Craving the Man She Calls Uncle

The low-key yet luxurious decor of the private room, combined with the custom piano gifted as a present, made the buyer sign the purchase contract without hesitation.

The price of $400 million, plus $70 million for the old house and the valuable items that had already been sold, left Angela with only a few million to reach the entire sum of $5 hundred million.

Since she was leaving, there was no reason to take any of the old belongings with her. Only the essentials for herself and Nala, along with some cash, were necessary. There were still many expenses ahead. To support herself, she started accepting commercial performances at an overwhelming pace.

For days on end, Oliver hadn't returned to the house. Angela busied herself, circulating between various orchestra banquets and events, trying to avoid him as much as possible. She thought that by staying out of his way, everything would remain calm and uneventful.

But fate had other plans. At the last shift at the private club, their paths crossed.

When the manager led her into the room, she saw Oliver celebrating Gwen's birthday. Most guests were familiar faces, but no one took the initiative to greet her. Instead, they watched her with ambiguous, almost judgmental expressions.

Angela lowered her gaze, nodded briefly, and went to the piano. She began to play the piece she had been instructed to perform. Around her, people were drinking, laughing, and chatting, their voices rising in a cacophony of merriment.

"Isn’t that the top-quality Steinway & Sons's grand piano sold for $20 million at last week’s auction?" one voice murmured. "Turns out Oliver bought it for his future wife!"

"Thank you, Oliver." Gwen's playful voice rang out as she lightly resisted his affectionate teasing. The room erupted with cheers.

"Kiss her! Kiss her!" someone shouted from the crowd.

The callousness of it all stung, but Angela quickly reminded herself that the noise was for them, not her. She only needed to focus on the piano and keep playing as she had been taught.

It wasn't until a hand pressed down on her piano keys, disrupting her playing, that Angela realized someone had come up behind her. She looked up to find Oliver standing there, his gaze cold and sharp, his scent of sandalwood unmistakable.

"Not going to move?" he asked, his voice low and commanding.