets us looks like he belongs here. Sharp suit. Sharper eyes. He surveys us like we’re specimens under a microscope, his gaze lingering for a fraction too long. “These two yours?” he asks, his voice calm but clipped.
My father inclines his head in a barely-there nod.
“Welcome,” the man says, stepping aside and motioning us into the hall.
I was prepared to come here and not think much of it.
Life like this is nothing I haven’t seen before.
I’m used to wealth —glittering chandeliers, marble floors, and artwork older than my grandparents are nothing new—but this is something else entirely. Another level of riches.
My sister glances up briefly, her wide eyes catching on the massive chandelier that looks like it cost more than some people’s houses. Her expression shifts for a moment, softening with something like wonder. It makes my chest tighten, and I look away.
“These are my children,” the man says, motioning to two figures standing near the far wall. “My youngest daughter,” he says, indicating the petite girl with a polite smile, and big grey eyes, “and my son,” gesturing toward the taller boy leaning lazily against the wall.
The look in his eye would be slightly offputting—or even intimidating, I imagine—if he wasn’t so pretty.
I know him, of course.
Or I know of him.
Though I’ve never cared much for the media and their fascination with the golden boy.
Wren steps forward first, her warmth not entirely fitting in this frozen house. “Hi,” she says brightly. “Sorry about my brother. He’s, uh, not really a people person.”
Kai doesn’t react in the slightest, his gaze distant. I don’t know if it’s boredom or annoyance, but I don’t care enough to figure it out.
Wren’s attention shifts to me, her smile widening. “You have really cool eyes,” she says, her tone light and genuine.
I don’t reply. Compliments make me itch, especially ones like that.
Wren doesn’t seem to notice—or maybe she does, and she just doesn’t care. Her attention shifts to my sister, and without hesitation, she reaches out and takes her hand. “Come on. I want to show you something,” she says, tugging her gently toward the stairs.
My chest tightens as I watch them walk away. Every instinct screams to pull her back, to keep her close, but I stay rooted to the spot.
I know better.
If I cling too hard, I’ll snap her in half eventually. At least, that’s what Mother says. Although, I don’t think she’s too fond of me. Probably thinks I’m weird, like everyone at school.
Maybe I am a little different from everyone else, is that really such a problem?
Does that mean there’s something wrong with me, or with everyone else?
Kai finally looks up, his odd, multicoloured eyes meeting mine with a lazy sort of curiosity. For a second, we just stare at each other. “What?” he drawls, his voice mocking. “Never seen a split lip before?”
My gaze drops briefly to the crusted blood on his mouth. “Maybe you should put some ice on that,” I say.
His lips curl into a faint smirk, but his eyes flicker downward, landing on my sleeves. “Can’t say your arms look much better.”
I tug my sleeves lower, the fabric catching on raw skin. “Mind your own business,” I say flatly.
He raises an eyebrow. “Just an observation.” He shrugs. “You get into fights often?” he asks, although I can tell he knows exactly what’s going on. He knew from the second he saw the marks.
“You should see the other guy,” I reply in the same tone.
That earns a low chuckle. He watches me for a moment, then says, “Kai Steele.”
Will
Three years ago
The fire crackles, and the whole room smells like burnt cedar and money.
We’re on the couch, and it’s leather, dark, and stiff. Kai’s folded up in one corner, and I’m sprawled the opposite way, elbow on the armrest, head tilted back.
On the floor between us, some small metal contraption hums. There are wires and gears everywhere. Even joints that look part drone, part mechanical spider. It crawls in tight circles, responding to the subtle flicks of the controller in Kai’s hands.