Her Violin, His Vengeance

Annabelle Owen, a violin prodigy, found her world in Jack Hyde, a tech billionaire who promised her everything. He shielded her, showered her with gifts, and became her entire universe.

But then, his half-sister, Everly, moved in, and everything changed. Everly, a manipulative whisper in Jack's ear, slowly poisoned their relationship, turning him against Annabelle.

Annabelle, pregnant with their child, discovered Jack's betrayal on their anniversary. He chose Everly, humiliating Annabelle, forcing her to change her dress because it "upset" Everly. He then denied her pregnancy, forced her to donate blood to Everly, and later, in a fit of rage, beat her, causing her to lose their baby.

Jack, blinded by Everly's lies, believed Annabelle had cheated. He tortured and humiliated Annabelle, stripping her of everything he had given her, even her grandfather's violin, which Everly deliberately destroyed. Annabelle, broken and desperate, faked her own death by walking into a fire, hoping to escape the nightmare.

Jack, consumed by grief and rage, was manipulated by Everly into believing Annabelle was a cheating liar. He sought brutal revenge on Everly, but the truth about Annabelle's innocence and Everly's deceit eventually came to light.

Annabelle, meanwhile, had found refuge with her brother, Adan, and entered into a marriage of convenience with Julian Cordova, a war hero in a coma. She nursed him back to health, and they fell deeply in love, building a new life free from Jack's shadow.

When Jack discovered Annabelle was alive and marrying Julian, he crashed the wedding, begging for forgiveness. But Annabelle, hardened by his cruelty, coldly rejected him, choosing her new life and love with Julian, leaving Jack to face the consequences of his actions alone.

Chapter 1

Annabelle Owen was a name whispered with awe in the hushed halls of conservatories. At fourteen, her violin spoke a language older than words. At nineteen, she was a prodigy, her future a brilliant, blinding light.

That light had a name: Jack Hyde.

He saw her play once. He was twenty-four then, already a name in the tech world, a billionaire with an empire built on code and ambition. He sat in the front row, his gaze fixed not on her fingers, but on the soul she poured into the strings. After the final note faded, he found her backstage. He didn't offer praise. He offered her the world.

For five years, he was true to his word. He became her patron, her mentor, her lover. He built his company, Hyde Industries, into a global titan. He was a man of immense power, and he used it to shield her from everything.

He was her hero. If she shivered, a coat would appear on her shoulders. If she looked hungry, a chef was summoned. He moved her into his sprawling mansion, a cold palace of glass and steel that she slowly filled with warmth.

Once, she idly mentioned a rare Guarneri violin she' d only seen in books. A week later, it was in her hands, its case resting on their bed. The price tag was a string of zeroes that made her head spin. He just kissed her forehead and told her nothing was too expensive for his girl.

His study was his sanctuary, a place no one, not even his most trusted executives, could enter without permission. He gave her a key on their first anniversary. "This place is yours, too," he had said, his voice a low rumble. "Everything I have is yours."

He promised to be her rock, her shield. "Just focus on your music, Annabelle," he'd whisper, tracing the curve of her ear. "I'll handle the rest of the world for you."

And she, young and desperately in love, believed him. She let him build a gilded cage around her, and she called it home. She fell, completely and utterly.

But there was a shadow. Jack, for all his devotion, feared marriage. He spoke of his parents' divorce, a nasty public spectacle that had taught him love was a transaction and commitment a trap. He refused to be trapped.

Annabelle tried. On anniversaries, on birthdays, after concerts that left the audience weeping, she would gently bring it up. Each time, he would shut down, his face closing off, the warmth in his eyes turning to frost.

Then, on the fifth anniversary of the day they met, he changed.

"Annabelle," he said over a candlelit dinner on their private balcony overlooking the city.

"Marry me."

The words she had longed to hear for years. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a wild, joyful rhythm. Tears welled in her eyes, and she could only nod, a choked sob of happiness escaping her lips. He slipped a diamond onto her finger, a stone so large it felt like a beautiful weight.

"Yes," she finally managed to breathe. "Yes, Jack."

He smiled, that rare, breathtaking smile that was hers alone. But then, it tightened. "There's just one thing."

Her joy faltered. "What is it?"

