Upstairs,
Elizabeth opened the door, her tone casual but brisk. “Just leave the things in the living room.”
Oliver set the bags down, glancing around the small apartment. He straightened and hesitated before saying, “Ms. Sandra, let me help you clean.”
Elizabeth shook her head, already heading toward the dust-covered furniture. “No need. I can manage. You should rest.”
Oliver looked uncertain, his eyes briefly darting to Elijah, who stood silently near the door.
“Meet me at the alley entrance at eight tomorrow,” Elijah said, his voice calm but firm.
“Yes, sir.” Oliver gave a curt nod and headed for the door.
Elizabeth paused, turning to Elijah with a slight raise of her eyebrow. “Aren’t you leaving?”
“Where would I go?” Elijah replied, pulling off the dust cover from the sofa.
There was a soft click as Oliver gently shut the door behind him.
The apartment was modest—much smaller than the master bedroom at Bayview Villa. Elijah’s broad shoulders seemed to crowd the narrow space.
Elizabeth moved deftly across the room, tugging at the dust covers draped over furniture. Each piece she uncovered seemed to unearth a memory, remnants of her childhood preserved in neat, orderly arrangements.
“Sit down,” she said, tossing a dust cover aside. She grabbed a bottle of water from the items Oliver had brought and held it out to him. “Drink this. Don’t get in my way. Tonight, you sleep in my room, and I’ll take Grandma’s room.”
He said nothing, only settling onto the sofa, the bottle unopened in his hand.
The apartment faced south, catching the sun, warm in winter and cool in summer, comfortable even without air conditioning.
As Elizabeth continued cleaning, Elijah opened his laptop. His fingers hovered idly over the keys, his attention drifting to her.
She had tied her hair up in a loose knot, exposing the graceful curve of her neck. Her movements were fluid and purposeful, her posture upright and composed, like that of a seasoned performer even in such a mundane task.
He watched her, wondering if the same grace had once filled Bayview Villa when she took charge of the house.
Eventually, Elizabeth uncovered the last piece of furniture: an upright piano. Its glossy black finish reflected the sunlight, understated in design but impossible to mistake.
Elijah leaned forward, his sharp gaze catching the embossed gold “M” near the logo—a bespoke Steinway from the Morrison family’s collection, its value far exceeding the grand piano at Norris Mansion.
The most striking feature was the gold-embossed “M” next to the piano’s logo, the exclusive mark of the Morrison family in Isonridge.
“That’s my grandfather’s piano,” Elizabeth said, her voice pulling him from his thoughts. She traced a finger along its polished surface, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “I heard it’s very expensive. A gift from someone who admired him.”
She paused, her expression softening as memories surfaced. “When I was little, I spilled a drink on it. Grandma punished me—the only time she ever did. She was so angry, I thought she might never forgive me.”
Elijah’s brows knitted slightly. The Morrison family was known for lavishing gifts on talented individuals in the arts.
Yet if her grandfather had such connections, how could they have stood by while Oliver mistreated Danna?
He pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on her face.
She was flushed, likely from the exertion of cleaning. Her cheeks glowed softly in the warm light, stirring something in him.
A dryness settled in his throat, and he took a sip from the bottle.
Before he could think better of it, Elijah rose and crossed the room. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him. The sudden movement startled Elizabeth. Her hand shot out, landing on the piano keys, producing a jarring, discordant note.
She stiffened, her breath quickening as she turned her face away. “Stop it,” she said, in a shaky voice.
Elijah leaned down, his lips brushing lightly against her cheek, then stopping at her ear.
His breath was warm, carrying a faint, woody scent laced with tobacco. “Play for me,” he murmured, his tone husky, lingering in the small space between them.
Elizabeth’s pulse raced. Normally, she would have refused, but the intensity in his gaze left her flustered. She stepped back, putting a hand on his chest to create some distance. “What do you want to hear? I’m no virtuoso. I only know the beginner pieces …and that song from last time.”
Her reference to Melany’s birthday made his lips quirk in amusement.
“If someone had asked you for another song that night,” he teased, “wouldn’t your secret have been exposed?”
“Move aside.” She nudged his foot with hers.
Elijah stepped back, watching as she pulled out the piano bench and sat down. She looked up at him, her posture poised but a hint of defiance in her eyes. “No one did,” she said simply.
He chuckled softly, leaning casually against the wall beside her. “Then play that one.”
Elizabeth pressed a few test notes, her fingers tentative at first but quickly finding their rhythm. The melody flowed smoothly, her movements elegant and deliberate, as though she were performing for an invisible audience. The soft glow from the window seemed to highlight her features, her focus giving her an almost ethereal quality.
Elijah’s gaze wandered—her slightly forward-leaning posture drawing his eyes down to her chest.
He froze briefly, a strange mix of guilt and intrigue washing over him.
He looked away but found his attention snapping back to her, drawn like a moth to a flame.
The music ended, the final note lingering in the air. Before she could rise, Elijah stepped forward. Without a word, he gently lifted her onto the piano.
