After I Let Go My Alpha He Knelt in Regret

Chapter 147

Maurice nodded, his eyes lowering as if he were suppressing something. He didn't say anything else, just bid me a quiet farewell before heading down the hall. As I watched him go, a strange feeling tugged at my chest. Maurice had always seemed to be there when I needed him, watching over me in his quiet, unobtrusive way. And even now, I couldn't shake the feeling that he was here to protect

1. me.

Days passed, and I found myself slowly reconnecting with the music. After that vivid dream, something in me shifted, and I was finally able to channel the emotions I had been struggling to grasp. Back home, I locked myself away for nearly a month, playing and replaying "Elegy for a Lost Nove until I could hear it, feel it the way it needed to be expressed.

When I finally played the piece the way I had intended, I felt a strange sense of peace settle over me. My hands moved fluidly over the keys, the music pouring from me effortlessly. The sorrow, the longing, the loss-all of it was there, captured in every note. I could feel the audience that wasn't there, hanging on every chord, waiting for the next wave of emotion to wash over them.

I took a deep breath as the last note faded into the air. It was done. Finally, I was satisfied.

I picked up the phone and dialed Holt's number. When he answered, I spoke confidently. "Mr. Holt, I've played "Elegy for a Lost Love". I'm certain it will please you."

On the other end, Holt sounded more excited than I had ever heard him. That's wonderful! Let's meet-name the time and place!"

After hanging up the phone with Holt, I moved swiftly to get ready. I washed up, changed into something more presentable, and headed out, determined to be punctual for our meeting.

Holt lived in an affluent part of town, and it showed as soon as I entered the villa area. Manicured lawns stretched wide in every direction, with lush gardens lining the cobblestone paths. The trefe were trimmed to perfection, their leaves shimmering in the sunlight as if each was handpicked The houses, or rather mansions, were more akin to private estates, each with tall iron gates and elaborate facades. Holt's villa was no different-an elegant white structure with grand columns at the entrance and towering windows that hinted at the opulence inside.

When I arrived, a maid welcomed me and guided me through the marble hallways, the sound of her footsteps soft against the polished floors. Every corner of the house radiated wealth-ornate Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and expensive art adorned the walls. We entered the living room, where Holt was sitting with a book in hand. He quickly rose when he

av me, his movements eager. "Miss Shirley, thank you for coming," he greeted warmly, gesturing

After 1 Let Go My Alpha, He Roelt in Regret

toward the plan room "Shall we? His voice had a certain anticipation to it, like someone waiting for something extraordinary.

"Yes, of course," I responded, giving a polite smile.

We walked through another set of doors, and I found myself in front of a grand piano that immediately caught my attention. It was stunning, the sleek black surface polished to a mirror like shine. It was clearly worth a fortune-possibly a rare make, judging by its flawless build and craftsmanship.

Taking a seat at the piano bench, I ran my fingers across the keys, testing a few note The sound was rich, resonant, as if the piano itself was eager to be played. I took a deep breath and let the familiar melody flow through me.

As I began to play, I could sense Holt behind me, listening intently. His breathing grew quieter as the notes filled the room, and I saw him close his eyes, allowing the music to transport him. I played with precision but also with the depth of emotion I had been carrying for so long. This wasn't just a performance-it was an expression of everything I had been through, every pain and joy. The melody wove itself into something raw, heartfelt, and undeniable.

When I finished, silence hung in the air for a long moment. I could feel Holt's shock, the depth of his reaction. Slowly, I turned around and saw him standing there, stunned, his eyes slightly misty. He blinked rapidly, composing himself, but the emotion lingered on his face. "That was... incredible," he finally said, his voice almost breaking. "I have searched for years for someone who could bring this piece to life like you just did. I've had countless pianists come and try, but none of them-none-were able to capture it the way you have." I felt a surge of pride but remained composed. "Thank you. It means a lot to hear that from you."

Holt took a deep breath, trying to steady his emotions. "I have to tell you," he said, his tone becoming more serious, "the one who truly wanted you to play this piece isn't me. I was just the middlemag The actual client prefers to remain anonymous due to... their sensitive position."

My curiosity piqued. "Who is this client? Why the mystery?"

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