Chapter 28
Elowen
“I’m so proud of you.” Mom kisses my cheek, beaming, the moment I step inside. But her smile fades as she studies my face.
We walk to the sitting room. She sits beside me on the couch.
“When I heard you playing that lament, I thought you’d composed it. But then the camera zoomed in on your face, and I saw the sadness there. I was still unsure, but I can see it now, too. Tell me, Weni. What is it? Is it really about him?”
I look down at my hands.
“I love him, Mom,” I whisper.
“Then why didn’t you tell us?”
I look up. “He’s an enemy.”
“So what? If you love him, there must be something there. You wouldn’t fall for a piece of shit. I know my daughter.”
“He wants to kill Uncle.”
Her eyes widen. “Why?”
“Didn’t Dad tell you?”
Avi told Zo, and Leo knows about it, so Uncle and Dad must know it too.
She frowns and shakes her head.
“Uncle killed his father. Then his family tortured him and his mother. And she killed herself. He wants revenge for all of it—from Uncle.”
“He placed the blame on Alex for what happened and wired himself to live for revenge—to survive the pain of losing his mother.” She adds softly.
I nod. “He’s stuck in that trauma. He believes revenge will free him.”
She nods slowly. “Poor child.”
“Also, I don’t think he loves me. It’s just one-sided.” I know I’m lying. But I don’t have solid proof to offer anyone else. For making myself believe this? I have plenty.
“Can you ask Dad to stop looking for him? I don’t want him hurt.”
Mom nods. “I’ll do that. And I want you to share things with me. Don’t suffocate yourself. Okay?”
I nod, offering her a warm smile.
Dad comes into the sitting room and sits beside me.
“I heard someone created a masterpiece tonight.” He says it with a small smile.
I grin. “You listened to it?”
He shakes his head. “I’ll listen now. I was busy keeping an eye on your security.”
“No one’s going to kidnap me again.”
“You were kidnapped once, which has opened the door for others to think they can do the same. You need to be under high security for a long time.”
I blink. “You’re saying my life is on the table for your enemies?”
His jaw clenches. “That’s the result of one mistake.”
He caresses my cheek. “But don’t worry. I won’t let it happen again.”
I nod. I know he won’t let that happen again. With the security I carry, no one can even think of coming close to me.
After spending time with Mom and Dad, I head to my room. After a long shower, I climb into bed.
I check my phone and find a string of messages from Avi. She’s sent me recordings from the concert live footage with her commentary in voice messages.
“You look so beautiful, babe. Isn’t this the skirt we ordered from London? I think I need to wear mine, too.”
Another message, five minutes later: “Hey, I know this one. It’s called ‘Moonlight,’ right?”
She sent the recording of the second piece I played.
“I’ve never heard this one before. When did you compose this elegy?”
Twenty minutes later, she sends a video—of herself and the music.
“What the hell are you playing, woman?”
She’s sobbing. “Why the fuck is this so painful?”
She shows me the TV screen, then her face again.
“Why is this so fucking sad?”
The last video is from the standing ovation, her sobbing voice in the background.
“She played a lament. You should’ve come earlier, it was so sad.”
“Stop crying.” I hear Zo’s voice, then the camera shakes and goes dark.
But just before the recording cuts, I see a flicker of something on the screen.
Frowning, I open the browser and search for tonight’s concert recording. I scroll to the end, where people are standing and clapping. I see the flicker again when the camera pans over the audience. I rewind ten seconds, slow the speed to quarter, and pause.
Everyone is standing—except one man. He’s sitting in the front row, his eyes fixed on the stage like he’s frozen in the moment.
My eyes sting. It’s him. He was there. He sent the rose. My heart wasn’t lying.
I scroll back, scanning every shot of the audience. He appears one more time—sitting the same way, eyes locked on the stage, motionless as a statue.
His image isn’t clear enough to see his expression, but I can tell, he’s not fine. My chest tightens. I caress the screen, as if I could touch him through it.
I open the drawer in the bedside table and take out the rose. I touch its petals lightly. They look like they’ll fall apart if I’m even a little careless.
Is he still in the city? The thought steals my breath.
I take a long, shaky breath, then put the rose back in the drawer. I rise from bed, reach into my closet, and pull out a long brown coat, layering it over my pale pink shirt and trousers. I slip into thick socks and shoes, then step out of my room.
I grab my phone from the bed and check the time. It’s past ten. Mom and Dad must be asleep by now.
I send a text to Dad as I walk out of my room. “I’m going to the park for a walk.”
His reply comes instantly. “Your security will go with you.”
“Okay,” I reply, then tuck the phone into my coat pocket.
Dad’s house sits above the river on the Georgetown bluff, close enough that the Potomac is never out of sight. My father has always loved being near water.
I pull the hood of my parka over my head as I reach the gate. The squad of bulky men in black is waiting. A few of them walk out ahead of me. They aren’t surrounding me, but they stay close.
When I reach Georgetown Waterfront Park, all of them have scattered, leaving only two behind me.
The park is lit by warm streetlamps along the promenade. Only a few people are here. I walk toward the iron benches facing the river. I sit down on a lone bench.
The cold bites at my face. I tuck my cheeks into the thick collar of my coat and press my hands deep into my pockets.
The Potomac lies flat and dark before me, lights stretching thin across the water. I tilt my head up to the sky. It isn’t dark so much as pale, a low gray ceiling that catches the streetlights and holds them there.
I sit there in silence for a long time, lost in thoughts thick with uncertainty. The sight of the calm river helps slow my mind.
A tap on my shoulder makes me turn. It’s Victor, one of my bodyguards.
“It’s about to snow, miss.”
“I’d love to see it,” I say with a small smile.
He nods and walks back. I look around, on my side of the park, a few people sit on benches, well away from me.
Three benches away, a couple sits—the girl on the guy’s lap, their faces hidden where their hoodies merge. They’re kissing.
Two benches beyond them, a man sits alone. I pause for a moment, then slowly move my head back to see the man clearly. I can’t make out his face from this distance, but the silhouette is familiar enough to stop my heart.
The couple stands, blocking my view, then walks away. Now there’s no one between us. I rise slowly on shaky legs and take small steps toward him.
The closer I get to him, the harder it becomes to breathe. When only one bench remains between us, he turns his head.
Our eyes lock, and everything inside me goes still. I don’t even dare breathe, for fear of waking from this dream.
This has to be a dream, one of those hundreds I’ve let myself over the past three weeks.
He gets up from the bench and stands before me. He looks exactly as I remember, except for the haunted look in his eyes, the weariness etched into his face.
Neither of us moves. We just stand there, watching each other. The snow has started to fall. I can feel it around me, though I can’t see it. I see nothing but the man my eyes have been starved to behold, even for a few minutes.
“We should leave.” Travis’s voice cuts through.
I turn to look at him.
“It’s going to be a heavy snowfall. Sir has called for you to come back,” he adds.
I nod, then turn my gaze forward, and my heart drops.
He’s gone.
Was I hallucinating?
Was he ever even here?
I look around, but I don’t see him. The increasing intensity of the snowfall blurs my vision.
To avoid raising questions in my bodyguards’ minds, I compose myself and begin walking out of the park.