Stephen's tone clearly carried a hint of challenge. A provocation? Ha. Who was scared of who? "Well then, if Mr. Woodward doesn't mind, I'll give it a shot." Tilda wasn't about to back down, not with a chance to play a legendary, priceless violin right in front of her. The opportunity was here, the owner was willing. Why not? Besides, if anything did go wrong, Tilda could afford the consequences. "Now that's the spirit, that's the idol I admire. Go ahead, pick whichever one you like. Don't worry, I actually had a friend stop by earlier and do a full tune-up on them," Stephen said with a grin. "Got it." Tilda's eyes landed on the one named Beethoven.Perfect. Beethoven had always been her inspiration. She ran her fingertips gently along the body of the violin, tracing the graceful curve of the strings. As she brought it up close, she caught a faint, aged scent of sandalwood and red eucalyptus, years of time and care soaked into the grain of the wood. Everything about it was captivating. Intoxicating. Even Tilda felt a rush of excitement bubble up inside her. For a musician, the chance to play something like this ... there was nothing more exhilarating. "This setup is incredible ... " Tilda narrowed her eyes slightly, admiring the feel and balance. She couldn't help but praise it. Whoever this friend of Stephen's was, they had to be a true master. Someone who respected instruments like living things. No way an amateur could've tuned and restored a one-of-a-kind violin from the last century to this level of perfection.Every detail of the strings was flawless, seamless, perfect, not a single flaw to be found. It was as if the violin had been given new life. Almost like it was whispering, silently but insistently, "Play me." Tilda lifted the bow and took her stance. Eyes closed, she tilted her face gently against the violin's shoulder and began to play. A flowing, elegant melody soared from the strings. This time, the piece she chose was none other than the world-renowned classic—Canon in D. Warm and expansive, the notes carried a sense of serenity, soothing and timeless, like a healing breeze passing over the earth. Like angel wings brushing away sorrow, bringing light and hope in their wake. As the music built toward its climax, Tilda's playing grew bolder, more impassioned. It was no longer just her and the violin. It was one being now, Tilda and Beethoven as a single force. The sound erupted, powerful, intricate, breathtaking.It was like color had exploded into the room, each note casting flashes of light, like stained glass reflections dancing in every corner. And in that moment, it felt as if this long-silent, century-old violin had been awakened at last. Given wings. In Tilda's hands, it was the perfect dance partner, executing complex moves and emotional dives with flawless grace. And when the last note finally faded, Tilda slowly opened her eyes. Her heart was still racing. Even in the chill of winter, a light sheen of sweat glistened across her skin. The sound of applause broke the silence. Even Stephen, who had probably attended more elite concerts than most people could dream of, didn't hold back. "Ms. Tilda, that was phenomenal! Truly divine, like something straight from the heavens. You've blown this old man away." Tilda smiled softly. "You're too kind, Mr. Woodward. I think the credit belongs to the violin. It really lives up to the name Beethoven. Getting the chance to play it today was worth everything." With the utmost care, she placed the violin back on its stand, as gently as if she were returning a priceless treasure to its sacred place. Her eyes shimmered with emotion, golden sunlight pouring in through the windows. In her heart, she whispered, "Thank you for giving me such an extraordinary experience." Just then, the door creaked open again. A familiar voice called out, unable to hide the excitement behind it. "Mr. Woodward, were you playing the violin or—wait ... is that you? Tilda?" ... Kayden stood there in stunned silence, eyes wide. He never expected to run into Tilda here. The moment she saw him, Tilda's expression changed, and her brows knit together. "Mr. Woodward, the friend you mentioned earlier ... don't tell me it's him?"Stephen coughed awkwardly. "Uh ... yeah. Who else could perfectly fine-tune these rare violins for me? That kind of precision takes absolute pitch, and only one person I know fits the bill, our genius composer, Kayden. I've been trying to get him out here for ages. He finally had a window a few days ago and came to the resort to help with the setup." Stephen hesitated, then added, "I do know the history between you two ... I didn't expect Kayden to still be here. Kayden, didn't you say you went back to your room to rest?" Kayden lowered his gaze. "I did, but when I heard that violin, I couldn't stop myself. The way it was played ... it moved me. More than any version of Canon in D I've ever heard." As a composer and a musician, Kayden couldn't ignore a performance like that. He knew it couldn't have been Stephen. Sure, the man loved violins, but he didn't have the skill to pull off something so emotionally powerful. And he never would've guessed Stephen would let anyone touch those violins, let alone play them. The last thing he expected was to walk in and find Tilda.Was this what people called a cursed connection? Kayden's chest tightened, remembering everything that had gone down recently with the Jensons.