Emily Blair's eyes darkened as her hands slowly curled into fists.

The grand piano in front of her was worth a small fortune-flown in from France at great expense, carefully chosen by Andrew Lane himself. It carried more than just music; it was heavy with memories.

She remembered, with painful clarity, that it was on her birthday when Andrew Lane had gifted this very piano-not to her, but to Isabella Austin.

Just last year, things between her and Andrew hadn't been nearly as strained as they were now.

Back then, Andrew had truly treated her like a little sister-attentive, gentle, always looking out for her.

Every birthday since Emily had been adopted by the Lane family, Andrew had gone out of his way to make her feel special.

This piano, with its eye-watering price tag, was meant to be her birthday present.

She could still recall how Andrew had led her to the music room that day.

He'd blindfolded her, his broad, warm chest just behind her, his scent wrapping around her in a way she couldn't resist.

Her heart pounded as Andrew placed her hand on the doorknob.

His voice had softened. "Open the door yourself."

In that moment, her heart thundered in her chest.

But everything came to a screeching halt at the sudden click of high heels behind her.

Andrew's hand slipped from hers, the warmth vanishing, leaving Emily momentarily lost.

Then came Isabella Austin's voice.

It was the first time Emily had ever heard it-the first time she'd seen Isabella in person.

She'd heard the stories, of course, whispered by others about Isabella's beauty and Andrew's devotion.

Emily had always assumed Isabella was part of Andrew's past-just a lingering memory.

That was, until Isabella-eyes red from crying-handed Andrew a diary filled with Emily's most secret hopes and girlish dreams. When Andrew read the confessions she'd penned about him, his gentle gaze turned cold and unreadable.

Right in front of her, Isabella draped herself around Andrew like a seductive serpent, her vulnerability forcing Andrew to choose between them.

No surprise-Andrew chose Isabella.

The piano that should have been Emily's was handed over to Isabella as if she'd never mattered at all.

It was then Emily realized Isabella wasn't just part of Andrew's past—she was his present and, without a doubt, his future.

Now, looking back, Emily barely remembered the sting of betrayal, the disbelief that had once left her breathless.

But here it was again—the same piano Andrew and Isabella were about to play together, a duet meant to showcase their perfect harmony.

Emily tore her gaze away, grabbed the script for the evening, and turned to leave. Sometimes, she wondered why Andrew lingered like a ghost she couldn't shake off.

When she spotted his car waiting outside the campus gate, she nearly turned back for the safety of the school.

She stopped a few paces from the car, contemplating flight, but before she could act, Andrew's assistant stepped out from the front seat. With a stern expression, he opened the back door and gestured for her to get in.

Emily knew resistance was useless. She climbed in quietly.

Andrew was there, as always impeccably dressed in a black suit, reclined with his eyes closed, hands folded in his lap.

Emily barely glanced at him before turning her eyes away. "I want to go back to Kingswood Estate."

Kingswood Estate was the old apartment complex where she lived now with Emma George not far from here.

Andrew's dark eyes flicked toward her, voice low and even. "We're going to Misty Vale Villa."

The driver responded at once, starting the car.

Emily took a deep breath. “Why are we going to your place?”

Misty Vale Villa was Andrew's luxury penthouse on the other side of town.

Andrew closed his eyes again, his tone cool and dismissive. "To celebrate your birthday."

Emily was taken aback. Her brows knitted in confusion as she stared at him. "Why?"

After all, he'd already drawn the line between them at her last birthday. Why pretend now?