Sign Here for Vengeance

Chapter 42.5: He Used to Be Good

OLIVIA

-13 YEARS AGO-

"Don't show your face, you got that. We want you to stay put in this library until they leave." That was all mother had to say before she slammed the door in my face.

I sighed, reeling in the loneliness of the small study. It has never been used for years and thus not even cleaned. My only companions were the dusty books, the invisible spiders on the light cobwebs and the white sheets draped over old furniture. At least the light was still bright without lightbulb maintenance. I should've gone up to my room while I had the chance. Now, they caught me in the kitchen and forced me to stay here.

The Harrison group was visiting, one of the biggest corporates there is, and my parents wanted to look good, which meant they had to get me out of the way. Their uneducated and ill-mannered daughter. They could have everything they want but couldn't spare any money to let me attend a decent school.

"At least Mr. Thornton had a heart." He was Reagan's accountant. He would stash some budget to hire me private tutors behind my parents' back. Couple that with a few online courses, and I'm pretty much a valedictorian. I don't have failing grades, but I don't have the official diploma to prove that.

I grabbed an untitled book- it probably had one but the leather was worn out- then I plopped down on what I thought was a really high couch. But then I heard something as I rested my elbow on the slab. I stood up, removing the white sheet that covered the structure. I closed my eyes and coughed as the dust invaded the air. As soon as it dispersed, I saw what I had stumbled upon. A grand piano. An old, yet still beautiful black grand piano.

"Aw, sweet." Finally, something interesting to do. Using the edge of the white sheet, I wiped the dirt of the seat and the keys. I played do-re-mi to test it out. It still had a good sound quality. I learned the piano two years ago from Mr. Carter, our kindest gardener. He used to be in a jazz band.

I stretched out my fingers and I played one of my favorites, the titanic theme song by Celine Dion. I only lightly pressed on the keys so that it won't be heard. I used the same volume when I started singing.

"Every night in my dreams... I see you... I feel you..." Then I just hummed because I forgot the rest. But yeah, I still got it.

I played until the chorus before I heard footsteps behind me. I stopped in my tune and turned around.

"You play well. You don't happen to know something classic, do you?" It was an unfamiliar boy. Tall, fair-skinned, light brown locks, about my age. And he was... quite handsome. Okay, really handsome.

"I know the Dracula theme song." I answered, but then I remembered he was a total stranger, "I'm sorry... who are you, what are you doing here and how long have you been standing there?"

But he only smirked, "That's a lot of questions. I could ask the same thing about you. I wasn't told the Reagans have a princess locked in their tower."

I bit my lip and tried not to blush at the princess thing. Who is this guy? Is he a family of one of our house maids? I wanted to keep it a secret... that I was a Reagan. My parents have never introduced me as their child, but for once, I want to be seen. It's just this one person anyway. He doesn't look important. Just like someone off the streets... of New York. He wears that sweater quite well. But he must just be a family of one our staff.

"How did you know I'm a Reagan?"

His eyes widened for a moment in surprise. Perhaps he just took a guess, "So... you really are their daughter?"