Mafia Lord's Mute Sweetheart

Chapter 49: Chapter 49 Job hunting

A beautiful lady played piano in a sunlit golden room.

The light poured through tall windows, warm and soft, catching the dust motes floating in the air like tiny stars dancing in slow motion. The walls were cream colored, decorated with paintings of flowers and peaceful landscapes, their frames ornate and gold. A vase of fresh tulips sat on top of the piano, pink, white and red, their petals still wet from watering, droplets of water clinging to the edges.

The lady’s fingers moved across the keys gracefully, her touch light and sure. Her melody was cheerful and bright, the kind of music that made you want to close your eyes and smile, the kind that made your heart feel lighter just by listening. It danced through the room like sunlight on water, rippling and sparkling, filling every corner with warmth.

Her eyes were closed. Her eyelashes were long and dark, casting small shadows on her cheeks. Her caramel hair fell behind her in soft waves, past her shoulders, almost to her waist, catching the light like silk. She wore a simple white dress, the fabric light and flowing, moving slightly with the sway of her body as she played.

A man stood near the window, watching her, his eyes following the movement of her fingers on the keys, his arms crossed over his chest. His face was in shadow, the light from the window behind him hiding his features.

The lady finished the piece. Her fingers lifted from the keys, hovering for a moment before falling to her lap. The last note hung in the air for a moment, then faded into silence.

She opened her eyes.

They were dark black and beautiful.

"Did you like it?" she asked.

Her voice floated through the room like mist over water, soft and clear and impossibly beautiful, the kind of voice that made the air itself seem sweeter. Each word came out like a note from an instrument, perfectly pitched, perfectly timed. It was ethereal, otherworldly, the kind of voice that made people stop mid-sentence just to hear it, that made strangers turn their heads in crowded rooms.

The man uncrossed his arms. "It was well played."

She tilted her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "That is not what I asked. I asked if you liked it."

"The playing was skilled. The melody was pleasant."

She laughed softly. "You are avoiding the question."

"I am answering it honestly. I do not have strong feelings about music."

The lady laughed again, a gentle sound, warm and soft like wind brushing through leaves on a summer afternoon. "You have no strong feelings about anything."

He shrugged. "That is not true. I have strong feelings about silence."

"Silence?"

"Silence is peaceful. Music disturbs the silence."

She looked at him for a long moment, her dark eyes studying his shadowed face. Then she turned back to the piano. "Then I will play something sad. Sad music is closer to silence than cheerful music."

She placed her fingers back on the keys.

And everything changed.

The cheerful notes faded into something slower, heavier, and sadder, like rain falling on a windowpane, like footsteps walking away from someone who was not ready to be left behind. The melody shifted, dropping lower, darker, pulling the light out of the room.

The lady’s eyes closed again. Her caramel hair swayed as she leaned into the music, her body moving with the weight of it.

Then the scene cracked.

The golden room flickered, the light stuttering like a dying candle. The warm glow dimmed, then brightened, then dimmed again. The tulips wilted, their petals turning brown and falling to the floor in slow motion, one by one, landing on the polished wood. The paintings on the walls faded, the colors bleeding together until they were nothing but shadows of what they had been.

The piano was still there, but now it was old and dusty, the wood scratched and stained, the keys yellowed with age. Cobwebs stretched across the corners and the air smelled of decay.

Bloody fingers were playing.

Red dripped onto the white keys, staining them, running down between the cracks. The nails were broken, jagged, torn. The knuckles were bruised, purple and swollen. The hands shook with each note, trembling, barely able to press the keys.

The melody was dark now. Moody. Each note fell like a drop of blood into still water like a scream that never reached the surface. The music crawled through the air, slow and painful, full of sorrow and fear and something desperate, something lost.

The lady’s eyes were open, but they were not dark and beautiful anymore.

They were empty.

❀┈┈┈┈❀

Daisy woke up sweating.

Her heart pounded against her ribs, a wild, frantic rhythm. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, like she had been running, like she could not get enough air. Her hands gripped the blanket so tightly her knuckles were white, the fabric twisted around her fingers.

She looked at her fingers. They were clean. There was no blood, no bruises and no broken nails.

She let out a shaky breath.

The dream was already fading from her memory, slipping away like water through her fingers, but the voice remained. The lady’s voice. That ethereal, impossible voice that had floated through the room like mist over water.

Daisy touched her own throat.

Nothing came out.

She pressed harder, her fingers digging into the soft skin. Nothing. Just the hollow silence that had lived there for years.

She sat on the edge of her bed, her bare feet cold on the floor, her hands trembling in her lap. The morning light was creeping through the gap in the curtains, pale and weak, barely illuminating the room.

She needed to apologize to Alessio. She had left without telling him. But she did not know how to reach him. Maybe she should ask Grandpa James. Grandpa James would know.

But today, she had something more important to do.

Job hunting.

She stood up, her legs shaky, and walked to her old suitcase. It was pushed in the corner of her room, behind her wardrobe, covered in a thick layer of dust. She had not opened it in years, had not wanted to look inside, had not wanted to remember.

She dragged it across the floor, the wheels squeaking and unzipped it.