Elena's POV
The piano keys were cold beneath my fingers, but I didn't care. This was the only time I felt free—when the music filled the darkness that had become my entire world.
My hands moved faster, the melody growing wilder. I was playing the song Mama taught me before everything fell apart. Before the crash. Before the blindness. Before I became the girl who lived in a tiny cottage that smelled like old wood and broken dreams.
"Elena."
I froze. The voice cut through my music like a knife.
Owen.
Something was wrong. I could hear it in the way he said my name—too soft, too careful, like he was afraid I might break. In five years, Owen had never sounded like this.
"I didn't hear you come in," I said, turning toward where his voice came from. My hands slipped off the keys.
"I knocked. You were playing so loud." His footsteps came closer. "We need to talk."
My heart jumped. Those four words—we need to talk—they could mean anything. But the way Owen's voice shook slightly, the way I could hear him breathing faster than normal, made me wonder if maybe, just maybe, this was the moment I'd been waiting for.
Was he finally going to propose?
"What's wrong?" I asked, trying to sound calm even though my hands were shaking.
"Nothing's wrong. Actually, something's very right." Owen sat beside me on the piano bench. I felt the wood shift under his weight. "I've been planning something special. A surprise."
"A surprise?"
"A weekend getaway. Just you and me. At the Crown Towers Hotel downtown."
I gasped. The Crown Towers? That was the fanciest hotel in the entire city. Owen worked at his mother's cleaning company—we never had money for things like that.
"Owen, we can't afford—"
"Don't worry about money," he said quickly. Too quickly. "I've been saving up. You deserve something nice, Elena. After everything you've been through."
His hand found mine, and I wanted to believe the warmth I felt was love. For five years, Owen had been my only friend. The only person who stayed after the accident that took everything from me.
The accident.
The memory hit me like it always did—sudden and violent. I was eighteen, sitting in the backseat of our car. Papa was driving. Mama was laughing at something he said. Then the world exploded into screaming metal and breaking glass.
When I woke up in the hospital, Mama and Papa were gone. And I couldn't see anymore. Couldn't see anything. Just darkness. Forever darkness.
Mrs. Harris, our old housekeeper, found me at the hospital. She said I had no one left, nowhere to go. She took me to the servants' cottage behind our old house and told me I could stay there. She and Owen would take care of me.
I thought they were being kind.
Now, five years later, Owen was planning romantic getaways to expensive hotels. My chest felt warm. Maybe he really did love me. Maybe I wasn't just the blind girl he felt sorry for.
"When do we leave?" I asked.
"Tomorrow night." Owen squeezed my hand. "I'll pick you up at six. Pack light—just overnight things."
"I can't believe you did this." I smiled, turning my face toward him even though I couldn't see him. "Thank you."
"You don't need to thank me." His voice sounded strange again—tight, like he was holding something back. "I'd do anything for you, Elena. You know that, right?"
"I know."
But did I? Lately, I'd been noticing things. Small things. The way Owen's voice changed when his mother was in the room—colder, more distant. The way he sometimes sighed when he thought I couldn't hear. The way he'd pull his hand away from mine a second too fast.
Stop it, I told myself. You're being paranoid. Owen loves you. He's been here for five years. He's all you have.
"I should let you get back to your music," Owen said, standing up. The bench shifted again. "I just wanted to tell you about the trip. Get excited, okay? This weekend is going to change everything."
Change everything. Those words made my stomach flip.
"Owen, wait." I stood up too, reaching out until my hand found his arm. "Is this... are you going to...?"
"Going to what?" He sounded confused. Or was he pretending to be confused?
I couldn't ask. If I was wrong, I'd look desperate and stupid. So I just smiled. "Never mind. I'm just excited."
"Me too." He kissed my forehead—quick and light. "See you tomorrow, Elena."
His footsteps walked away. The cottage door opened and closed.
I was alone again.
I sat back down at the piano, but I didn't play. Something felt wrong. Owen had been nervous—really nervous. And that weird tightness in his voice, like he was forcing himself to sound happy.
Maybe I was imagining it. Maybe I was so desperate for someone to love me that I was creating problems that didn't exist.
I lifted my hands to the keys and started playing again. But this time, the song felt different. Sadder. Like it was trying to warn me about something I couldn't see.
My fingers hit a wrong note, and I stopped.
That's when I heard it.
A sound outside. Footsteps crunching on the gravel path. But not Owen's footsteps—these were heavier. Multiple people.
Then voices. Low and angry.
"...better be worth it, Harris. Boss doesn't like waiting."
"She's perfect, I swear. Beautiful, young, and completely helpless. She won't cause any trouble."
That was Owen's voice. Owen was talking to someone right outside my cottage.
My blood turned to ice.
"And she's really blind? You're not lying?"
"Completely blind. Been that way for five years. She can't identify anyone, can't escape, can't fight back. She's exactly what Cross wanted."
Cross? Who was Cross?
"Boss better clear my debt for this," Owen continued. "Delivering her is worth more than what I owe."
Delivering her.
Delivering me.
My hands flew to my mouth to stop the scream trying to escape.
Owen wasn't planning a romantic getaway.
Owen was selling me.