Sensing my unease, Charlotte tugged on my sleeve. "Mom, it looks like Dad is busy with that lady. Let's just go home for now, okay? We can come back for a concert another day."

Her voice grew quieter, disappointment clear on her small face. But my mind was a blank, and I barely noticed. I dazedly led Charlotte onto a crowded subway, and we left Manhattan.

Back home, I pulled out our marriage certificate and other documents. I looked up the Maxwell Group's information on my computer.

"Headquartered on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, with a summer villa spanning several acres in the Hamptons. The family trust fund is valued at tens of billions of dollars."

Even all the way out in Brooklyn, I had heard of those places. The land there was worth its weight in gold; only New York's wealthiest could afford property in those areas.

Erik had kept us completely in the dark. I couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking as he watched us toil day after day, rain or shine, just to make ends meet.

Did he feel sorry for us? Or was he mocking our naivety and our poverty?

At that thought, a bitter, hollow laugh escaped me as I picked up the phone. I didn't call a divorce lawyer, because I couldn't possibly afford the exorbitant consultation fees of a Manhattan attorney. I just started researching the procedure for filing for a unilateral divorce.

I don't know how long I sat there before the sound of footsteps outside the door broke the silence. Erik was back.

Charlotte ran to the door to greet him as usual, but Erik was so withholding he wouldn't even offer her a hug, merely shrugging off his deceptively plain, expensive overcoat.

Normally, Charlotte was used to her father's coldness. But today, for some reason, she clung to the corner of Erik's coat and wouldn't let go.

"Dad, can you get me a new violin? My classmate's teacher taught her a lullaby, and I learned it just by listening once. I want to play it for you."

"Of course. As soon as I earn the money, I'll buy you one," Erik fobbed her off, as he always did.

"But when will that be?" Charlotte seemed unusually insistent today, pressing for an answer.

Erik frowned, annoyed by her persistence, but eventually relented.

Charlotte hugged my legs, cheering with excitement. "Mom, I'm getting a new violin! I'm going to play lots and lots of songs for you and Dad!"

I was happy for her, too, and looked forward to hearing her play. But one day passed, then two, then a whole week. The violin Erik had promised was still nowhere in sight.

One morning, I found Charlotte crying quietly under her covers. Erik saw it too but had no reaction.

Instead, when he saw me, his eyes lit up. "Good, you're here. I need you to cancel our anniversary dinner reservation. Something's come up."

The anniversary dinner. It was the one time a year we allowed ourselves to go to a nice restaurant. And he was canceling it for Sienna Monroe.

Our long-awaited, one and only family anniversary, and he was canceling it so casually.

I heard something inside me snap. That sentence lit the final fuse. A hot surge of anger blinded me, and I threw the thick stack of bills in my hand right at his face.

By the time I realized what I had done, tears were streaming down my face. Erik was the one who'd been hit, but I was the one crying harder.

Erik's temper flared, but the sight of my tears quickly morphed his anger into confused irritation.

"Fine, if you don't want to cancel, we won't! Is all this drama necessary? Have you lost your mind?"

"What about the violin you promised Charlotte?" I demanded sharply.

Erik seemed to have completely forgotten about the violin. A flicker of embarrassment crossed his face, which he quickly masked with impatience. "I'll buy it. Do you have to keep hounding me about it?"

"I'll buy it." He had said that countless times over the past five years. A stone thrown into water would at least make a splash, but his words didn't even create a ripple.

I stormed into Charlotte's room and pulled her out from under the covers.

"I'm going to divorce your father. Once the papers are filed, we'll go to Vienna together. How does that sound?"

For Charlotte, Vienna was a far-off, fairytale place, but for me, it was the only escape I could imagine. The Maxwell family's influence in New York was too great. If I didn't get far away, I wouldn't stand a chance if he decided to fight for custody. Only by going overseas, to the heart of classical music, could Charlotte's talent truly flourish.

All my savings combined were only enough to buy two one-way tickets on a budget airline.

Seeing my swollen, red eyes, Charlotte threw her arms around me and said softly, "Mom, can we give Dad one more chance? If he still doesn't remember by my birthday, then we'll leave."

"Alright."

But this was the last chance Charlotte and I would give him.

The next morning, Charlotte and I went out to set up our stall as usual. I had once been a top student at the Juilliard School, but I dropped out to have Charlotte. After being out of the professional circuit for so long, no orchestra would even consider me.

With no other options, I could only take Charlotte to the Union Square Christmas market to sell some handmade crafts. I sold Christmas ornaments I made myself, while Charlotte played her battered practice violin beside me to attract customers.

Charlotte had a sweet nature and a gentle demeanor. Many people would stop by my little stall just for her, leaving a few dollars as a tip.

"Excuse me, how much are these little angel ornaments?"

"Ten dollars for one, fifteen for two."

I looked up, and my breath caught. The customer at my stall was none other than Sienna, dressed in a lavish fur coat that made her look entirely out of place amidst the market bustle.

"I'll take two, then. Quick, before my friend sees."

As if afraid of being discovered, she handed me twenty dollars, glanced around furtively, and stuffed the ornaments into her designer handbag.

Just then, a large hand reached out from the side and grabbed Sienna's wrist.

"Sienna, I've told you a hundred times. You shouldn't be walking on that sprained ankle."

Erik snatched the ornaments from her hand and contemptuously tossed them back onto my stall.

"We don't want these."

The moment our eyes met, Erik's face instantly darkened, and a flash of panic crossed his eyes. However, Sienna seemed completely oblivious to his strange behavior.

"Oh, Erik. Look at her poor little girl, playing her violin out in the cold. Let's just buy two, to support her business."

At that moment, the pity in Sienna's eyes felt more like a knife cutting into my heart.

"Ah!" I gasped as the craft needle in my hand jabbed my finger. A bead of blood immediately welled up, dripping onto the pristine white angel ornament.

Seeing me bleed, Erik frowned and instinctively moved toward me.