"My sister, Everly. My half-sister. She's... having a hard time. She needs a place to stay for a while. I want her to move in with us."

Everly Foley. Annabelle had only heard the name. Jack's younger sister from his father's second, disastrous marriage. He rarely spoke of her.

"Of course," Annabelle said, relief washing over her. "She can stay as long as she needs. A few weeks?"

He looked away. "We'll see."

That was the beginning of the end. Everly arrived not for a few weeks, but for good. She was a ghost in their home, a whisper of poison in Jack's ear. The mansion grew cold again. The warmth Annabelle had so carefully cultivated vanished.

On what would have been their sixth anniversary, a day that was supposed to be a celebration of their upcoming wedding, Annabelle stared at two pink lines on a pregnancy test. A secret, precious joy bloomed in her chest. She couldn't wait to tell Jack. This baby, their baby, would surely fix everything. It would mend the growing cracks Everly had carved into their life.

She dressed with care, choosing a soft blue dress he loved. She found him in the living room, but he wasn't alone.

Everly was curled on the sofa, her head in Jack's lap, sobbing. Her delicate shoulders shook. Jack was stroking her hair, his expression a mask of pained sympathy.

"What's wrong?" Annabelle asked, her own joy faltering.

Jack looked up, his eyes cold. "It's our anniversary, Annabelle. Did you forget?"

"No, of course not. I was just about to..."

"Everly remembered," he cut in. "She's been so fragile since her last... episode. She planned a special dinner for us, to celebrate."

Annabelle's heart sank. She looked at the dining table, set for three.

"Jack, I thought we would be alone tonight," she said, her voice small.

"Everly is family," he snapped. "She is not some stranger. She is my sister, and she is unwell. She needs our support."

"I know, but..."

"She can't be left alone, especially not tonight. The doctor said any stress could trigger a relapse," Jack said, his voice hardening. It was the same excuse he used for everything now. Everly's fragile mental state. Her history of addiction.

He stood up, his towering frame casting a long shadow over her. "We will have dinner here. The three of us. You will be nice to her. We will not be going out."

The reservation at their favorite restaurant, the one he had made weeks ago, was forgotten. Her news, the beautiful, life-changing secret she held, felt like ash in her mouth.

"And Annabelle," he added, his voice dropping to a low command. "Change your dress. The color is too bright. It's upsetting Everly."

She looked at him, at the man who had promised her the world, and saw a stranger. This wasn't Jack. This was a puppet, and Everly held the strings.

"I'll just... get you a gift card for the restaurant," he offered, as if that could fix it. As if money could patch the gaping wound in her heart.

She didn't want a gift card. She wanted him. The him from before.

"No, thank you," she said, her voice hollow. She turned and walked away, the pregnancy test feeling like a lead weight in her pocket.

"I want you, Jack," she whispered to the empty hallway. "All of you. Not just the parts Everly allows me to have."

From the living room, she heard Everly's soft, triumphant voice. "Jack, is she angry with me? I didn't mean to ruin your anniversary."

Jack's reply was a low, soothing murmur. "She'll get over it," he said, confidence dripping from his tone. "She always comes back. Where else would she go?"

She stopped, her hand on the grand staircase. He was right. She had nowhere else to go. But she made a silent promise to herself then, a promise she would one day be forced to keep.

If love was a choice, she would choose herself.

One day.

She didn't go to the hospital that night. She couldn't. Instead, she went to her brother Adan's apartment.

"Adan," she said, her voice breaking as he opened the door. "I need to get away."

He pulled her into a hug, his familiar scent of old books and coffee a small comfort.

"What did he do?"

She told him everything. The sister, the cruelty, the baby.

He listened, his face hardening with every word. When she was done, he looked at her, his eyes serious.

"There is a way out, Anna. But it's drastic." He told her about the Cordova family, about their business struggles, and about their son, Julian, a war hero lying in a coma. "They need an alliance. We need a lifeline. A marriage."

The idea was insane. Marry a man in a coma? But as she thought of Jack's cold eyes and Everly's triumphant smile, insanity started to feel like the only sane option.

"I'll do it," she whispered. "I'll marry him."

The next morning, Annabelle packed a small bag. She was leaving. She couldn't stay in that house another minute. As she reached the door, Jack's voice stopped her.

"Where are you going?"

He stood at the top of the stairs, already dressed in a sharp suit. Beside him, Everly clutched his arm, her eyes red-rimmed.

"I'm leaving, Jack."

"Don't be ridiculous," he said, descending the stairs. "You're just emotional." He stopped in front of her. "Before you go, Everly needs something."

Annabelle stared at him. "What?"

"Your violin," Everly said, her voice a fragile whisper. "The one Jack gave you. It's so beautiful. I just want to hold it."

The Guarneri. Her most prized possession. The symbol of his love, now tainted.

"No," Annabelle said, her voice flat.

Everly's face crumpled. Tears streamed down her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she cried, hiding her face in Jack's chest. "I just... I'm so sad, and music helps."

Jack's arms tightened around his sister. He glared at Annabelle over Everly's head, his face a thundercloud of fury.

"Look what you did," he hissed. "She's fragile."

He cooed at Everly, stroking her hair. "It's okay, sweetie. I'm here." The tenderness in his voice was a physical blow to Annabelle. He had never spoken to her like that, not even in the beginning.

"Apologize to her," Jack commanded, his eyes like chips of ice.

Annabelle laughed. It was a broken, humorless sound. "Apologize? For what? For wanting to keep what is mine?" She remembered just last week, she had found Everly in her music room, her hands all over the sheet music for her upcoming recital. The pages were smudged with what looked like jam.

When Annabelle had confronted her, Everly had burst into tears, claiming she just wanted to feel closer to the music. Jack had brushed it off. "It's just paper, Annabelle. I can buy you a hundred new copies."

"I'm leaving," Annabelle repeated, turning toward the door.

"If you walk out that door, the wedding is off!" he threatened.

"You think I care?" she shot back. "You're the one who kept refusing to marry me for years! I was the one begging!"

He grabbed her arm, his fingers digging into her skin. "You're not going anywhere."

She met his gaze, and for the first time, she felt nothing. No love, no fear, just a vast, cold emptiness. The man she loved was gone, replaced by this monster.

His eyes widened at her cold expression, and his grip tightened. Rage contorted his handsome features.

"Take off the dress," he snarled.

"What?"

"The dress. I bought it for you. Everything you have, I bought for you. Take it off. You can leave, but you'll leave with nothing."

He was trying to humiliate her, to break her. He gestured to the two maids who had been watching silently from the kitchen doorway. "Help her."

The maids, their faces pale, moved toward her. She didn't fight. She stood still as they peeled the designer dress from her body, leaving her in her simple underwear. The cold air of the foyer bit at her skin.

Everly gasped, a theatrical hand flying to her mouth. "Oh, Jack, look! Her scar!"

Annabelle instinctively crossed her arms over her chest, trying to hide the jagged, pale line that ran from her collarbone to her shoulder. An old injury from a car accident years ago. It had nearly ended her career. The permanent nerve damage meant she could never play for more than an hour without pain. It was her secret shame, a vulnerability she had only ever shown to Jack.

"Cover that up," Jack said, his voice laced with disgust. He didn't look at her, but at Everly. "It's upsetting her."

Annabelle's last hope shattered. He knew what that scar represented. The months of physical therapy, the fear that she would never play again. He had been there, holding her hand, telling her she was beautiful, scar and all.

Now, he looked at it-at her-as if she were something grotesque.

"You know, Everly," Annabelle said, her voice dangerously calm. "This scar is from an accident. It's a part of my story. Unlike some people's scars, which are self-inflicted for attention." She looked pointedly at the faint, neat lines on Everly's wrists, lines that were always on display.

Everly's eyes widened. She let out a small cry and her eyes rolled back in her head as she collapsed in a heap on the floor.

"Everly!" Jack roared. He rushed to his sister's side, gathering her into his arms. He looked at Annabelle, his eyes burning with a hatred so pure it scorched her.

"You did this," he spat. "You will pay for this."

He carried Everly up the grand staircase, leaving Annabelle standing alone and half-naked in the cold, cavernous hall.

Jack didn't just leave her in the hall. He had the maids drag her to the basement. It was a damp, dark wine cellar, the air thick with the smell of earth and stale alcohol. He took her phone, her purse, everything.

"You'll stay here until you learn some respect," he had said, his voice devoid of any emotion before he slammed and locked the heavy oak door.

