Chapter 13 - A Song Without Secrets
That afternoon, a special delivery arrived at Villa Vance from a master
woodcrafter in Florence.
Cassian called Mia and me into his private study.
Sitting on the center of his mahogany desk was a brand-new, hand-carved music
box made from polished Italian olive wood.
Its surface was intricately inlaid with mother-of-pearl, depicting two swallows
soaring together across a sunlit sea.
“Open it, Mia,” Cassian said gently, gesturing toward the desk.
Mia walked forward with confident, steady steps, her titanium cane tucked neatly
under her arm, her right eye taking in every detail of the sunlit room.
She reached out and lifted the mother-of-pearl latch.
The lid smoothly swung open.
Inside, there were no secret compartments. No false seams. No military
transmitters or hidden wires.
Only the gleaming, polished brass cylinders and tiny steel combs of an
authentic, exquisite musical movement.
The mechanism began to turn with a soft, buttery whir.
A clear, sweet, breathtaking melody filled the study—a classical Italian lullaby
that Isabella had sung to Mia when she was a baby.
Mia’s hand rested on the polished wood, her eyes shining with tears of absolute,
pure closure.
“It sounds just like Mama,” Mia whispered, her voice filled with peace. “Without
the cold.”
Cassian walked over to the desk, resting his broad hand over Mia’s head, leaning
down to kiss the crown of her hair.
“The cold is gone forever, sweetheart,” Cassian promised softly.
He looked across the desk at me.
May you like
His dark eyes were filled with an ancient, unshakeable question that had been
waiting for the music to end.
