Chapter 523

Andrew Lane drifted for a moment, a strange sense of déjà vu tugging at him. He was sure he’d seen this scene before.
After a while, the music in the room faded away. The piano fell silent.
Andrew frowned slightly and glanced over.
Emily Blair was still seated on the piano bench, her body turned toward him. Her gaze was calm and clear, her voice even.
“Mr. Lane, I’ve finished playing.”
Andrew met her sharp, black-and-white eyes—and suddenly, he remembered where he’d seen this before.
It was in a dream.
One evening after work, on a whim, he’d told his driver to pull up at a music store. He couldn’t say why, but he bought that very piano and had it delivered to The Lane Estate.
When Grandpa Kevin and Isabella Austin questioned him about it, he’d rubbed his brow, unable to explain his impulse.
He only knew that the sight of the piano brought back memories of Emily Blair, thirteen years old and new to the Lane family. The memory had struck him with such force that he’d bought the piano on the spot.
“It was just a random purchase. Don’t mind it,” he’d told Grandpa Kevin and Isabella.
The piano ended up in Emily’s old bedroom, set up neatly.
That very night, he dreamed of her.
In his dream, Emily sat at the piano just as she did now, playing a melody he didn’t recognize. She wore her school uniform, her hair pulled into a high ponytail that swayed as her fingers danced over the keys.
But in the dream, she was different.
The thing that stood out most was the way dream-Emily would glance back at him as she played, her face younger, her smile brighter, her eyes sparkling with laughter.
He never understood why he’d dreamed that. By morning, the details had all but slipped away-until today, when suddenly, he remembered everything. Even the curve at the corner of her eye as she’d smiled in his dream.
Emily waited for Andrew’s response, unsettled by the odd look in his eyes. An uneasy chill crept over her.
She called out again, a little louder: “Mr. Lane, I said I’ve finished playing.”
Andrew looked lost in thought.
After a few seconds, he snapped back to himself, cleared his throat, and spoke in a low voice. “I know.”
Emily stared at him for a moment, at a loss. Then she stood from the piano bench. “Mr. Lane, you promised me just now—”
But a sudden noise from the hallway cut her off, the words catching in her throat.
The Lane Estate’s walls were thick, but not thick enough to drown out every sound. Louder noises still carried, and the piano was certainly one of them.
When Emily had begun to play, the music drifted down to the living room below. The guests there all invited by the Lane family, most hoping to curry favor with Andrew-had been chatting quietly after he left the room. Isabella Austin, as Mrs. Lane, moved gracefully among them, all warm smiles and genial conversation.
Tristan Davis, who didn’t know any of these people and had no intention of mingling, sat restlessly on the edge of his seat, his mind on Emily ever since she’d left the room. He paid no attention to the conversations around him.
The living room was mostly quiet, broken only by hushed voices and the clink of glasses.
So when the piano music floated down, conversation died in an instant.
Tristan’s expression darkened; he shot up from the couch, glaring toward the upstairs rooms.
Isabella’s face went pale for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure.
The guests exchanged nervous glances, no one daring to break the silence.
When Emily and Andrew had climbed the stairs earlier, everyone had watched them go. The second-floor railing barely came up to an adult’s waist, so the living room offered a clear view of everything happening upstairs.