Chapter 2

The next morning, I said to William, "Let’s go to Stirling Manor together."

His expression stiffened for a fleeting moment before he quickly resumed that impeccable veneer of a gentleman.

"Alright. We'll drop off the gift and come straight home."

I knew he didn't want me to go; he didn't want me ruining Olivia's moment of glory.

But I just wanted one last look—to see how much more that woman, who had stolen my life, intended to take. After all, tomorrow I would be gone.

When we arrived at the manor, guests were already thronging the halls. Champagne towers glittered in the sunlight as everyone congratulated Olivia on her double celebration.

Olivia was surrounded by the crowd, like a proud princess. Everyone was praising her, saying her lead single was simply a gift from God.

They even mentioned that a famous music critic had called it "the most soul-stirring melody of this century."

Seeing me walk in on William's arm, Olivia's face visibly paled, but she quickly plastered on a sweet smile.

She walked over, champagne glass in hand, her tone laced with a subtle, barely perceptible provocation: "You came too, Charlotte? It seems you have a lot of free time lately. Don't you need to practice the piano?"

I ignored her mockery, my gaze locked tight on the piece of music currently playing. The melody was so familiar it was suffocating.

That was a manuscript I had written late at night two years ago, never publicly released.

How did my heart and soul end up here? And how did it become her ace card for a Grammy bid?

Olivia looked at me, her lips curling into a vicious smile. She suddenly leaned in, whispering in a voice only the two of us could hear: "Do you like this piece, Charlotte? Too bad. It’s mine now."

I shot her a cold glance and was about to speak when she suddenly let out a sharp scream: "Don't!"

Before I could even react, she exaggeratedly fell backward, clutching her stomach, collapsing onto the thick carpet with a look of agony.

The surrounding guests instantly exploded into chaos.

"What happened?"

"Olivia is pregnant! How could she push her?"

"Quick, call an ambulance!"

Amidst the confusion, I heard a panicked voice shout, "Olivia!"

Others might not have distinguished it, but I recognized it instantly.

It was William's voice.

He pushed through the crowd and rushed over, the undisguised panic and heartache in his eyes piercing through the last shred of illusion remaining in my heart like a sharp blade.

Once he confirmed Olivia was merely frightened, William quickly forced himself to calm down.

He turned to me, his tone barely suppressing his blame: "No matter what, Olivia is pregnant. You shouldn't have pushed her."

Just then, a breaking news alert scrolled across the hall's screen: the song had just broken streaming records.

A flash of unconcealed relief crossed William's face. It was a look of genuine pride I hadn't seen directed at me in five years.

I asked him in a low voice, "Why is Olivia's breakout hit identical to my manuscript?"

He froze for a second, then looked away.

"It’s probably a coincidence. Maybe your inspirations just happened to crash into each other," he said, feigning ignorance.

I let out a cold laugh and said no more.

That manuscript was locked in the safe in my study; only William knew the combination.

Combined with the specific variation at the end of the score, everything was already plain as day.

Although a few notes were changed, the logic of the arrangement was exactly like the habits William used when guiding me through revisions.

How the song got here, and who paved the way for her behind the scenes—the answer was obvious.

I had planned to give him this song as a gift for our fifth wedding anniversary, to commemorate our love.

But thinking about it now, since this marriage itself was a scam, the song was meaningless.

I let out an extremely soft laugh, light as a sigh.

William seemed to sense something was off with me, his expression faltering slightly.

He then suggested, "Why don't we leave now? Let's go to the villa by the sea. It's quiet there."

I looked up at him, the corners of my mouth hooking into a faint arc.

"I want to take the yacht out. The sea breeze tonight should be very comfortable."