Stella was playing her signature piece, an original composition called Moonlight.
The music floated through the hall, graceful and ethereal, like a sky shimmering with scattered starlight beneath the cover of night.
A luminous full moon seemed to rise slowly over the rippling surface of a lake, casting a silvery veil across the water.
Gradually, the room settled into a hush.
This violin solo was tranquil and soothing, tinged with a faint melancholy, but never descending into sorrow or despair.
It didn’t weigh heavy on the heart; instead, it gently pulled the listener into a tide of memories, awakening echoes of the past.
There was something in the melody that resonated inexplicably.
Skyler sat in the audience, eyes fixed on Stella as she played, his thoughts drifting far away.
In that moment, Stella’s figure overlapped with a shadow from his memories—her mother’s.
He remembered vividly the first time he’d fallen for Stella’s mother; it was when he saw her on stage, playing the violin just like this.
So earnest, so focused, so dazzling.
Even the darkness of night couldn’t dim her brilliance.
He had never told the Williams brothers or Stella herself, but their mother was truly remarkable.
She was gifted, her talent for music nearly unmatched. She had achieved extraordinary things at an age when most people hadn’t even begun to dream.
During the years when he’d lost his memory, she gave up her own career to take over the Williams Group.
Single-handedly, she had steered the company through stormy waters.
For a woman to hold her ground among the wolves that circled the Williams Group—it was no small feat.
She managed the business, searched tirelessly for him, and cared for their three children all at once.
When he finally returned, she handed the reins back to him—without hesitation, even though his memory hadn’t fully returned.
Later, when he regained his memory, he became ensnared in a complicated relationship with Aurora’s mother.
Deep down, he always believed that after all they’d been through—after he had nearly died for her, after they’d had three children together, after she’d secured a twenty percent share in the Williams Group—she would never really leave him.
To Nora, neither money nor power meant anything; she could toss it all aside without a second thought.
If she decided to leave, nothing could ever make her stay.
He hated her for that. And yet, he loved her for it too.
Aurora’s mother had been a wonderful woman as well. If not for the burdens her family placed on her, she could have had a far better life.
They had been married for three years, but his own negligence led to her untimely death—a regret that weighed heavily on his conscience.
He often thought back to the happy moments they’d shared.
But even so, the person he loved most had always been Nora.
So after Nora left, he never tried to replace her. Not once.
Back then, when Nora sent Stella back to the Williams family, he thought it was just a tactical retreat.
Stella was his own daughter; it was only right that he cared for her.
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