Chapter 259:

🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙

Carrie paused and turned to Kristopher with a slight raise of her eyebrow. “Aren’t you leaving?”

“Where would I go?” Kristopher replied, pulling off the dust cover from the sofa.

There was a soft click as Oliver gently shut the door behind him.

The apartment was modest—much smaller than the master bedroom at Bayview Villa. Kristopher’s broad shoulders seemed to crowd the narrow space.

Carrie moved deftly across the room, tugging at the dust covers draped over the furniture. Each piece she uncovered seemed to bring up a memory, remnants of her childhood preserved in neat, orderly arrangements.

“Sit down,” she said, tossing a dust cover aside. She grabbed a bottle of water from the items Oliver had brought and held it out to him. “Drink this.”

Carrie glanced at Kristopher. “Don’t get in my way. Tonight, you sleep in my room, and I’ll take Grandma’s room.”

He said nothing, simply settling onto the sofa with the bottle unopened in his hand.

The apartment faced south, catching the sunlight—warm in the winter and cool in the summer, comfortable even without air conditioning.

As Carrie continued cleaning, Kristopher opened his laptop. His fingers hovered idly over the keys, his attention drifting toward her.

She had tied her hair up in a loose knot, exposing the graceful curve of her neck. Her movements were fluid and purposeful, her posture upright and composed, as if she were performing even in such a mundane task.

He watched her, wondering if the same grace had once filled Bayview Villa when she took charge of the house.

Your story hub is gⱯlnσν𝓮ℓs․𝓬𝓸𝓂

Eventually, Carrie uncovered the last piece of furniture: an upright piano. Its glossy black finish reflected the sunlight, understated in design but unmistakable in presence.

Kristopher leaned forward, his sharp gaze catching the embossed gold “M” near the logo—a bespoke Steinway from the Morrison family’s collection, its value far exceeding the grand piano at Norris Mansion.

The most striking feature was the gold-embossed “M” next to the piano’s logo, the exclusive mark of the Morrison family in Isonridge.

“That’s my grandfather’s piano,” Carrie said, her voice pulling him from his thoughts.

She traced a finger along its polished surface, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “I heard it’s very expensive. A gift from someone who admired him.”

She paused, her expression softening as memories surfaced. “When I was little, I spilled a drink on it. Grandma punished me—the only time she ever did. She was so angry, I thought she might never forgive me.”

Kristopher’s brow furrowed slightly. The Morrison family was known for lavishing gifts on talented individuals in the arts.

Yet, if her grandfather had such connections, how could they have stood by while Tristan mistreated Danna? He pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on her face.

She was flushed, likely from the exertion of cleaning. Her cheeks glowed softly in the warm light, stirring something within him. A dryness settled in his throat, and he took a sip from the bottle.

Before he could think better of it, Kristopher rose and crossed the room. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him.

The sudden movement startled Carrie. Her hand shot out, landing on the piano keys, producing a jarring, discordant note. She stiffened, her breath quickening as she turned her face away. “Stop it,” she said, her voice shaky.

.

.

.