My Ten Fingers for Her Childhood Love Chapter 1

Becoming a concert pianist had always been my dream.

But on the day of my Grand Master piano examination, a group of thugs suddenly stormed the venue. As I was about to complete my performance, they slammed down the heavy piano lid, then stomped on it repeatedly, with all their might. My fingers were instantly smashed to a bloody mess.

I screamed, trying desperately to pull my hands free, but I couldn't. I looked to my wife, Vicki, for help.

Instead, I watched as she actually blocked my friends and the security guards who were trying to reach me.

I only learned later that these thugs were there for Leo Maxwell. They meant to break his hands.

But my wife had said: "You can't touch Leo's hands. Go for the pianist over there. He's all yours."

My heart died that day. I decided then and there that I would divorce her.

But later, she begged for my forgiveness. She even broke Leo’s hands, crying as she pleaded with me.

…

The piano lid slammed down with a sickening thud, struck by a thug’s bat. It was impossibly heavy.

I screamed, a primal sound torn from my throat, frantically trying to yank my fingers from beneath the crushing weight.

But the thug, a burly brute, stepped onto a bench and then jumped onto the piano, stomping down with all his weight, again and again. The pain was excruciating, shooting through every nerve, making me gasp for breath, cold sweat slicking my skin.

"Stop it! Stop! Please, stop hitting! Just stop!" I begged, my voice hoarse. "I’ve never done anything to you! Why are you doing this to me?!"

The thug looked down at me, a sneer twisting his brutal face. "No grudge, huh? Leo Maxwell put my brother in prison. I came for my revenge, but your wife stopped me. She said you were fair compensation. A pair of hands? That's not too much to ask, is it, big-shot pianist?"

"No... it's impossible!"

I twisted my head, my eyes wide with disbelief. Across the room, Vicki was directing a phalanx of bodyguards, shielding Leo in their midst, murmuring reassurances to him, telling him not to be afraid. My piano teacher, horrified, was trying to get past with the venue's security, but Vicki stood in their way. "This is a private family matter," she’d said, her voice sharp. "You don't need to interfere."

My body trembled with a cold fury, unable to reconcile what I was seeing with reality. This was beyond absurd!

The next second, I heard a sickening crunch, the unmistakable sound of bone shattering. Warm, sticky blood began to seep from beneath the lid, trickling down the polished piano keys.

A wave of icy panic washed over me. I was terrified. Terrified I would never play piano again.

Shame and dignity crumbled. I looked up at her, my voice raw with desperation. "Vicki, please! For the sake of our three years of marriage! Save me! Please, save me!"

She merely glanced at me, her gaze cold and distant. "It's because you're my husband that I'm letting you do this. You're truly disappointing me, Ethan." Her voice was dismissive. "It's just a few stomps, isn't it? Leo has helped me so much. This is just you repaying a debt."

Hearing such cruel, venomous words spill from her beautiful, crimson lips felt like a knife twisting in my heart. In that moment, I couldn't tell if my heart or my mangled hands hurt more.

Four years of dating, three years of marriage. Did she not know that my dream was to be a concert pianist? That these hands were the most precious things I possessed? Seven years of a shared life, of supposed affection, shattered and crumbled into dust at that very moment.

The thug continued to stomp on the lid, venting his twisted rage. As if that wasn't enough, he began to kick my face, his foot grinding against my head, then he shoved the toe of his shoe into my mouth. My hands were pinned; I was utterly helpless to resist.

And my wife stood by, utterly indifferent, her eyes fixed only on Leo, who had started to fake a heart attack again, drawing her concern.