Chapter 5 - The Piano in the Sunroom
The next morning, the sunroom of the Moretti estate was filled with a sound that had not been heard in three long years.
Music.
Sarah had been cleaning the dust off the massive, white Steinway grand piano that sat in the center of the glass-walled room. Her fingers had accidentally brushed the keys, and before she could stop herself, she had sat down and begun to play.
It was a simple, gentle lullaby her grandmother had taught her—soft, clear notes that drifted through the open French doors and into the garden.
Lily sat on the floor nearby, coloring a picture of Barnaby with a green crayon.
Suddenly, the door to the sunroom opened.
Sarah froze, her hands hovering over the keys as she saw Lucas standing on the threshold. He was dressed in a dark grey suit, his face unreadable.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Moretti!” Sarah cried, instantly standing up and smoothing her apron. “I didn't mean to play. I was just dusting, and the keys… I’ll leave immediately.”
“No,” Lucas said. His voice was thick with emotion. He walked into the room, his eyes fixed on the piano bench where his wife had once sat every morning. “Play it again.”
Sarah hesitated, looking at Lily, who gave her a small nod.
Slowly, Sarah sat back down. Her fingers trembled slightly, but as she pressed the first chord, her muscle memory took over. The soft, sweet melody filled the room once more.
Lucas walked to the window, his back to her, staring out at the garden where his son had once chased fireflies. The music was like a key turning in a lock he had kept rusted shut for three years. It hurt, but it was a clean sort of pain.
When Sarah finished, the last note lingered in the warm air before fading.
“My wife, Isabella, used to play,” Lucas said, not turning around. “Every morning. Daniel would sit on the rug exactly where Lily is sitting now, trying to mimic her hand movements with his toy cars.”
Sarah felt a lump rise in her throat. “I didn't know, Mr. Moretti. I’m so sorry for your loss. I can't imagine…”
“I thought the music had died in this house,” Lucas said, finally turning to face her. He walked over to Lily, kneeling beside her coloring book. He picked up a blue crayon and carefully colored the sky above her rabbit. “But today, I realized it was just waiting for the right hands.”
Lily giggled, pointing to his drawing. “You colored outside the lines, Mr. Lucas.”
“I’ve never been very good at staying inside them,” Lucas smiled, a genuine, rare warmth spreading across his face.
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From the hallway, Victor watched the scene through the glass panes of the sunroom door. His face was a mask of cold fury. The little maid and her brat were turning the tiger into a housecat. If Lucas soft-hearted himself now, the transition of the Moretti assets would be delayed, and the New York captains would begin to question Victor’s ability to take over.
I have to accelerate the timeline, Victor thought, his hand tightening around the silver ring on his pinky finger. They all have to go. Starting with the maid.
