I gave the stolen sandwich to a scrawny girl shivering in the alley, and she became my shadow. Two orphans with nowhere else to go. We survived together. At sixteen, I found Seraphina cornered by three gang punks behind the bodega. I grabbed a broken bottle and took down four before their leader showed up with his crew. They left me half-dead on the pavement. Two weeks in bed before I could walk again. Seraphina loved music. On her seventeenth birthday, I broke into a high-end music store in SoHo and stole a vintage keyboard. Got arrested that same night. Spent two weeks in juvie. When I got out, she was waiting with red-rimmed eyes. "Never do something that stupid for me again," she whispered. At nineteen, Seraphina got her acceptance letter to Juilliard. I wasn’t built for college, but I so happy when I got the news.I worked three jobs—sometimes pulling double shifts at the construction site—just to cover her tuition. By twenty-four, Seraphina was a rising star. Piano prodigy. Concert halls across the country. We moved into a penthouse on the Upper East Side. Twenty-six years old, and I was still breaking my back on construction sites. She'd just won the International Tchaikovsky Competition. Gold medal. Front page of every music magazine. I saved for weeks, bought a secondhand keyboard, and planned to surprise her. Play something I'd been practicing. Tell her I loved her. I sat at that keyboard all night, waiting. She never came home. The next morning, my phone blew up with notifications. "Piano Prodigy Seraphina Wells Goes Official with Music Dynasty Heir Sebastian Thorne!" The photo showed her leaning into him, her eyes soft in a way I'd never seen. Not for me. Never for me. I knew Sebastian. Old money, Juilliard graduate, violin virtuoso. Everything I wasn't. I pressed a key on the keyboard. Dead silence. The batteries had died. Just like us.
"Bro, you're really coming back?" Leo's voice crackled through the phone, disbelief bleeding through every word. "After everything you did for Seraphina—she's a superstar now and you're leaving?" "Is she coming with you?" I dug my thumbnail into my palm, forcing my voice to stay light. "Just me. She's got her career in Manhattan. Big things happening." Silence. Then: "Something happen between you two?" I didn't know how to answer. How do you explain that love dies slowly? That we'd been boiling in the same pot for years, and the water had evaporated without either of us noticing? "There was never anything to begin with," I said. "You not happy I'm coming home?" "Hell no—I mean, hell yes! You're my best friend, man. Come back anytime." When I hung up, I stared at the penthouse. Two years we'd lived here. Fifteen years we'd survived together. Seraphina had carved herself into every corner of my life. Letting go wasn't an option—it was an impossibility. But I had to try. I grew up with nothing. No parents. Bounced between shelters and streets, begging for scraps. Then I met Seraphina. She was eleven, same as me. Gas leak explosion took out her entire apartment building. She came home from school to black rubble and police tape. The girl had nothing left. When she saw me stealing bread from a dumpster, she recognized something—kinship, maybe. Desperation. She followed me for three days before I finally split my sandwich with her. We'd been inseparable ever since. I saved her life more than once. Pulled her out of the East River when bullies threw her off a dock. Gave up my shot at trade school to work construction so she could attend Juilliard. When she got that acceptance letter, she sobbed into my chest. "I won't let you down," she'd promised. "I'll make this worth it." And she did. Within six years, she was headlining Carnegie Hall. We traded the crumbling studio in Queens for a penthouse with floor-to-ceiling windows. But the gap between us grew wider with every standing ovation. She was a prodigy. A sensation. I was a high school dropout with a criminal record. We didn't fit anymore. Maybe we never had. Especially after Sebastian entered her life. "Sebastian has such a deep understanding of Chopin. He can hear the smallest variations in my tempo." "Sebastian and I are planning a joint recital. His violin with my piano—it'll be incredible." "Sebastian helped repair the old Steinway today. He even knows how to voice hammers." Then, a week ago: "Won't be home tonight. Celebrating the gold medal with Sebastian." I needed to see him. Needed to understand what kind of man lived in the space I used to occupy.
Lincoln Center felt like a cathedral built for people I'd never be. I stood in the marble lobby wearing a faded jacket I'd owned since I was nineteen. Every person who passed me radiated wealth—tailored suits, silk scarves, designer shoes. I was a stain on their pristine world. "Excuse me, sir. Are you here for Miss Wells' rehearsal?" The voice belonged to a man in an immaculate navy suit. Warm smile. Perfect posture. The kind of guy who'd never had to fight for anything. Sebastian Thorne. I recognized him from the photos. "I'm looking for Seraphina. Can you point me in the right direction?" His smile dimmed. "Miss Wells is in rehearsal. I'm afraid she can't be disturbed right now." He studied me like I was a vagrant who'd wandered in from the street. "Who are you to her?" The question stabbed deeper than it should have. "I'm the person who raised her," I paused,and added, "Her brother." The words felt like a surrender. His expression softened immediately. "Oh,Welcome! You're Seraphina's brother. I apologize—I didn't realize." He gestured down the hall. "I'm actually headed to the rehearsal space now. You can walk with me." I followed him through the labyrinth of hallways, past musicians warming up in practice rooms, past posters of Seraphina's face plastered on every wall. People greeted Sebastian like royalty. He responded to each one with practiced charm. When we reached the rehearsal room, Seraphina was just stepping out. She froze when she saw me. Her eyes darted to Sebastian, then back to me. "Jax. What are you doing here?" Her tone wasn't warm. It was guarded. Almost... afraid. Afraid I'd embarrass her? Afraid I'd hurt Sebastian? I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Sebastian broke the tension. "Your brother came to see you. I thought we could all grab dinner together." She didn’t refute it—not a word, not a single flicker of denial. The restaurant was the kind of place where they don't list prices on the menu. I sat across from Sebastian and Seraphina, watching them speak a language I didn't understand. "The rubato in the third movement needs to breathe more," Sebastian said. "You're rushing the diminuendo." Seraphina nodded, her eyes bright. "I was thinking the same thing. And the left-hand voicing in measure forty-seven—" "Needs more weight," Sebastian finished. "Exactly." They smiled at each other. I might as well have been invisible. Sebastian glanced at me, almost apologetic. "Sorry—this is all technical jargon. Seraphina and I talk shop constantly. Occupational hazard." He said it kindly. Like he was trying to include me. But it only made the gap more obvious. I pushed food around my plate, swallowing words I couldn't form. The conversation swirled around me, a current I couldn't enter. After dinner, Sebastian insisted on showing me around Lincoln Center. We walked past rehearsal halls and performance spaces, Sebastian pointing out details I didn't care about. Stagehands whispered as we passed. "Miss Wells and Sebastian Thorne are perfect together. Total power couple." "A piano prodigy and a violin genius? They're like something out of a movie." "Who's the guy in the old jacket? He looks so out of place." I heard every word. That night, I bought a one-way ticket back to Montana.
Watch? https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/202606197AGBGp7tv4 ? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "Novelix" app ? search for "ni905569", and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix