She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 838

Loyce turned around. "Small world."

Helena stared at Lucian standing beside Sigrid, her eyes widening in sheer disbelief.

Sigrid walked right up to the piano and looked at the manager. "Did you say this was crafted by the musical genius Mr. X? The one whose skills rival even Morris Lonsdale?"

The manager nodded eagerly. "Yes, ma'am. It's entirely one of a kind."

"Then this must be fate. This piano means everything to Lucian and me," Sigrid said, her voice dripping with calculated longing and regret. "My father is pulling out all the stops for our wedding. He's trying to hire the elusive Mr. X to play our processional. Wouldn't it be an incredible honor if he played it on his very own masterpiece?"

She turned her doe eyes up to Lucian. "Don't you think so, Lucian? I just want everything to be perfect."

Lucian gave a curt nod. "Then we'll buy it."

Sigrid looked at Loyce with exaggerated distress. "But the manager just said Ms. Lonsdale claimed it first. I don't know if she'd be willing to part with it."

Lucian easily read between the lines. He stepped away from Sigrid, walking right up to Loyce and looking down at her. "Sell me the piano."

Loyce held his gaze without blinking. "And if I say no?"

"I'll pay double."

He paused, a strange flicker in his eyes. "After the wedding, I'll give it back to you."

"Wedding? Who are you marrying?" Helena blurted out, completely bewildered. Meeting Lucian's icy stare, she shook her head. "I don't understand. Why is Mr. Shapiro marrying the heiress of Stellar Trust? Ms. Lonsdale is your fiancée! How could you betray her?"

Lucian's brow furrowed aggressively. He tore his gaze away from Helena and locked it onto Loyce.

Lucian lowered his eyes. If that were the truth, it explained the violent, aching phantom pain in his chest.

But as Sigrid finalized the purchase of the piano, his eyes betrayed him, scanning the hall until they found Loyce. She wasn't alone anymore. A tall, strikingly handsome young man was standing beside her, and they were smiling warmly at each other.

When the man took off his tailored coat and draped it over Loyce's shoulders before they walked out together, the phantom ache in Lucian's chest flared into a raging inferno. It was infinitely worse than before. It felt as if an invisible chain was anchored deep in his ribs, and the other end was tied around her retreating silhouette, dragging his heart out of his chest as she walked away.

Was this really what betrayal felt like?

Why was he consumed by a violent, feral jealousy? Why did he have an overwhelming urge to rip that man away from her and beat him to a pulp?

It was a feeling he had never, not even for a fraction of a second, felt with Sigrid.