Daisy Miller

place I' d offered her funding for, a space for

my family' s older, less volatile art

hered. Daisy stood i

collaborative mural, was sla

ived, summoned by a frantic message from one of my father' s staff.

led. Jealou

I vaguely recognized as one of Daisy' s new

A blatant, o

ing from Cade' s betr

ady there, flanking Daisy, thei

s voice dripping with disappointment.

sneered, looking at the ruined canva

a silent condemnation that

They didn' t question Daisy' s

alent, their eagerness to see me as fl

wanted to bring beauty to the community. Sh

their faces turnin

I' d provided, were now twisted into evid

the true depth of th

her' s

one thing that sometimes, just sometim

he wood vibrated against me, wa

had an expert luthier who could ensure its perfect preservation, give

ead seepe

ry, Daisy still clinging to hi

ce tight. "My mother' s

le for a fleeting sec

Ava," Cade began,

n her face. "Oh, that old thing? It was so... tra

et you have it? What a

believe in... creative repurposing. It had such interesting ol

I whispered, the ro

oyance? – in his eyes. "Daisy felt it could be part of her ne

e, the storm threatening to break free. "You g

ely sections. I' ve incorporated them into a sculpture representing the struggle of the modern artist against out

s soul, sold for parts

room died. The li

physical blow, s

ion I had left to her, the only instrument

d. By the

just grief anymore. It was r

around me crackle,

shivered, her s

back, his eyes

y saw a glimpse of what the LeB