Chapter 1

By the time Anna Mercer was thirteen, the world had decided she was a prodigy.

At her first major solo recital in Zurich, people asked for Rachmaninoff, Liszt, even the brutal encore she had written herself. She played whatever they requested. There was only one piece she refused: a simple lullaby her father had taught her when she was five.

She was afraid that if she played it, some tender part of her might wake up and forgive him.

So when Julian Mercer appeared outside our apartment with a custom concert grand, built by a celebrated craftsman and priced beyond the reach of most families, Anna only looked at the piano and shook her head.

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know that song.”

Julian’s eyes reddened. He reached for her hands as if he could place them on the keys and make the years obey him.

“Annie, you’ve always wanted a piano. I bought this for you. I’ll make it right. Whatever you want, just tell me.”

She drew her hands back.

“I can buy my own piano now. You should take this one to your daughter.”

He flinched as if she had struck him. “You are my only daughter.”

Anna gave him a small, puzzled smile.

“But you said Olivia’s little girl was the one who deserved to be yours. You gave her the piano you promised me.” She glanced at the grand. “It’s all right. Go take care of them. I have Mom.”

Julian had come expecting a reunion. Instead, he stood in the hall while my daughter closed the door between them.

He did not know that we had given him years of chances before we left. He had seen every one of them—and let them pass.