Chapter 4The Disabled Maestro Is My Judge

"Yes. With my student."

"Oh, Alistair. I’m so sorry." Owen’s face filled with remorse, instantly regretting his question.

I patted his shoulder and offered a calm smile. It had been so long ago; the wound was just a faint scar now.

After we married, Savannah's book became a massive success. After collecting every major national award, she stopped writing and founded a cultural company.

I opened my own art school. When I wasn't teaching, I poured all my energy into daily practice, determined to finally realize my dream of performing at the Golden Hall.

Eighteen-year-old Asher King was my most talented student. His parents had died in a fire, and he lived with his grandmother. I felt for the boy. I waived all his fees and often invited him over for dinner.

The next time Asher showed up, Savannah finally frowned.

"I know you care for your students, Alistair, but bringing him here constantly isn't appropriate. For one, we don't know his character, and second, I don't want our private space disturbed."

I finally managed to placate her and promised I wouldn't bring Asher home again. Savannah smiled and kissed my forehead.

How could a woman so focused on boundaries and vigilance turn around and cheat with Asher? I never would have guessed, not until I walked in on them.

The day my mother died of a cerebral hemorrhage, Savannah broke her leg in a fall at the office.

With her cast on, she was insistent about attending the funeral, but I managed to stop her. I promised her I would convey her respect and filial piety to my mother. Savannah, in tears, promised that she would visit my mother the moment she recovered.

After the funeral, I took my mother's only photograph with me. At the peak of my grief, I received a text from Savannah.

[How is the funeral going? I'll be there as soon as my leg is better.]

[Alistair, I will face everything with you.]

[I ordered takeout for myself today. Please take care of yourself back home.]

Seeing those warm words on my phone, I burst into tears. Savannah was my only family left in this world.

Thank God, I still had her.

But when I returned to the school with my mother's photo, I saw a scene I will never forget.

In the half-open practice room, a naked Savannah was straddling Asher, her back glistening in a way that suggested an open, intimate scene that reeked of calculated perversion. They were completely intertwined, oblivious.

I was shaking all over. I rushed in, slapped Asher hard, and grabbed Savannah's hair, pulling them apart.

"Savannah Reilly, is this your 'takeout'?"

"I want a divorce!"

One was the student I’d staked my professional reputation on; the other was the woman I loved with my life. I stared at them, the tears of despair streaming down my face.

Savannah knelt on the floor, slapping herself a dozen times, sobbing that she was only confused for a moment.

"Alistair, I swear on my life, it will never happen again!"

Asher rushed to the window, his eyes red. He cried out.

"I’m so sorry, Professor. I just love the Professor’s wife too much."

"I know that to love someone is to want their happiness. If my death is what it takes to make you two happy, then I'm willing to die."

Savannah, who had just been begging for forgiveness, instantly rushed over and embraced Asher. The tension in her face was exactly the same as when she had protected me years ago.

During the struggle, Asher knocked over the candles they had been using. They immediately ignited the practice room curtains, and the fire spread like wildfire.

The overhead chandelier chose that moment to crash down, hitting me.

"Alistair, don't be afraid! I'll get you out!"

Savannah fought desperately to push the heavy light fixture off me, but her resolve shattered the moment she heard Asher’s desperate cry.

After a brief hesitation—a hesitation that lasted a lifetime—she unflinchingly hoisted Asher onto her back.

"Asher has a severe psychological trauma from fire."

"Hold on, I’ll be right back for you!"

Savannah’s gaze flickered to mine, and then she was gone. She never came back.

In the choking smoke and raging heat, the intense pain of my shattered humerus was nothing compared to the shards of my broken heart.

I dragged myself out of the fire, but I permanently lost the use of my right hand. My school, which represented countless hours of my heart and soul, was nothing but ash. Marriage, dream, hope—I had lost everything.

Owen, shaking with anger, was about to floor the accelerator and go track Savannah down, but I stopped him.

"How can she and that snake still be considered human? I want to kill them right now!"

"That kind of trash woman should be thrown in prison! You went through hell together; how could she do that to you!"

The usually boisterous guy was red-eyed with rage.

I calmly assured him, "It took a trip through hell to truly see her for who she was."

"If she hadn't let go, I would never have met Eliza."

After the amputation, I signed the divorce papers. Aside from a few apology texts, Savannah never appeared again.

At my lowest point, when all hope was gone, I met Eliza Sinclair. That, however, is a different story.

Owen patted my shoulder, finally offering a relieved smile. "Alistair, I’m glad you're happy now."

Owen's girlfriend texted, rushing him home for her birthday, so we said our goodbyes.

Just as I was about to enter the villa, I heard Savannah shouting from behind me:

"Alistair, you absolutely cannot break in and steal..."