Lianne searched frantically through her bag and all over the house, but came up empty-handed.
She frowned and ran a hand through her hair.
'How could it be gone?'
'Where on earth did it fall off?'
The bracelet was the only gift her mother had left her, the only proof that she had ever truly existed.
Her mother was gone, and now even the last trace of her had vanished.
A bitter feeling suddenly washed over her, and a lump formed in her throat.
Lianne flopped onto the sofa, dejected. An indescribable sadness weighed on her heart. After a long while, she slowly took out her phone and sent a message to Sophie Sheridan.
Lianne: "Good thing you're smart. Otherwise it would've been a 404 + 404 situation."
Sophie replied almost instantly: "You mean two 'brain not found' errors together leads to a total system crash? Hahahaha.jpg"
Sophie: "As expected of a top math student! Making nerdy jokes is as easy as breathing for you. proud.jpg"
Lianne rested her chin on a soft, embroidered tiger pillow. The tassels along its edge brushed against her arm, making it a little itchy, but she paid it no mind.
Sophie asked how her day was, and Lianne replied glumly, "I lost my bracelet."
She followed up with an exaggerated "tearing my hair out" sticker.
Sophie: "What! How could you lose it? Did you leave it at the orchestra hall?"
Lianne: "No, I was still wearing it when I left."
Sophie: "Don't worry too much. I'll help you look for it tomorrow. We'll definitely find it!"
Lianne rolled over. "No, it's okay. It might have fallen off in the car. I'll ask Assistant Hollis."
'She had worn that bracelet since she was a little girl. If Assistant Hollis had seen it, he would have contacted her by now.'
Lianne only said that because she didn't want Sophie to make a trip for nothing.
'The chances of finding a lost item were almost zero.'
But no matter how rational she tried to be, she was still upset. Lianne barely slept that night and woke up with dark circles that were plain to see.
She quickly covered them with some makeup. While eating breakfast, she sent a message to Assistant Hollis anyway, asking if he'd seen her bracelet. His answer was just as she'd expected: he hadn't.
Lianne asked Assistant Hollis to keep an eye out for it and not to mention it to Mr. Sinclair. She didn't want to bother him.
That morning, while Lianne was at home looking up journals on her computer, she received a call from an unknown number. A woman's voice on the other end said, "Mr. Sinclair asked me to deliver a car. Miss Lane, is now a good time for you to come down?"
Lianne said it was. She took the elevator straight down to the underground parking garage. The person waiting for her was a young woman in sharp business attire. All the paperwork and procedures had already been taken care of; all Lianne had to do was inspect the new car. If she wasn't satisfied, they would replace it.
Lianne gave the car a quick look-over and told the young woman it was fine.
Lianne was well aware of her own driving skills; she wouldn't be driving anytime soon.
And so, on its very first day of ownership, the car sat in the parking garage, collecting dust.
Rehearsal for the Silverport Orchestra began in the afternoon and lasted until six in the evening.
After practice ended, Lianne tuned her cello's strings to ensure they were accurate, then put it away and prepared to leave.
While waiting for the elevator, Lianne was idly scrolling through her messaging apps when someone walked up beside her and asked, "How's your hand?"
Lianne glanced to the side. It was Steven Hawthorne. He was wearing glasses and the classic campus heartthrob outfit: a white shirt and black pants.
"It's fine now," she said.
The elevator arrived. There were other people inside, so Lianne put her phone away and stepped in.
When they reached the ground floor, Lianne walked straight out. Steven Hawthorne, a couple of steps behind, hurried to catch up.
"Did you have a falling out with Nina and the others?"
Lianne gave him a look. "That's a question you'd be better off asking them."
Steven Hawthorne said, "I heard the director is increasing next month's budget. With winter coming, he plans to give everyone a few more perks."
The Silverport Orchestra was founded by Lianne's sponsor. The orchestra's entire budget depended on that big shot from the Imperia Circle, so she would definitely know about any funding increases.
