The girl stared down at her own hands in astonishment as her fingers moved fluidly across the keys, melodic and sure.
“Dad I actually did it!”
Pure wonder in her voice.
“Mm-hm.” The man smiled, nodding, then glanced up toward the woman standing beside the grand piano, chin resting in her palm, watching father and daughter with a soft smile.
She was striking a fitted crimson dress, elegant curls tumbling loose over pale shoulders, effortlessly captivating.
He crossed the room toward her, leaving the little girl at the piano.
One hand tucked behind his back, he bent forward at the waist, extending his other palm toward her in a formal invitation.
“May I have this dance?”
“You may.” She smiled and slid her hand into his.
The music swelled, and he guided her into an easy, graceful turn, one hand steady at her waist.
The crimson skirt caught the breeze, and for a moment the whole scene seemed suspended, frozen in gold light.
The little girl kept playing, focused and careful with every note.
Another gust of wind stirred the curtains, and she glanced up toward the window it had come from.
Through the glass, across the way, a young boy stood on the second-floor balcony of a neighboring villa, watching her.
A crisp beige polo shirt, English style.
Beneath the fine wisps of hair falling across his forehead, his eyes were jet black.
Still.
Calm.
And even at that age, sharp as a blade.
Time collapsed, and grown Eliana watched that boy’s innocent, familiar face blur into the adult face of Nathaniel Cole.
Composed.
Reserved.
Sharp and calculating underneath.
Beep beep beep
Eliana’s eyes snapped open in the hospital room.
The ceiling spun overhead, white and dizzying.
Nausea rolled through her.
The sharp bite of antiseptic filled her senses, and a deep ache pulsed behind her temples.
She lay there as though the bed itself were rocking on open water.
The dream kept replaying, fragment after fragment.
Her parents danced, years ago.
Nathaniel’s dark, watchful eyes as a boy.
Tears slid silently down her face.
She couldn’t tell anymore whether they came from the pain in her body or the ache of memory.
“…Did you run her over yourself?
Is that why you were so quick to ignore my calls?”
“Chloe.
Don’t push this.”
Raised voices carried through the door, and Eliana’s brow furrowed.
She recognized both.
Chloe.
Nathaniel.
Arguing?
About what?
She forced herself upright despite the dizziness, which barely eased at all.
She caught the chart clipped beside her bed.
Concussion.
Her fingers found the gauze taped over her forehead, and the memory of impact came rushing back.
Then, instinctively, her hand dropped to her stomach.
Still a dull ache there.
Was the baby still there?
She didn’t know.
“…Are you seriously going to fight me over her?!”
The argument outside sharpened, voices climbing.
Chloe, shouting something now.
It sounded like she was under attack.
Eliana forced herself out of bed, slid on the hospital slippers, and made her way unsteadily toward the door, one hand tracing the wall.
Through the doorway, she spotted three figures near the emergency exit down the hall.
Nathaniel.
Chloe.
Vivian.
Nathaniel still wore the same clothes from that morning.
Vivian had changed into a soft beige designer suit.
They were locked in some kind of standoff with Chloe, still in her white coat, and Eliana couldn’t tell what exactly was happening.
Afraid Chloe was about to get steamrolled, Eliana called out, “What is going on here?!”
“Eliana!” Chloe was the first to react, rushing over to steady her.
Nathaniel caught Vivian by the arm to keep her upright, his eyes sweeping over Eliana head to toe before landing, finally, on the gauze at her forehead.
“What happened?” Eliana asked.
Before Chloe could answer, Nathaniel cut in, voice cold.
He looked at Eliana, dripping with sarcasm.
“Looks like you’re just fine.”
Seeing her upright, pale but steady, with nothing more than a small bandage on her head, his anger surged all over again.
So this had all been staged.
Her and Chloe together.
Faked the whole accident just to drag him away from Vivian?
He thought back to the flood of calls in the car, to Vivian doubling over beside him, guilt-stricken, coughing blood and his anger climbed higher still.
No wonder Chloe hadn’t wanted him anywhere near this room earlier.
He shouldn’t have let her guilt him into coming at all.
A vein stood out at his neck as he looked away.
All that panic, all that worry on the drive over for nothing.
Eliana had no idea what he was talking about.
She’d only just regained consciousness, and the concussion had her stomach still lurching.
Chloe rounded on him furiously.
“Nothing’s wrong?
Did you not see the gash on her forehead?
Or did what I told you just not register at all?!”
Vivian shot back flatly, “That little strip of gauze?”
“Vivian!” Chloe’s voice climbed even higher.
Vivian straightened, drawing herself up with indignation.
“He made dozens of calls trying to reach you while driving, then had Chloe call and rip into him just to get him here over a scrape that size?”
“Do you have any idea how much traffic is on that elevated highway right now?
How dangerous that drive was for him?
Chloe, the way you talked, I genuinely thought Eliana was on death’s door!”
“Eliana.
Chloe.
I know I don’t have much time left but I won’t stand here and watch you two gang up on Nathaniel like this.”
Her voice rang out firm, steady.
She stepped fully out from behind him, visibly trembling but resolute.
The picture of a devoted woman standing guard over her man.
Nathaniel said nothing, just fixed Eliana with a cold, disgusted stare.
“That’s it, I’m done listening to this garbage!” Chloe snapped, lunging toward Vivian.
Vivian dropped the act instantly, squaring up to meet her.
Nathaniel reached out to intervene, and Eliana, completely lost on what was actually happening, grabbed Chloe’s other arm, terrified she was about to get hurt.
Chaos broke out right there by the emergency exit.
Chloe and Vivian were the true center of it.
Chloe practically unhinged with fury, Vivian putting on a show of fighting spirit while her eyes kept darting toward Eliana.
Neither one was holding back.
“Vivian, did you seriously just pinch me?!”
Smack!
“Ow!
Chloe, did you just slap me?!”
Eliana and Nathaniel both tried to pull them apart, and within seconds all four of them were a tangle of grabbing hands, impossible to sort out whose was whose.
The fight spilled from the exit into the corridor, Vivian and Chloe’s shouting echoing off the walls.
Then something cold and calculating flashed through Vivian’s eyes.
In the same motion as slamming her head into Chloe’s, she let her body “accidentally” knock Nathaniel’s steadying hand loose.
The next instant, Eliana still gripping Chloe’s arm felt a sharp shove against her side.
Before she even registered it, she’d been pushed backward, right up against the stairwell railing.
She was pregnant.
This was a stairwell.
If she went over
No.
It happened in a fraction of a second.
Eliana wrenched her body sideways, grabbing for the railing, fighting with everything she had to stay upright.