The Ex-Wife's Burning Elegance

After all, all these years she'd been left to fend for herself, never once enjoying even the slightest advantage of the Williams family name.

Back when the incident with Sherman happened, if Stella had just admitted to it on the spot, he might have thought she was bold enough to face the consequences—he would have respected that, maybe even admired her. Who knows, he might have even let her off the hook.

But she'd done it and then refused to own up, and that single act had left him profoundly disappointed.

Other than her face, she hadn't inherited an ounce of her mother's brilliance.

After Stella left the Williams estate, he found himself wondering if, perhaps, he'd held her to too high a standard.

She wasn't like her mother, after all. She hadn't grown up surrounded by privilege, nor received the finest education money could buy.

He already had a remarkable daughter; there was no need to expect Stella to match her mother's excellence.

But now, watching the girl on stage, he saw-just for a moment-a flicker of Nora's spirit in her.

Maybe... she wasn't as disappointing as he'd always imagined.

Seated nearby, Aurora's easy smile hadn't faded—at least, not until the music started. As the violin's melody filled the hall, the smile slipped from her lips, replaced by a look of genuine surprise.

Stella's violin playing—she hadn't expected it to be this good.

Aurora recalled knowing Stella also played violin, but she'd never actually heard her perform. Somewhere along the way, Aurora had convinced herself Stella simply wasn't particularly skilled-certainly not on her level.

But as she listened, she realized she'd been wrong. Stella's technique was exceptional. In fact... it was every bit as good as her own.

Out in the corridor, a slender young man with sharp features wandered aimlessly, bored and in search of fresh air.

He'd come here tonight for one reason: to meet Stella. He wanted to see for himself what was so special about the woman who kept getting the upper hand over Rachel-what kind of charm she possessed that could coax the notoriously eccentric, long-retired Mr. Burton out of seclusion just for her sake.

Yet after all this waiting, all he'd seen was a performance by a man, a woman, and a child. It was all rather dull.

He was, in fact, a fan of the violin himself-years of practice had given him some expertise. He could tell the man's playing was respectable, but the choice of music just wasn't to his taste.

For years, there had been only one piece he truly loved: the Moonlight Sonata, the way Rachel would play it out in the garden. He'd listened to her rendition over and over, never growing tired of it.

Yet, the feeling he'd had the very first time he heard that music-no one had ever managed to bring it back. Not even Rachel herself.

She'd told him that kind of transcendent inspiration was rare-something you might encounter once in a lifetime, if you were lucky. She couldn't recreate that moment, no matter how hard she tried.

He understood. Still, he couldn't help but feel disappointed.

Over the years, he'd searched for someone who could recapture that elusive feeling in their music, but he'd never found it.

Tonight, though, as music drifted

from the hall, something about the violin's song caught his attention. There was something in the melody a certain quality, a faint echo of that long-ago evening in the

garden. The tone was a little

different, but the feeling was unmistakable.

Without realizing it, he stopped in his tracks.

He stood in the shifting light, his

handsome features thrown into

dark eyes were as clearnoveldrama

relief. His da

and luminous as polished onyx, shining with intelligence and depth. Long lashes cast delicate shadows across his cheeks, softening the sharpness of his gaze.

He was strikingly handsome, with a youthful energy that was impossible to ignore.