Chapter 1

PROLOGUE

In my past life, Edward died in a raging fire to save me. Right before he drew his last breath, he begged me that if we ever got a second chance, I would look at him more—that I would love him, just once.

So when I was reborn, I gave up my international solo career. I dulled my own brilliance, content to be nothing more than his meek, devoted wife.

Until my grandmother fell critically ill. I begged him to send for top-tier specialists and lifesaving medication. Instead, he gave every single medical resource away for the sake of his student, Lauren, and an upcoming competition. Because of him, Grandma missed her critical treatment window, leaving her permanently paralyzed.

Then, he took the prized Guarneri violin Grandma had passed down to me, gave it to Lauren, and tossed a cheap student instrument at my feet just to humiliate me.

I finally woke up.

I chopped off my hair, picked up my bow, and submitted an audition recording to the Conservatoire de Paris.

Four hours later, I received an unconditional offer with a full-ride scholarship.

In seven days, I will return to the global stage.

And Edward will soon pay for every single choice he made.

Rhiannon's POV

The emergency room light glowed a harsh, blinding crimson.

I leaned against the icy white wall, clutching my phone with white knuckles as I dialed that private number once more.

*Beep.*

Nothing but a busy tone.

Edward Sterling was the sole heir to Sterling Healthcare and my husband of three years. In a situation like this, he was the only one who could pull strings.

"Mrs. Sterling, we can't wait any longer!" The attending physician burst through the double doors, sheer panic in his eyes above the surgical mask. "The rupture in her cerebral blood vessel is in an extremely delicate location. We need Pfizer's latest targeted thrombolytic medication right now, and Professor Stephen needs to lead the surgery immediately. You told us Mr. Sterling had arranged it all. Where is the surgeon? Where is the medication?"

My blood ran cold down to my fingertips.

My grandmother was the only family I had left in this world. She was the mentor who first taught me how to hold a violin.

And now, she lay behind those cold doors, her life slipping away with every rhythmic beep of the monitor.

"I... I'll call him again," I rasped, my voice thick with desperation.

Hands trembling, I dialed his executive assistant's line. This time, the call finally connected, but it was Edward's cold voice on the other end.

"Rhiannon, didn't I tell you never to interrupt me with trivial nonsense while the orchestra is rehearsing?" His tone carried blatant irritation.

Trivial nonsense?

My breath hitched in my throat. "Edward, Grandma isn't going to make it! Where are Professor Stephen and the targeted meds? You promised me yesterday that you'd clear all the medical resources!"

A brief silence hung over the line before Edward spoke again. "I had Professor Stephen rerouted to the private clinic. Lauren has severe laryngitis. Her international competition is next week, and her physical condition cannot be compromised in any way. As for the medication, Lauren's anti-inflammatory treatment requires it too. I've already sent the entire batch to her."

My eyes widened in disbelief. For a moment, I wondered if my hearing had completely failed me.

"Edward, what are you saying?" My voice shook violently. "Lauren just has a sore throat! My grandmother is fighting for her life in the ICU! Stephen is a world-renowned neurosurgeon... and you had him go look at Lauren's throat?! Do you hear how insane that sounds?!"

"Edward, if you never intended to help, you could have just told me no from the start! Why play this sick game and screw me over at the last second?!"

"Rhiannon, watch your tone," Edward snapped, his voice dropping into a harsh chill.

"Lauren is my star pupil. She represents the future of this orchestra, and she represents years of my hard work. If she doesn't place in next week's competition, the orchestra's international reputation will take a hit," he said coldly. "Your grandmother is eighty years old. Even with the surgery, her survival rate is negligible. Lauren's future is infinitely more important than an old woman's dying breath. Face reality, Rhiannon, and stop throwing tantrums like a lunatic."

The call cut off without mercy.

I stared blankly at the darkened screen, my ears ringing with deafening static. An open window at the end of the corridor let in a blast of late-autumn chill. The draft cut straight through my thin knit sweater, but it was nothing compared to the absolute frost spreading through my chest.

Just then, the ER doors swung open again. The doctor pulled down his mask, his gaze heavy with defeat. "Mrs. Sterling, I'm so sorry. We missed the golden window for the thrombolytic therapy and the surgery... We managed to stabilize her vitals, but the massive brain tissue necrosis is irreversible. She... she will be permanently bedridden and paralyzed."

Paralyzed.

The elegant woman who once used a wooden ruler to teach me how to breathe soul into violin strings; the woman who had closed her eyes in Vienna's Golden Hall, listening to the music, proudly telling everyone, "That's my granddaughter"—she was now reduced to a withered husk, confined to a hospital bed, unable to speak, unable to move.

I didn't cry.

Step by step, I walked to the glass window, gazing in at Grandma covered in monitors and tubes. Her skin was as pale as paper. The hands that once coaxed the most ethereal melodies from strings hung limply over the edge of the mattress, her fingertips tinged with a faint, bruised purple.

*Why?*

I asked myself the question over and over again in the silence of my mind.

In my past life, I was relentless in my pursuit of my musical dreams, my heart forged of steel. Even after our arranged marriage, I never truly cared about Edward. I toured the world, basking in bouquets and ovations, leaving Edward with nothing but the cold view of my retreating back. Until that sudden inferno trapped us both—and that proud, untouchable man threw himself into the flames without a second thought, shielding me with his own flesh and blood.

I could still clearly remember the look in his eyes right before he died. Those dark, impenetrable eyes were filled with desperate pleading and an overwhelming, uncontainable devotion. Through the smoke and fire, he cupped my cheek, his voice hoarse and shattered: *"Rhiannon... if we ever get a second chance at this, don't look at your violin anymore. Look at me, okay? Please... just love me..."*

So when I opened my eyes again and realized I had been sent back three years, I snapped my own wings without hesitation.

I gave up the solo career that was about to launch me onto the global stage. I willingly demoted myself to an unremarkable, background musician in his orchestra.

I buried all my sharp edges, my eyes fixed solely on him.

I thought this was how I could repay him for the life he gave me.

I was wrong.

"Edward Sterling..." I pressed my forehead against the cold glass, whispering softly, my words dissipating like smoke. "The debt you owe my grandmother with this life—I will remember it."

I didn't try calling him again. I simply sat alone outside the intensive care unit all through the night.

When the first pale sliver of dawn broke through the clouds, I stood up, smoothed down the wrinkles on my coat, and walked out of the hospital.

My gaze was completely different now. The meek, compliant warmth I had forced myself to wear for penance was gone, replaced by eyes as sharp as a newly honed blade.