Chapter 1

Seven years of marriage.

To repay a so-called debt, Devon trampled my daughter’s and my dignity into the dirt.

His savior’s son wanted to see fireworks, so Devon abandoned our daughter during the piano finals she had practiced a year for.

His savior’s son wanted a trophy, so Devon personally smashed the wooden music box our daughter had stayed up all night carving.

He always said, "Iris is a widow, and Leo has no father. They are so pitiful. Lily has us. Why can't she just let him have his way for once?"

"Devon, you owe Julian your life. If you want to pay him back, use your own life! Stop sacrificing my daughter's happiness to pay your debts!"

It wasn't until my daughter’s hands were covered in blood and she smashed that grand piano in despair that I finally threw the divorce papers in his face.

From then on, he could pay his debts all he wanted. I was going to live my own life.

The City Symphony Hall was lit as bright as day.

The auditorium was packed. The applause was deafening.

Seven-year-old Lily was wearing the white swan dress Devon had picked out for her. Standing beside the massive Steinway grand piano, her tiny hands gripped her skirt so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

"Next, let’s welcome Lily and her father, Devon, for their four-hands piano performance of 'The Starry Night'!"

The announcer's voice echoed through the vast hall.

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

The heavy red velvet curtain at the edge of the stage remained closed. No one came out.

Lily stood there under the glaring spotlight like an abandoned doll, enduring the stares, whispers, and confusion of thousands of people.

I sat in the front row, clutching my phone. The screen showed forty-two unanswered calls.

"The mailbox of the number you are calling is full..."

The cold, robotic voice of the operator felt like a rusty knife sawing slowly at my heart.

Six months ago, Lily had practiced until her fingers blistered just to get into this national youth piano final. Devon had held her gently, kissing her forehead, and swearing he would be there to help her win the championship.

"Daddy is your biggest supporter, Lily. You will definitely be the brightest little princess on that stage."

His promise was still ringing in my ears.

But now, where was he?

Lily’s eyes welled with tears, but she stubbornly refused to let them fall.

She looked at me and mouthed silently, "Mommy, where is Daddy?"

My heart squeezed so hard I could barely breathe.

I stood up, wanting to run onto the stage and pull my daughter into my arms. But suddenly, Lily turned around and walked toward that massive piano alone.

She climbed onto the piano bench, took a deep breath, and placed her trembling hands on the keys.

There were no deep bass chords from her father. No warm hand to guide her.

Alone, she played a fragmented version of "The Starry Night."

The high notes echoed through the hall, thin, fragile, and trembling—just like Lily.

My tears finally broke free.

Right then, my phone screen lit up.

It wasn't a call from Devon, but a notification from Snapchat.

Sender: Iris.

Attached was a picture taken at an amusement park.

Devon was wearing a custom suit, but he had thrown all professionalism out the window. He was carrying a six-year-old boy on his shoulders. The two of them were pointing at the fireworks in the night sky, laughing joyfully.

Iris’s caption read: “Thank you, Devon. When Leo was crying for his dad, you canceled all your work meetings just to watch the fireworks with him. Leo said today he finally feels like he has a dad.”

Boom.

The last string of sanity in my brain snapped completely.

Canceled all his work meetings.

So, the national final my daughter had spent six months preparing for—something she cherished like life itself—was just a "work meeting" he could cancel at any moment for Iris and her son.

On stage, Lily missed the very last note.

The sharp, jarring sound of the mistake stung everyone's ears.

She didn't bow. Instead, she stumbled off the stage, threw herself into my arms, bit my shoulder, and sobbed uncontrollably.

"Mommy, Daddy lied... Daddy doesn't want Lily anymore..."

I held her tight, my eyes locked on Devon’s smiling face on the phone screen. My nails dug so deep into my palms that they drew blood.

"Shh, Lily. Don't cry," I whispered, stroking her sweat-soaked hair. My voice was as cold as ice.

"He doesn't want you, and Mommy doesn't want him either."