Chapter 4: Like the Moon Over Water
The night skies over Florence shimmered like liquid velvet.
The Bellavita Conservatory was alive with whispers and light. Crystal chandeliers cast warm reflections on polished floors, and candlelit floral arrangements graced every marble table. Tonight was the Annual Spring Gala — an event where patrons of the arts gathered to witness performances from the most gifted students across Europe.
Among them stood Elia William, dressed in a midnight blue gown that floated like starlight around her slender frame. Her long black hair was woven into a braid entwined with silver threads. The locket she always wore — the red velvet one with a firefly engraving — glowed softly against her chest.
She was the final performance of the night.
Hidden in the crowd was a tall man, standing at the back with a black scarf masking the lower half of his face.
Lucas Lu had arrived.
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A Long-Awaited Note
He had not expected her to be this beautiful.
So grown… so composed. But the way she bowed before the piano — hands trembling slightly, lips pressed in concentration — he recognized it instantly.
It was her.
The girl who once stood in muddy shoes outside the Lu Residence gate. The girl who used to braid his little sister's hair when she cried. The girl who waited on her birthday night… and was never picked up.
Lucas's breath caught.
He hadn't even known her real name.
Not until Charles William whispered it to him with an edge of warning — "Her name is Elia now. You don't get to ruin her again."
But he had to see her. Even if from a distance.
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The Keys That Spoke
Elia sat before the grand Steinway. Silence cloaked the hall like snow.
Then, she played.
It began with a slow, sorrowful melody — haunting and delicate. Notes fell like rain over forgotten memories, bleeding into one another like the tears she never cried in public.
Then it shifted.
Her hands moved faster. Passion bloomed. Anguish turned into power. Grace turned into storm.
She was telling a story — her story — in music.
Lucas's chest ached.
That melody… he had heard it before. Once, beneath the ginkgo tree at Lu Manor, when she hummed to herself while tying a ribbon on his sister's wrist.
It was her lullaby.
His eyes stung.
When she ended the piece with a soft, lingering chord, the audience stood in ovation.
But Elia didn't look at them.
Her eyes scanned the room — and for a heartbeat, they landed on him.
The man at the back, hidden in the shadows.
Her heart skipped.
But she quickly looked away.
It couldn't be.
---
Elsewhere, in Beijing
Back in Beijing, trouble was stirring.
Anya stood before a full-length mirror, trying on a pale pink dress — the one she had worn years ago when Lucas attended her mother's birthday banquet. She had been thirteen then — awkward, skinny, nothing more than Elena's pale reflection.
But now… she was grown. And hungry.
Lucas was in Florence. She had seen the tracker ping on her brother's hacked server.
"Elena William… you're alive," Anya hissed.
"I knew it."
Her fingers curled into fists. Her mind already played out the drama — if Elena returned, what would happen to the fragile balance she had built? The sympathy she had manipulated from Mr. Lu? The fame and admiration she'd carved in Elena's absence?
She wasn't going to let that girl take anything back.
Not Lucas.
Not even her name.
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In the Wings
Back in Florence, after the performance, Elia stepped into the moonlit garden behind the Conservatory. She thought she saw something — a tall silhouette under the cherry blossom tree.
But when she turned to look, no one was there.
Still, her heart beat strangely.
Had the past finally found her?
And if so… was she ready to face it?