Chapter 4 - The Lost Heirloom"Who taught you that dance?" Adrian asked, his voice low, intense, and laced with a strange, trembling urgency.
"My mother," I replied, backing up slightly under his overwhelming presence.
His jaw tightened, his dark eyes searching my face. "What was her name?"
I hesitated, unnerved by the heavy silence enveloping the surrounding guests. "Rose Bennett."
The elderly woman behind him made a broken, almost painful sound, leaning heavily against a marble pillar for support. Adrian stared at me as though he had just looked straight through a ghost.
"That melody was never published," Adrian whispered, stepping closer until only inches separated us.
I frowned, my protective instincts flaring. "What do you mean it wasn't published? It’s our family song."
"No," Adrian shook his head slowly. "My grandmother composed it privately when she was young. She wrote it exclusively for her two daughters as a lullaby."
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My hands went ice-cold. "My mother knew it her entire life."
"I know," Adrian said, his gaze locked intensely onto mine. "Because one of my grandmother's daughters vanished without a trace more than thirty years ago."
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