He Chose His Comrade’s Widow Over Our Child’s Birthday Chapter 02

10 Days Until Departure

I had just finished a six-hour emergency surgery and returned home completely exhausted.

The moment I stepped out of the elevator, I froze.

Our front door stood wide open.

Voices echoed from inside, along with the sound of furniture scraping across the floor.

My stomach dropped.

I hurried in, only for the blood in my veins to turn ice cold.

The living room was a disaster.

Several movers were carrying Mia’s piano out of her study while Julian stood nearby giving instructions in casual clothes.

“Careful with the corners,” he warned. “That piano costs a fortune.”

It was a Steinway grand piano.

I had saved for three years, taking extra shifts nonstop so I could buy it for Mia’s fifth birthday.

She wiped it down every single day like it was her greatest treasure.

“Julian,” I said sharply, stepping in front of the movers. “What the hell are you doing?”

Seeing me home early, guilt flickered across his face for half a second before disappearing under righteous confidence.

“Don’t start making a scene.”

He frowned impatiently.

“Vivian just moved into a new place. Leo’s been getting bullied at school because he doesn’t have a father. His therapist said learning piano could help with the emotional trauma.”

He paused before adding casually, “Vivian’s raising him alone. She can’t afford a piano like this. Mia barely plays anymore anyway, so Leo can borrow it for now.”

I almost laughed at the absurdity.

He was taking our daughter’s most precious possession to heal another woman’s son.

And somehow he still thought he was noble for it.

If this had happened before, I would’ve screamed at him until the entire neighborhood heard us.

Instead, I calmly pulled out my phone and started recording.

The movers.

The piano.

Julian’s face.

His expression darkened.

“What are you doing?”

He stepped forward, reaching for my phone.

I took a step back.

“Collecting evidence,” I replied coolly. “That piano is marital property. You’re transferring assets to outsiders without my consent. I have every right to document it.”

Julian’s face hardened immediately.

“Chloe, when did you become this cold and calculating?”

His voice rose.

“That’s Caleb Vance’s son! Caleb died saving my life! It’s just a damn piano. Do you really have to be this selfish?”

Then he pulled out his phone and transferred me five thousand dollars.

“There. Consider it bought. Just get Mia some cheap keyboard to practice on.”

After saying that, he waved for the movers to continue.

A few minutes later, the piano was gone.

The front door closed behind them.

I stood in the empty study staring at the four deep marks left behind on the hardwood floor.

The room suddenly felt suffocating.

Not long after, Mia came home from school.

Still wearing her backpack, she stopped in the doorway the moment she saw the empty space.

The piano was gone.

Only the indentations remained.

She didn’t cry.

She didn’t ask where it went.

She quietly returned to her bedroom, opened the composition notebook Julian had crumpled earlier, and picked up her pencil.

Then she wrote her fourth essay.

[My Dead Dad Took My Piano Away Too]

I stood outside her door watching her tiny back and felt my eyes sting.

My phone buzzed.

It was an Instagram notification from Vivian.

I opened it.

In the photo, Leo sat in front of Mia’s piano, grinning ear to ear.

The caption read:

[Caleb can finally rest in peace.

Leo has his very first piano now.

Thank you to our dearest Captain Thorne for giving us hope again.]

Julian had already liked the post.

I stared at the picture for a very long time.

Then I liked it too.

After that, I exited Instagram, opened my banking app, and paid the remaining balance on the house near Mia’s new school district in Boston.

A few seconds later, a text from Julian popped up.

[I only did this to help Leo stabilize emotionally.

I’m off next weekend. I’ll take Mia to Disney to make it up to her.

Stop teaching our daughter to hold grudges.]

I stared at the words make it up to her and let out a cold laugh.

I never replied.

Because there wouldn’t be a next weekend.