Chapter 433 Long Story


    His voice sank lower, heavy with every word. “After that night, he took my father and ran. He raised him while keeping up with his performances in the theater. He worked as both father and mother. Then one day, someone noticed his gift. From that moment on, he climbed to the very top of the piano world. By then, he was already middle-aged.


    “When my grandfather became famous, my grandmother showed up again. She had pushed him aside before, but now she wanted him back. This time he refused. He finally had the strength to do so. She would not give up. She turned her eyes on my father. She tempted him with her money and power. He walked straight back into her cage.”


    Tess’s voice cut through the silence.


    “But you were raised by your grandfather, weren’t you?”


    “Yes. L’s voice was soft, like leaves falling with no ce tond.


    “My mother died giving birth to me. My father hated me for it. He believed I stole her life. When he left, he abandoned me with my grandfather.”


    His words dropped like stones, filled with the loneliness of a child who had no home and no


    roots.


    Tess’s eyes softened.


    She had never guessed that this man, who always looked free of worry, carried such a heavy


    past.


    “My grandfather gave me everything. That is why I crossed the ocean to honor his wish.”


    His eyes burned with a sharp light.


    Tess met that gaze. Something else flickered inside it.


    She blinked, and it was gone. L had turned his head away.


    Perhaps that something was just her imagination, after all.


    She pressed her lips together, forcing down the unease that curled in her chest.


    When she turned away, L shifted, his eyes resting on the line of her cheek.


    His words had been honest. His story had been real.


    Chapter 433 Long Story


    But not all of it had been told.


    Just then, Lyra’s voice broke the heavy air.


    :


    “You were sent to find him. So why are you out here too?”


    Sheughed lightly as she came to stand behind them. Her tone felt like warm wind scattering


    the shadows.


    “Let’s go back.”


    Tess rose to her feet. She set the small stool against the wall.


    Her words were meant for L.


    He followed her lead, cing his stool by the wall before walking back with her.


    Inside, Lyra had already taken the photographs from under the ss and spread them across


    the table.


    Tess’s eyes caught on one. Her hand stopped in ce.


    She lifted it, her brows knitting tight. It was a photo of four people.


    She recognized three.


    Her grandmother. L’s grandfather. Herself.


    But thest one…


    A boy dressed like a prince doll from the west, polished and perfect. He looked her age. But she had no memory of him.


    Lyra narrowed her eyes, studying the picture. She turned to L.


    “L, this boy… that has to be


    you, doesn’t it?”


    At her words, Tess lifted her head. Her gaze met L’s steady eyes, zing with intensity.


    He did not look away. He smiled, showing his white teeth.


    “Yes. That’s me.”


    “Tess, we met when we were children.” His voice was soft and gentle.


    Tess’s brows stayed tight. The memory was gone.


    35


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    Maybe the reason his name had sounded familiar at first was because of that. Her forehead was still creased.


    L shrugged.


    “It doesn’t matter if you don’t remember.” What matters is now and whates after.


    Tess pressed her lips together. The air felt thick. She slid the photo into an envelope and tucked it into her bag, cutting the moment short.


    The others let it be.


    They moved on through the house.


    Tess brushed dust from the shelves, pulling down books to look through them.


    Her hand reached the very top and stopped on thest book.


    Most of the shelves held design manuals. But this one stood out. Its cover bore bold ck letters that spelled one word. Piano.


    Curiosity tugged at her. She pulled it free.


    The moment she lifted it, something slipped out and hit the floor with a dull sound.


    Lyra’s eyes darted toward it.


    Tess bent to pick it up, her face puzzled. It was a thick envelope.


    She opened it. Inside were sheets of paper, their edges browned with age.


    Her fingers brushed the fragile pages. They were handwritten scores.


    Lyra’s eyes narrowed. Her voice rang out, sharp and trembling.


    “L! Look at this. Are these your grandfather’s manuscripts?”


    Shockced every word.


    L stepped in close. His eyes swept over the pages. His gaze sharpened at once. His hand clutched the papers hard, then released them quickly, afraid they might tear.


    “Yes. This is his handwriting.”


    Lyra and Tess locked eyes. Lyra spoke fast, her breath quick. “Check if Splendor Sonata is in there. See if there’s even a draft!”


    Tess flipped through the papers quickly, then slowed.


    Her face turned unsure. She lifted her eyes to Lyra, troubled.


    She did not understand music at all.


    Lucia Morh


    <strong>Lucia Morh</strong> is a passionate storyteller who brings emotions to life through her words. When she’s not writing, she finds peace nurturing her garden.