She was there for two days. No food, only a bottle of water. The cold seeped into her bones. Her body ached, and a dull cramp started in her lower belly. It was fear, she told herself. Just fear. But it grew, a persistent throb that echoed the hollowness inside her.

On the third morning, the door opened. A maid stood there, her face impassive. "Mr. Hyde said you can leave now. But you are to go straight to the hospital."

Annabelle didn't ask why. She just nodded, her body too weak to argue. She pulled on the simple clothes the maid had brought and stumbled out of the mansion, blinking in the bright sunlight.

She needed to get to the clinic. The one Adan had found for her. This baby... she couldn't bring a child into this nightmare. It was a cruel, painful decision, but it was the only one she had left.

She got to the clinic, her legs shaking. The nurse at the front desk was kind but firm.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. For this procedure, we need the signature of a spouse or a direct family member. It's a legal requirement."

A spouse. A family member. Jack was her fiancé. Adan was hours away. She had no choice. Her hands trembled as she dialed Jack's number.

He answered on the second ring. "What do you want, Annabelle? I'm busy."

In the background, she could hear Everly's soft voice. "Jack, who is it? Is it her? Tell her not to call, it makes my anxiety worse."

"It's just a work call, sweetie," Jack's voice was honey-sweet for Everly, then turned to gravel for her. "What is it? Spit it out."

"Jack, I'm at the hospital," Annabelle began, her voice cracking. "I need you to come. I need your signature for a... a procedure."

"A procedure?" he scoffed. "What, did you get yourself into some trouble? Are you trying to get plastic surgery to fix that ugly scar of yours? Forget it. I'm not paying for your vanity."

He didn't even ask what kind of procedure. He didn't care.

"Jack, please..."

"I have to go. Everly is not feeling well."

He hung up.

The dial tone buzzed in her ear, a final, definitive sound. She stared at the phone, a wave of nausea washing over her. She remembered a time when she had a small fever, and he had flown a specialist in from another state. He had held her hand for hours, wiping her brow with a cool cloth, whispering that he couldn't bear to see her in pain.

Where was that man? Who was this cold, cruel stranger who wore his face?

The love she had felt for him, the deep, unwavering devotion, finally curdled into something cold and dead. There was nothing left to save.

She turned to leave the clinic, her plan in ruins. She would have to find another way. As she pushed open the glass door, she froze.

A black Bentley had pulled up to the curb. Jack was getting out, opening the passenger door for Everly. Everly looked pale and delicate, leaning on his arm as he helped her out of the car. They were at the same hospital.

Jack saw her. A cruel smirk twisted his lips. "Well, look who it is. Following us, Annabelle? I knew you couldn't stay away."

She said nothing, just tried to walk past them. He blocked her path.

"Not so fast," he said. "It's perfect timing, actually. Everly had another one of her episodes. The doctor said she's anemic. She needs a blood transfusion."

He looked her up and down, his eyes clinical and cold. "You're both the same blood type. I checked. You're going to donate."

"What? No," Annabelle said, her hand instinctively going to her stomach. "I can't. I'm... I'm not well."

"Don't be selfish," he snapped. "Everly tried to cut her wrists again this morning because of what you said. This is the least you can do."

"Jack, I'm pregnant," she whispered, the words a desperate, last-ditch plea. "I can't give blood."

He stared at her, then threw his head back and laughed. A harsh, ugly sound. "Pregnant? Don't be ridiculous. You're just saying that to get out of it. You're always so dramatic."

Tears streamed down her face, but she didn't make a sound. She just stood there, her heart breaking over and over again.

He grabbed her arm, his grip bruising. "You're doing this."

He dragged her back into the clinic, ignoring her protests. He pushed her into a small room, forcing her into a chair. A nurse came in with a needle.

"Please," Annabelle begged, looking at Jack. "Please, don't do this."

He wouldn't look at her. He just stared out the window, his jaw tight. "Take 400cc," he told the nurse.

The needle slid into her vein. She felt a wave of dizziness as her blood, the very life force she needed for her baby, was drawn from her body. She felt weak, her vision blurring at the edges.

When it was over, he didn't even look at her. He just took the bag of blood and walked out of the room. She watched him walk down the hall, his arm around a triumphant-looking Everly, and leave her there, drained and empty.