flash

CHAPTER 1 — "Play If You Want Her to Live."

The charity gala glittered beneath thousands of crystal lights.

Luxury cars lined the entrance.

Champagne flowed like water.

Politicians laughed beside celebrities.

Billionaires toasted million-dollar donations while cameras flashed from every corner of the estate.

No one noticed the barefoot boy standing outside the iron gates.

He couldn't have been older than ten.

His faded shirt hung loosely from his thin frame.

His feet were scratched from walking miles without shoes.

He clutched a small wooden flute against his chest as though it was the only valuable thing left in his world.

Security guards had already pushed him away three times.

"Kid, this isn't a place for beggars."

"I'm not begging," the boy replied quietly.

"I just need to speak to Mr. Edward Ashcroft."

The guards burst into laughter.

"The richest man in the state?"

"You think he'll come outside for someone like you?"

The boy lowered his eyes.

"My mom said... if I ever couldn't save her... I had to find him."

Before anyone could respond, a violent cough escaped his lips.

He looked exhausted.

Hungry.

Terrified.

Inside the ballroom, Edward Ashcroft stood before hundreds of guests.

At seventy-one, he was one of the most powerful businessmen in America.

He had built an empire from nothing.

People admired his intelligence.

They feared his ruthlessness.

But behind the polished smile lived a lonely man.

He had never married.

Never had children.

For twenty-two years, one question had haunted every sleepless night.

What happened to Amelia?

The only woman he had ever loved.

She disappeared without a trace the night before they were supposed to leave everything behind together.

No goodbye.

No letter.

No explanation.

Only silence.

Edward spent fortunes searching for her.

Private investigators.

International agencies.

Missing person databases.

Nothing.

Eventually everyone convinced him she had chosen another life.

Everyone...

Except his heart.

Suddenly shouting erupted near the entrance.

One guest frowned.

"What is security doing?"

Edward glanced toward the doors.

Outside stood the skinny little boy.

Still refusing to leave.

Still clutching that old flute.

One of the guards grabbed the child by the arm.

The flute slipped from his hands and hit the marble steps.

CRACK.

A piece broke away.

The boy immediately dropped to his knees.

"No!"

He picked it up as though someone had shattered a living part of him.

Tears rolled silently down his dusty face.

"My mother made this..."

Something about those words made Edward pause.

He slowly walked toward the entrance.

The crowd followed.

Curious.

Annoyed.

Expecting entertainment.

The boy looked up.

His lips trembled.

"My mom is dying."

"I need money for surgery."

"I don't want charity."

"I want to earn it."

The guests exchanged amused looks.

One woman whispered loudly,

"Another scam."

"They're getting creative."

Edward stared at the child for several long seconds.

Then he spoke in a cold voice.

"If you want money..."

"Earn it."

Gasps spread through the crowd.

The boy nodded.

Without another word, he carefully repaired the cracked flute with a thin leather cord tied around his wrist.

He closed his eyes.

Raised the instrument.

And began to play.

The first note froze the entire garden.

It wasn't perfect.

It wasn't polished.

But somehow...

It carried more emotion than the greatest orchestras Edward had ever heard.

Every note sounded like someone desperately trying to hold onto fading memories.

Guests slowly stopped talking.

Waiters stood motionless.

Even the musicians hired for the gala lowered their instruments.

The melody drifted through the warm summer night.

Then something impossible happened.

Edward's heartbeat suddenly accelerated.

His breathing became uneven.

Because hidden among the carved flowers on the flute...

He saw a tiny symbol.

A crescent moon wrapped around a single falling star.

His face instantly turned pale.

"No..."

His whisper barely escaped.

"It can't be..."

The exact same symbol...

Only one person had ever carved it.

Amelia.

May you like

And she had carved it for him...

Twenty-two years ago.

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