Novel Legend
Chapter 14
Chapter 14
Megan was pretty and played the violin well,
The manager paid her $300 a gig, and on busy days, Megan had to run to three or four venues. She played at least six hours a day. leaving her slender fingers calloused and blistered.
Despite the grueling schedule and all the running around, Megan never once regretted it.
She hadn’t called Sullivan, and neither had he. Though occasionally, she’d catch a glimpse of him in the news, attending galas and acquiring businesses.
In every snapshot, Sullivan was the epitome of poise and nobility.
In the past, Megan sometimes accompanied him at these occasions, watching his vibrant spirit with a quiet flutter in her heart.
But now, those scenes felt distant and alien to her..
Evening, on the hospital’s rooftop.
Megan sat in silence, a cold Coke she’d picked up from the convenience store beside her–a rare indulgence she would have once shunned for its unhealthiness
It was then that Dr. Begonia approached, who was as tall as ever in his surgeon’s white coat.
He stood by Megan, silently watching the sunset with her.
As the last glimmer of sunlight vanished, Megan tumed, saw Begonia, and stood up hurriedly, somewhat awkwardly, “Dr. Begonia.”
His gaze met hers with a gentle reminiscence.
Megan felt uneasy
Then, Begonia looked into the distance and softly said, “Megan, you used to call me Begonia when you were a child… remember those summer nights? You loved sleeping in the tent, and my mom would always bring you snow cones. She’s missed you over the years.”
Megan was stunned for a long time, finally remembering
“Begonia,” she murmured, spoken with a hint of bittemess. It reminded her of the carefree days when she was the cherished little princess of the Quigley family.
Now, everything had changed.
Begonia watched her silently. Then, reaching into his pocket, he produced a bank card, “There’s two million in this account, and the PIN is your birthday. It should cover your father’s medical bills
Megan refused, ” can earn money myself, really
Begonia noticed her hands, which were covered in several medical plasters, far from their once delicate softness
His voice tightened slightly. “Megan, you don’t have to make it so hard on yourself.”
He took out some ointment and began to treat her wounds.
Once done, Megan curled her slender fingers and spoke softly, “I used to live under the protection of others without a sense of self. Yes, I have nothing now, but I’m only 24. I want to start over on my own.”
She looked up at Begonia
And his gaze was as tender and profound as ever.
Megan only stayed at the hospital for two hours before she rushed off to a bar’s opening.
By the time it ended, it was nearly midnight/
Carrying her violin, she walked alone on the deserted streets, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the chilly night air
The neon lights dimmed in the late hour,
The giant screens on skyscmpers played gossip news, supporting the night’s splendor–Borough City’s business tycoon Sullivan had flown to Harmony City to spend a rorplantic Thanksgiving with his lady love.
In the footage, Blanca, pushing Cressida in a wheelchair, was cornered by reporters in an elevator. Sullivan looked impatient beside them.
Megan thought he must be irritated at being caught on camera.
Following
that was Cressida’s interview. She smiled sweetly at the camera, “I had a wonderful Thanksgiving. I hope my leg gets better.
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Also, I hope to leam violin from the musical genius Paxton. Mr. Lowry? He’s the most important man in my life”
After speaking, there was a hint of guilt in Cressida’s eyes.
Four years ago, she had impersonated Megan, making Sullivan believe she was the one who played the violin every day. She feared Sullivan discovering the truth.
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But quickly, she convinced herself that Sullivan wouldn’t know since he woke up to find Cressida with the violin in the hospital room. would never know.
Late at night on the streets of Borough City.
Megan stood still, her gaze lifted to the giant screen, watching Sullivan’s tendemess for someone else.
She felt a chill through her bones. Only then did she snap back to reality, murmuring softly, “So. Thanksgiving has come.”
With her violin on her back, she turned and walked away.
The streetlights stretched her shadow long and thin down the quiet road.