The Ex-Wife's Burning Elegance

Chapter 512

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.

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

expected it to be this

knowing Stella also played violin, but she'd never actually heard her perform. Somewhere along the way, Aurora

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

young man with sharp features wandered aimlessly, bored and in search

woman who kept getting the upper hand over Rachel-what kind

performance by a man, a woman, and a child. It was all rather

him some expertise. He could tell the

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

feeling he'd had the very first time he heard that music-no one had ever managed to bring

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,

couldn't help but

the years, he'd searched for someone who could recapture that elusive feeling in their music,

though, as

his attention. There was something in the melody a certain quality, a faint echo of that long-ago evening

tone