Contract Marriage with My Secret Partner in Crime-Chapter 63: Back on Stage

Just as Zephany returned to her seat beside Kendrick, the lights in the Grand Hall dimmed suddenly. A hushed gasp swept across the room. Then, a single spotlight cut through the darkness, casting a soft glow on the grand piano that stood alone on stage.

People murmured among themselves.

"Is this it?" a woman in the row behind whispered, leaning toward her partner.

"Must be. The invitation said the prodigy would perform last," her partner replied, eyes glued to the stage.

"But who could it be?" another guest chimed in, clutching his wine glass tightly. "No one knows the name. It just said ’a legend reborn’."

A group of elegantly dressed older ladies exchanged excited looks.

"I bet it’s that girl from Austria—Clara Villeneuve," one said knowingly. "She disappeared for years, remember? This might be her comeback."

"No, no," another disagreed, fanning herself. "I heard it might be a child protege who aged out of the spotlight. Maybe the daughter of some wealthy socialite."

The guesses flowed like champagne.

"Could be someone from overseas. Maybe Japan?"

"What if it’s Cassius Varen’s secret student? He’s been sponsoring all these quiet concerts lately."

Even Zephany couldn’t help but lean slightly toward the whispers, curiosity slowly blooming across her face. She had to admit, it was intriguing. Despite everything, despite the unresolved mission and the emotions still twisting in her chest, she was human. And she had always loved music.

She was just beginning to wonder if perhaps the rumors were true when the spotlight suddenly shifted—away from the piano and directly onto her.

She froze.

Blinking against the sudden brightness, Zephany squinted. Her heart raced. Her breath caught in her throat.

"W-What?" she muttered, instinctively reaching for Kendrick’s hand.

Kendrick sat up straight beside her, caught completely off guard. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at her, then at the spotlight now trained on her petite figure.

"Zephany..." he whispered, stunned.

A voice echoed through the hall. Deep, calm, clear.

"Now, let’s welcome the person who dominated the music world during her younger days. Our music prodigy as she gives us a memorable performance tonight... Let’s give a round of applause to the talented Zephany Draven."

Zephany’s eyes widened.

The room fell completely silent for one heartbeat.

Then murmurs exploded.

"Zephany Draven?"

"She’s the prodigy?"

"Wait, she’s just a journalist, isn’t she?"

"I didn’t even know she played the piano."

Kendrick turned toward her, speechless.

His wife—a musical prodigy?

"You... You never mentioned this," he said, half-laughing in disbelief.

Zephany turned slowly, her lips parting as if to speak, but nothing came out. She wasn’t sure if it was the shock of being exposed or the overwhelming wave of past emotions now surging up from the depths.

In the front row, her uncle’s family sat rigidly.

Her uncle’s lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowing. Her aunt whispered something furiously, clearly not pleased.

Her cousin, the one who had just performed—stolen her composition—looked thunderstruck. The color had drained from her face.

They were all staring at her like she had committed a crime.

Zephany took a breath. Then another. Slowly, her posture straightened.

She turned to Kendrick and offered a small, almost sheepish smile.

"Seems I really need to perform tonight," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Kendrick blinked, then chuckled. His expression softened.

"My wife is full of surprises," he said warmly.

Zephany’s cheeks flushed pink at the word.

Wife.

It hit her harder than the spotlight.

She blinked at him, stunned. Then without thinking, she stood and bowed slightly, as if unsure of what to do with the compliment or the attention. Then she turned toward the aisle, taking a shaky first step—too quick.

Her heel nearly caught in the carpet.

She wobbled.

Kendrick’s heart leapt. He instinctively reached out, but before he could stand, she had righted herself.

He exhaled, hand still half-raised.

Then he chuckled under his breath.

"Why is she so easy to tease?" he muttered, shaking his head. "I didn’t even say anything much."

Zephany felt the flush on her face deepen. She was painfully aware of every eye on her as she made her way to the stage. Her clumsiness. Her nerves. Her trembling hands.

She paused once at the foot of the stage, closed her eyes briefly, then climbed the steps.

Once on stage, she forced herself to breathe.

Straighten your posture. Don’t look nervous. Smile. You used to do this. You can do this.

Her mind raced.

Was this what The Archive was talking about? Was this the performance they meant? Did they arrange all this?

But why?

There was no time for answers.

She sat down in front of the piano. Her reflection stared back at her in the glossy black surface.

It had been years.

She hadn’t touched a piano since... since her mother’s funeral.

Her hands hovered above the keys.

Trembling.

She wasn’t sure if she still had it. If the music would still flow.

The room was silent.

No one spoke. Not a cough. Not a shuffle.

Just her.

Just the piano.

Well, there’s no backing out now.

She raised her hands, closed her eyes.

And waited.

The notes came slowly at first—soft, gentle, like raindrops on an empty rooftop. Each one a memory. Each one a breath from the past.

Then her fingers moved on their own.

The melody she began to play wasn’t one she had planned.

It wasn’t even the piece she had written long ago.

It was something new. Raw. Honest. A little broken, a little hopeful.

The music told her story.

A girl who had once filled concert halls, now forgotten.

A family torn by greed and pride.

A voice silenced.

But not destroyed.

The music rose.

And with it, her heart.

Down in the audience, Kendrick couldn’t take his eyes off her. He sat perfectly still, almost afraid to breathe, as if doing so would break the spell she had cast over the room.

He had never seen her like this.

So small, yet so powerful.

She looked fragile—yes—but also radiant. In her own quiet, unassuming way, she commanded the room.

As if the piano was her voice.

And for the first time, everyone was listening.

Even her uncle’s family sat in stunned silence.

Her cousin stared at the stage, her hands clenched in her lap.

When the final note faded, the silence that followed was heavier than applause.

Then—

The entire hall erupted.

People rose to their feet. Applause thundered through the Grand Hall. Cheers. Whistles. Claps that echoed through the very walls.

Zephany slowly stood and turned to the crowd, face flushed, unsure whether to bow or cry.

She caught Kendrick’s eyes.

He stood with the rest, applauding—eyes warm, proud.

And smiling.

And just like that, Zephany Draven felt like she was back in her old life.