Chapter 2

I spun on my heel and walked away, heading straight back to the estate to pack my things.

At some point, Greyson appeared behind me, leaning against the doorframe with his eyes cast downward, completely unreadable.

Once I finished packing, he reached out a hand to block my path just as I tried to brush past him.

“Six years, and you’re still this stubborn?” he murmured. “You refuse to bow your head to me. All you have to do is open your mouth and beg…”

I let out a sharp, furious laugh. “Beg you for what? To give me a path to survive? My reputation is utterly ruined, my career as a concert pianist is dead, and everyone avoids me like the plague.”

After that massive wave of cyberbullying, no one would hire me to perform. I was dismissed from the faculty, and the private piano academy I had opened went completely bankrupt.

Greyson sneered. “That’s exactly what you deserve.”

Then, shifting his tone, he held out a sleek black card. “There’s a million dollars in here. It’s more than enough for you to live out a quiet, ordinary life. The pin code is... the date we officially got together.”

When I didn’t reach for it, he casually tossed it at me. It struck my jacket before fluttering onto the hardwood floor.

I ground my heel hard against the card, speaking every syllable with venom. “I forgot the date we got together a long time ago.”

Greyson’s face darkened instantly. “Don’t you dare regret this.”

The moment I stepped back inside my cramped, tiny rented apartment, my phone started ringing. It was my mother, Evelyn Lane.

As soon as I picked up, her sharp, accusatory voice filled the line. “How did I end up with a daughter like you?! I saw the news today. You actually did something so shameful, and yet Scarlett is still out there defending you…”

My father, Thomas Lane’s, muffled scolding echoed in the background, prompting me to hang up immediately.

I had heard these exact lectures so many times that I was entirely numb to them.

The entire world was accusing me of being a thief.

Life after the divorce became incredibly tight financially. I was forced to take on low-paying tutoring gigs and small commercial gigs just to get by.

Three months later, I was scrolling through my phone when a headline popped up, announcing Greyson and Scarlett’s upcoming wedding.

I froze for a split second, then quietly swiped the news away.

Later that afternoon, Scarlett tracked me down just as I was leaving the apartment, a smug smile plastered across her face. “Zia, it’s been a while. How have you been lately?”

I lifted my eyes coldly. “Do you want something?”

“Of course I do! I want to hire you to play a piece at Greyson’s and my wedding. I remember how beautifully you play the piano!”

Scarlett and I had grown up together, taking piano lessons side by side. She used to always tell me how intensely she envied my talent.

Looking back now, her ultimate betrayal and manipulation hadn’t come out of nowhere.

“I’m not going.”

I turned to walk away, but she lunged forward and gripped my wrist tight. “The performance fee is a hundred thousand dollars.”

I was desperately strapped for cash. The moment I heard the figure, I accepted without hesitation.

On the day of the wedding, I sat elegantly at the grand piano, pouring my focus entirely into the performance.

The guests mingling around the venue looked at me with varying degrees of shock, whispering quietly among themselves.

Greyson completely froze the moment he caught sight of me.

I forced a tight smile and spoke softly across the room. “Happy wedding day.”

The melody remained exactly the same, but the person and the setting had completely changed.

Greyson and I had never actually had a wedding.

On the day we got married, he had simply played Mariage d'Amour for me on the piano, and we exchanged our rings in total privacy.

He had told me, “Zia, I really dislike loud, crowded events. I know it’s unfair to you, but from now on, whenever you play the piano, I know you’ll always think of this moment when we exchanged our rings.”

I certainly thought of that moment today. Except I was playing at his wedding to someone else.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please stand for the entrance of the bride.”

Scarlett wore a stunning, familiar white gown as she walked slowly toward Greyson, her face radiant with pure bliss.

Greyson stared at her, momentarily lost in a daze.

Near the piano, a guest whispered excitedly, “Wow, look at that dress. Mr. Walker designed it himself.”

A wave of dizziness hit me as a vivid memory surfaced. During the third year of our marriage, Greyson had promised to make up for our missing wedding by designing a custom gown with his own hands.

As it turned out, his words “let’s get a divorce” had arrived long before any wedding ever could.

The corners of my eyes stung with a sudden, uncontrollable burning, and my finger slipped, accidentally striking a jarring, wrong note.