The Heir's Ruthless Obsession

tte's Orphanage always bega

f the old church grounds like a gentle reminder that eve

ors and thin porridge. To me, they were the heartbeat of

ays did. My internal clock was set

dawn light leaking through a cracked stained

tiny hand clutching the wooden toy horse I'd car

nds of dreams orphans weren't supposed to have, big ones, wild

beneath my feet, this building was too old to harbor

nd tied my hair back. The long red strands glimmered even in t

ildren said I looked like the ancient paintings in the

that said I don't belong. Who am I? The questi

been wrapped in a silk blanket so fine the nuns had tried to sell it to pay for the ro

heavy oak doors, the reason they never looked bac

elle," Sister Marianne would sigh, her eyes drifti

strange electricity in the air, a pressure in

breath, and I was the on

urtyard until my shoulders burned, folded laundry until my fingers w

garden at the back of the grounds. The autumn air

of tarnished gold on the stone

rom behind a rosebush. He was trailing several of

ed to me. It had been donated anonymously years ago, a beautiful, da

n, I didn't feel like I was learning a skill.

as a cavernous space that smelled of

-lined case, feeling the familiar we

need a conductor. I closed my eyes

filled with a sorrow I didn't have words for. Th

rs moving with a technical precision that shoul

ing off the high rafters and vib

quite see, a flash of a ballroom, the scent of e

I didn't hear the heavy wooden doors at the back of th

nal, haunting note across the string and heard th

looking smaller than usual. Beside her stood a woman wh

immering pearls, her blonde hair twis

all. She didn't look at the architecture or the altar. Her

like velvet over steel. "That was... breathtakin

tight with a nervousness I had never heard before. "This is Madame

e Beaumont added, stepping forward. Her heels clicked agai

rs wrote about the academy for the elite, the heirs to oil fortunes and medical empir

she studied me. She looked at the shape of my jaw, the silver-grey

saw a flicker of something that looked l

kable," she said, her voice trembling slight

ounding small in the vast hall. "I j

e turned to Sister Marianne, speaking in a

t's been twelve years since the disappearance, but t

ady herself against a wooden pew. "She is a gift, M

She turned back to me, her expression softeni

e Beaumont Estate. The most influential families in the country

y ribs. "Me? Madame, I don't have a dress. I don't h

a designer bag and pulled out a heavy, cream-colored envelope s

urity will be provided. Consider this your debu

g near my cheek before she pulled it bac

spered, almost to herself. "And if t

of my violin. Through the open door, I caught the tail end of

was saying. "If she is the lost heiress... if she is Elena... the po

falling over my heart. I didn't know who

envelope, I realized the "strange energy" I

had just been sum

I had just played the fir