Chapter 3: The Shattered Movement

My phone screen lit up—an encrypted message from Elliott: "Plan confirmed. 8 PM tonight. Old Pier. Kayla, take care."

Take care. The word felt so light. I turned off the phone, tossed it into a drawer, my movements mechanical. I counted cash, packed a few simple, unmarked clothes. The words from the diary and the cold feel of the bead bracelet replayed in my mind like a broken record.

My heart felt empty, then filled with ice shards, cold and hard, not feeling pain, just a heavy sinking sensation.

My gaze fell on the gilt-edged charity concert invitation on the dresser. Hosted by Adrien's foundation. "Mrs. Black" had to attend. "Artistic Advisor" Olivia would naturally be in the spotlight.

Ironic. On the eve of my planned disappearance, I had to dress up and perform one last act of marital bliss.

Night fell. The concert hall blazed with light. My wine-red satin dress felt like a cold suit of armor. I held Adrien's arm, accepting glances from all directions. He leaned in, his breath brushing my ear.

"Darling, you look breathtakingly beautiful today," he whispered, his voice deceptively tender enough to drown in.

My stomach convulsed. I forced a smile, my eyes vacant, staring ahead, afraid to look at him.

In my peripheral vision, Olivia sat further back, chatting and laughing with a music critic. Her silver-gray mermaid gown made her look like a shimmering siren. Sensing my gaze, she turned and gave me a flawless smile, tinged with a subtle sense of superiority, and a slight nod.

The lights dimmed. The host announced theatrically: "Ladies and gentlemen, a special surprise tonight! A tremendously gifted young musician will publicly perform her original piano composition for the first time—‘Moonlight Murmurs'! Please welcome—Miss Olivia Hart!"

Applause erupted. I froze. A rising musician? Olivia? Original?

The first notes flowed from the Steinway—gentle, ethereal, carrying a moonlit sorrow and longing.

My blood instantly froze solid—the melody, the unique chord progressions, the suppressed intensity, every single note was etched into my very soul.

It was my composition for Adrien!

I whipped my head around, staring daggers at Adrien. He was watching the stage intently, a smile on his lips, his eyes holding a look I had never seen before—unconcealed admiration, pride, even—rapture.

On stage, Olivia's fingers moved with "elegant" flourishes over the keys, her body swaying affectedly. She was playing my piece, and my husband was gazing at that thief with the look I had craved for five years and never received!

Icy rage mixed with the agony of having my heart gouged out instantly shattered my numbness! The ice shards in my stomach melted into magma, scorching my insides!

The intermission bell rang. The crowd surged toward the lounge.

I violently shook off Adrien's arm, the force making him stumble. He looked at me, startled. I ignored him, striding over to Olivia, who had just left the stage and was surrounded by a few people.

"That piece…" My voice was tight with shock and anger. "‘Moonlight Murmurs'… Why is it in your hands? Why are you playing it?!" I stared her down. "I wrote that! My piece! You stole it!"

The air around us instantly froze. Those preparing to compliment her stopped, looking over in surprise.

Adrien, his face grim, followed me and immediately stepped forward, his tall frame imposing itself between Olivia and me.

He gripped my wrist hard, his strength nearly crushing the bones, his voice a low, urgent command: "Kayla! Calm down! Don't make a scene here!" His eyes were cold and sharp. "Mind the occasion! Look at yourself!"

Olivia acted terrified, shrinking back slightly, her eyes instantly welling up, her voice trembling with grievance: "Kayla… how can you say that? This piece is truly my own heart's blood." She looked pleadingly at Adrien, then at the others. "I know you've always loved music, but… you can't always be like this… This isn't the first time…" Her words trailed off cleverly, leaving ample room for imagination.

"Not the first time"!

The phrase was like a poison-tipped needle, precisely piercing every eavesdropper's ear! What was she implying? That I had a "habit" of stealing her work?! The surrounding whispers instantly grew louder. "Oh my god… what did she say? Not the first time?" "Poor Miss Hart!" "Never judge a book by its cover."

Adrien's face darkened further. Hearing the gossip, seeing Olivia's pitiful appearance, his expression was complex, but was quickly replaced by a determination to maintain the status quo.

He took a deep breath, his grip tightening, trying to pull me away, his voice dropping lower, threatening and impatient: "Kayla! Stop this absurd behavior! Look how you've frightened Olivia, she's so pure and kind-hearted, how can you slander her?! Apologize to her! Now! Say you were impulsive, that you liked the piece so much you were mistaken!" His tone brooked no argument.

I looked at his hypocritical face, at his eyes that knew the truth yet defended another woman. A sense of immense absurdity and humiliation flooded me like ice water.

"Mistaken?" My voice was dry and broken. "Adrien, you tell me, was it a mistake?"

My voice suddenly rose, sharp enough to pierce the chatter, the resentment pent up for five years completely bursting its banks. "Adrien Black! You stole my piece to please your mistress?!"

I was beyond caring, my finger almost pointing in her face. "When you were rolling in the sheets with her, were you also thinking about how to steal my心血 (heart's blood)?! Using my marriage as a cover wasn't enough, you had to take my last keepsake too?! You both make me sick!"

Smack—!

A crisp, sharp slap rang out like a thunderclap!

My head snapped to the side, sharp pain exploding on my left cheek, my ears ringing, stars dancing before my eyes. Warm liquid trickled from the corner of my mouth. The taste of iron.

Blood.

Adrien stood before me, chest heaving, his striking hand still slightly trembling in the air. A flash of panic crossed his face, quickly replaced by fury.

"You!" He pointed a finger at my nose, his voice distorted with rage into a hoarse shout. "You unreasonable lunatic! Spouting such filth! Do you have any idea what you're spewing?! This is slander! Libel! Apologize to Olivia! Now! Immediately!"

The surrounding gazes felt like poison-tipped ice needles, densely pricking me. Contempt, shock, schadenfreude. Those society women who usually flattered me now looked at me as if I were dirty garbage.

Olivia let out a small, frightened gasp, quickly hiding behind Adrien, covering her mouth, eyes wide, playing the perfect victim. But I saw clearly the unconcealed, triumphant, malicious smirk she threw me from behind Adrien's arm. She silently mouthed, "You lose."

Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably, my clothes disheveled, my face contorted—I looked like a madwoman. I suddenly laughed.

Adrien, seeing this, drew a breath, suppressing his viciousness, his voice softening but icy, full of command and panic: "Kayla, you've disappointed me so much! Look what you've reduced yourself to! Behave!"

He reached out to pull me, attempting a comforting gesture. "Stop this nonsense! Apologize to Olivia! Say you were emotional, mistaken! Apologize, and we'll go home immediately! I promise, let's end this here, don't make it worse for any of us! Understand?!"

The calculation in his eyes, his intent to cover up the truth, felt like an ice pick shattering my last illusion.

I violently shook off his hand. "Apologize?" My voice was terrifyingly calm. "For her stealing my piece? Or for you slapping me?" I shook my head slowly. "I won't apologize. Never."

With that, I turned around, straightened my back, and ignoring the sharp pain in my cheek and the blood, walked step by step, steadily, through the parting crowd. My dress trailed behind me like a bloodstain.

Everything behind me had completely collapsed, turned to ashes. The night wind outside the door slapped my face like a hand, only making me more clear-headed. In my heart, only one thought burned clearly.

8 PM. Old Pier.

Never look back.