Lianne's tone remained impeccably friendly. "Who'd you hear that from?"
Steven Hawthorne couldn't tell her he'd overheard it, so he dodged the question. "I can't tell you that."
He expected her to press him for more, but she just gave a casual "Oh."
Steven Hawthorne: "???"
He'd been put on a pedestal by netizens after appearing on a variety show, yet he repeatedly met with setbacks when it came to Lianne.
'She wasn't a cellist; she was his Waterloo!'
They parted ways at the intersection. Lianne continued on, but had only taken a couple of steps when a car parked by the roadside suddenly honked, making her jump.
Lianne looked over and saw an all-black Koenigsegg.
The Koenigsegg logo, a ghost emblem, is the same as the one for the Swedish Royal Air Force. She wasn't interested in cars, but she recognized it.
The car window rolled down, and the pale orange glow of a streetlight illuminated the man's sharp, chiseled features.
Lianne stared at him, confused.
'What was Seth Sinclair doing here in the dead of night?'
'Trying to scare people by playing ghost?'
Seeing her standing frozen in place, Seth Sinclair tapped his long, pale fingers on the edge of the window. "Come here."
Lianne glanced around, then calmly stepped forward, stopping just out of his reach.
Lianne bent down slightly to look at the coolly indolent man in the car. "What are you doing here?"
She didn't call him Mr. Sinclair, nor did she call him "Brother."
Seth Sinclair turned his head to look at her, his cool voice faint. "Waiting for someone."
A small smile played on Lianne's lips, her voice as soft and gentle as ever. "What a coincidence. Well, I won't disturb..."
"Not a coincidence," Seth Sinclair said. "I'm looking for you. Get in."
His words registered, every single one, and Lianne froze.
'Looking for her?'
Seth Sinclair watched Lianne for a good while. She didn't move, as if she hadn't heard a thing.
"Did you leave your ears in bed this morning?"
Every syllable he uttered was casual, but the words were clearly meant to mock her, implying she'd left the house without her ears—that she was deaf.
'His tongue was so venomous, he probably wouldn't even need to lift a finger in a military competition. He could just kill his opponents with a few choice words.'
Lianne played back her recent interactions with Seth Sinclair in her mind like a movie, and as far as she could tell, she hadn't done anything to offend him.
'Since he'd already accused her of being hard of hearing, she might as well play the part.'
Lianne said, "Sorry, I didn't quite catch that. Could you say it again?"
At her words, Seth Sinclair couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. He beckoned to her with a finger, gesturing for her to come closer.
Lianne didn't move.
'Any closer would be unsafe.'
'Lianne knew a tiny bit of self-defense, but she also knew her own limits. If it came to a fight, she was 100% sure she couldn't beat him.'
She was the one who claimed she couldn't hear, and she was also the one who refused to move.
"Quite the attitude for a 'Little Junior Sister'."
Seth Sinclair's eyelids lifted slightly. "You want me to personally invite you, is that it?" he said, his tone languid and careless.
Lianne's mind raced. Just as she was about to reply, she suddenly heard him ask, "Did you lose something?"
Surprise flashed in Lianne's clear eyes, and her voice held a faint trace of excitement. "Yes, I did."
After a few seconds of thought, she pulled open the passenger-side door and got in.
'The passenger seat is reserved for the girlfriend—or so the saying goes, but that didn't apply here. Besides, if she dared to treat him like a chauffeur and sit in the back, she'd be dead before she knew what hit her.'
'And she wasn't tired of living just yet.'
The moment Lianne sat down, a clean, crisp, faint scent suddenly enveloped her.
It was a strange scent... not cologne, nor an expensive woody fragrance like sandalwood.
Seth Sinclair sat in the driver's seat, one hand resting loosely on the steering wheel. His wrist was strong, and the raised blue veins winding across his hand were like mountain ranges, creating a fierce sort of beauty.
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, his tone lazy. "What did you lose?"