Seven years after we fled the country, my thirteen-year-old daughter, Anna, was a name whispered in concert halls across the world—a piano prodigy. She could conjure magic from the most difficult compositions, her fingers dancing over the keys to release torrents of beautiful music. Yet, one simple song—a lullaby—remained untouched. No matter how many times it was requested, she refused. She was terrified that if she played it, the melody would soften her heart, and she would forgive the man who had broken it. So, when that man, Julian Astor, appeared at our door with a grand piano handcrafted by a master artisan, asking her to play that one lullaby, Anna just calmly shook her head. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know that piece.” Julian’s eyes reddened. He took her hand, his grip desperate, and placed it on the cool ivory of the keys. “What do you mean you don’t know it? Anna, you’re a genius! Isn’t a piano what you always wanted? Daddy’s bought it for you. From now on, you just have to tell me what you wish for, and I’ll make it happen.” Anna coolly withdrew her hand. “That won’t be necessary, sir. I can earn my own money for pianos now. You should take this one back to your daughter.” The words struck Julian like a blast of arctic air. He pulled Anna into a clumsy, frantic hug. “Anna, what are you talking about? You’re my only daughter.” Anna tilted her head, a picture of confusion. “But didn’t you say only Sylvia’s daughter was worthy of being your child? Didn’t you give the piano you promised me to her?” She let out a small, careless laugh. “It’s fine, sir. If you love Sylvia, go ahead and raise her daughter. I have my mom. That’s enough.” A storm of emotions churned within Julian. Of all the scenarios he’d rehearsed in his mind, he had never imagined this—this unyielding, impenetrable wall. He didn't know that we had already given him a thousand chances, each one met with his chilling indifference. In the five years we were married, he had endless opportunities to tell us the truth: that he was Julian Astor, the heir to the Astor fortune. But he kept his silence, a wall between us. Whenever Anna would say she wanted to play the piano for him, he’d play the part of the struggling father, brushing her off with a tired smile. “I’d love that, sweetie. But Daddy doesn’t have enough money right now. As soon as I do, I’ll buy you the biggest grand piano you’ve ever seen.” For five years, I took Anna to the city square every day to busk. And for five years, he watched us, his expression unreadable, his silence a heavy cloak. Every evening, as we trudged home, Anna’s eyes would shine with hope. “Mom, did we make enough for a piano today? I want to play Daddy a lullaby. It was the first song I ever learned!” And every time, I would count the meager collection of coins and bills in our jar and shake my head. “Almost, honey. We’re getting closer. Just a little more tomorrow.” Finally, a month before Anna’s birthday, as I counted the crumpled bills and heavy coins, my heart leaped. It was enough. Enough for the cheapest upright piano in the store. But when I took Anna’s hand and walked into the music shop, my world stopped. There, on the second-floor gallery, was Julian. He was holding another little girl, Sylvia’s daughter, as they admired a magnificent piano. My hand trembled as I pointed. “That piano… how much is it?” I asked the salesman. He gave me a practiced smile. “That one is a custom Steinway, ma’am. The gentleman ordered it a long time ago. It’s entirely handcrafted by a master in Germany. The price is eight hundred thousand dollars.” Eight hundred thousand dollars. The blood turned to ice in my veins. People had whispered that Julian wasn't who he seemed, but living in our drafty, rundown apartment with its broken furniture, I never let myself believe it. To think he had willingly endured that squalor for five years… what a performance. Seeing my silence, Anna looked up at me, her face a mask of innocent curiosity. “Mom, does Dad have a lot of money? Did he order that piano for me?” She was too young to understand the scene playing out on the balcony above. I looked down at her faded, hand-me-down dress, my mouth opening and closing like a fish, no words coming out. Sensing my distress, Anna’s small voice piped up, “Mom, it looks like Dad is busy with that lady. Maybe we should just go home. We can come back and buy one another time.” Her voice grew quieter with each word, the disappointment on her small face a physical weight. But I was too lost in my own spiraling shock to notice. I just took her hand and led her away. Back home, I dug out our legal documents and searched his name and official residence online. The Crestwood Estates, a private, gated community in the heart of the capital. I'd heard of it, even from our side of the country. It was a place of legends, where land was measured in gold, a sanctuary for the nation’s absolute elite. Julian Astor, you played us for fools. I wondered, when you watched us leave every morning and return every night, rain or shine, to perform for spare change… were you feeling pity? Or were you laughing at us, two pathetic fools trying to claw our way up from nothing? A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I picked up the phone and dialed a divorce lawyer. Hours later, the sound of footsteps approached the door. Julian was home. Anna, as always, ran to the door to greet him, her face bright with love. But Julian didn't even offer her a hug, his face a mask of exhaustion. Normally, Anna was used to his coldness. But today was different. She clung to the hem of his coat, refusing to let him pass. “Daddy, can you buy me a piano? My friend’s teacher taught her a lullaby, and I learned it just by listening. I want to play it for you.” “Alright, sweetie,” he said, the same old empty promise. “As soon as I make enough money.” “When is that?” Anna pressed, an uncharacteristic stubbornness in her voice. He hesitated, then finally sighed. “Soon. I promise.” Anna let out a whoop of joy, hugging my legs. “Mom, I’m getting a piano! I’m going to play so many songs for you and Daddy!” I smiled, my heart aching for her, but I allowed myself to hope. One day passed. Then two. A week crawled by. The promised piano was nowhere to be seen. One morning, I found Anna huddled under her covers, her small body shaking with silent sobs. Julian saw it too, but his face remained a blank slate. Then his eyes landed on me, and he brightened. “Oh, good, you’re here. Can you make some ginger tea and put it in a thermos for me? I need to take it with me.” Ginger tea. For Sylvia, of course. My own menstrual cramps were agonizing, a fact he had witnessed countless times, yet he’d never once offered so much as a painkiller. POP. That was the sound of the last thread of my patience snapping. The rage surged, hot and blinding, and before I knew it, the purse in my hand had connected with his head. The moment it happened, the tears came. He was the one who’d been hit, but I was the one crying, my sobs ragged and ugly. The blow had angered him, but the sight of my tears seemed to extinguish his temper. “You didn’t have to make it, Clara. What’s with the drama?” “The piano,” I choked out. “What about the piano you promised Anna?” He looked momentarily confused, as if he’d forgotten all about it. A flash of guilt crossed his face before he masked it with annoyance. “I’ll buy it. Do you have to hound me like a debt collector?” I’ll buy it. He’d said those words a thousand times over five years. A stone dropped in a well at least makes a splash. Julian’s promises vanished without a ripple. I stormed into Anna’s room and pulled her out from under the covers. “I’m divorcing your father,” I said, my voice shaking. “How would you feel about… going abroad? Just the two of us.” The idea of leaving the country was a foreign concept to a child like Anna, but it was our only real choice. The Astor family’s influence was too vast here. Only overseas could her talent truly flourish. My entire life savings would be just enough for two one-way tickets. Seeing my red-rimmed eyes, Anna wrapped her small arms around me. “Mom,” she whispered, “can we give Daddy one more chance?” Her voice was small but firm. “My birthday. If he forgets about the piano by my birthday… then we’ll leave.” “Okay,” I agreed. One last chance, Julian. That’s all you get. The next morning, we were back at our usual spot in the park. I was a graduate of a prestigious university, but after taking years off to raise Anna, no company would hire me. So, this was our life. I sold small toys and snacks from a folding table, while Anna sang and danced to draw a crowd. She was sweet and charming. Many people stopped by my little stall just because of her. “Excuse me, how much for the ice cream bars?” “Three dollars for one, five for two.” I looked up and froze. It was Sylvia. “I’ll take two, then. And please be quick, I don’t want my husband to see,” she whispered, acting as if she were a spy on a secret mission. She handed me a ten-dollar bill, darting her eyes around nervously as she stuffed the ice cream into her purse. Just then, a large hand shot out and grabbed hers. “Sylvia, I’ve told you a hundred times. You’re on your period, and you get cramps. No cold foods.” It was Julian. “We don’t want the ice cream,” he said, his voice flat. His eyes met mine, and his face instantly darkened. Sylvia, however, seemed oblivious. “Oh, come on, Julian. Look at her little girl, she’s so adorable. Let’s just buy two. It’s for a good cause.” The pity in her eyes was a dagger twisting in my gut. “Hiss—” In my distraction, the knitting needle I was holding slipped, piercing my finger. A bead of dark red blood welled up instantly. Seeing the blood, Julian frowned, taking an instinctive step toward me. “Julian! My stomach hurts so much!” The next second, Sylvia was clutching her abdomen, a pained expression on her face. Instantly, Julian turned, scooping her into his arms. As he held her, Sylvia rested her head on his shoulder and shot me a triumphant smirk. She knew. She’d known who I was all along. A sharp, acidic pain lanced through my heart. “Mommy, are you okay?” Anna, not understanding the adult drama unfolding, rushed to my side, blowing gently on my bleeding finger with her small mouth. “I’m fine, sweetie.” My heart melted. I pulled her into a tight hug. At least I still had Anna. As Julian started to walk away with Sylvia in his arms, Anna, still confused, called out to him. “Daddy, Mommy’s hurt! Come back and help her!” Julian’s steps faltered for a fraction of a second. Then, without turning back, he kept walking. I could faintly hear Sylvia’s voice drift back to us. “Julian, was that your daughter?” “No. I don’t know her. She must have mistaken me for someone else.” Mistaken me for someone else. Five years of devotion, five years of our lives, and all we were to him was a case of mistaken identity. I gently stroked Anna’s hair. “Did you hear that, honey? That man isn’t your daddy. We made a mistake.” That evening, the music shop called. A piano was waiting for me to sign for upon delivery. My heart hammered against my ribs. I rushed home with Anna, my mind racing. Julian was already there. Before I could speak, he pulled me into the bedroom. “Is your hand okay?” he asked, gently taking it to inspect the small wound. I pulled my hand back. “My hand is fine. Where’s the piano you bought?” “What piano?” I thought he was trying to surprise Anna, so I smiled. “Don’t play coy. The store already called me.” At that, Julian’s eyes flickered away. “They must have called the wrong number. Don’t worry, I’ll go buy one as soon as I have time.” As soon as he has time. He had enough time to stroll through the park with Sylvia, but not enough time to buy a piano he had promised his daughter weeks ago. The disappointment was a lead weight in my stomach. I didn’t know how I was going to explain this to Anna. Just then, my phone buzzed. A new friend request. My heart leaped, a dreadful premonition washing over me.
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