Page 14 of Unlocking Melodies

“The board needs to know their CEO isn't running himself into the ground.” He studied me with eyes exactly like mine, his voice gentler than I'd heard it in years. “These recent decisions of yours... they feel personal.”

“You mean my successful decisions? Record profits? Groundbreaking innovations?”

“I mean decisions that seem driven by something deeper.” He leaned forward, his expression softening. “The neural interface project. The music technology patents. These weren't part of our plan, but maybe...” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “Maybe that's not such a bad thing.”

“Nothing about tech is traditional anymore.”

“No, it isn't.” A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “But some things should remain constant. Like fathers looking out for their sons.” He stood, smoothing his jacket with less of hisusual precision. “We worked hard to build this life for you, Ethan. Perhaps too hard. I'm beginning to wonder if we focused so much on creating something worthy of your talents that we forgot about what makes you happy.”

The unexpected honesty in his voice made my chest tight. Before I could respond, he turned to leave, but paused at the door.

“Just... take care of yourself, son. Some things matter more than quarterly projections.”

I waited until the door closed behind him before I reached for my tie. My fingers shook as I loosened the perfect Windsor knot. The setting sun caught my reflection in the window - bespoke suit, artfully styled hair, the empty smile I'd perfected for magazine covers.

For a moment, I didn't recognize the man staring back at me.

The piano mocked me from its corner. On my desk, the Best Under 40 CEO award gleamed next to stacks of contracts and acquisition proposals. Everything I was supposed to want. Everything I'd convinced myself I needed.

My phone buzzed. Another message about more problems that needed his attention. More distractions from the hollow feeling in my chest that never quite went away.

The code on my screen blurred. Bug reports and error messages and lines of logic that were supposed to make sense. The life I'd built, the empire I'd expanded, the control I'd perfected - it all felt suddenly fragile, like a house of cards waiting for the wrong breath to bring it down.

Eight years of building this perfect, empty life. Eight years of being exactly who I was supposed to be. Eight years of pretending the music in the corner didn't call to me like a siren song of everything I'd left behind.

The city lights below my office had started to blur into a circuit board of white and red, the kind of pattern that usuallyhelped me think. Numbers and data points normally crystallized in these quiet evening hours when the rest of the tower had gone dark. But tonight, even the market projections on my screen refused to make sense.

I was tired. Not the kind of tired that came from closing billion-dollar deals or outmaneuvering competitors. This was deeper, the kind that sleep couldn't touch. The kind that made you stare at a baby grand piano in the corner of your office and wonder when exactly you'd become a stranger to yourself.

My phone lit up with Liam's name. Our monthly check-ins were usually texts, brief updates about Jimmy that I pretended not to need but couldn't bring myself to stop. Five years ago, Liam had tracked me down at a tech conference, cornered me in the hotel bar, and demanded answers. I'd expected anger, but instead found understanding. Since then, he'd become my silent connection to the life I'd left behind - sending carefully casual messages about Jimmy's career moves, his successes, his life. Always giving me an out, never pushing too hard.

But this wasn't our usual time. And a call instead of a text meant-

“Something's happened.” Liam's voice was tight when I answered. No preamble, no pretense. We'd moved past those years ago.

My fingers tightened on the phone. “Is he-“

“Alive. But there was an attack. He's out of the hospital, and Ethan... he doesn't remember anything. Or anyone. Not the ranch, not the bar, not the last eight years. None of it.”

The world tilted sideways.

My free hand gripped the edge of my desk. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because he needs you. And because I know you. You probably have some alert set up to track news about himanyway, so I figured I'd save you the trouble of pretending you didn't know.”

He wasn't wrong. About any of it.

“I can't-“ I started, falling back on our usual dance of plausible deniability.

“Yes, you can. It's a three-hour drive. Less, in that ridiculous car you keep posting about on social media.” A pause. “He doesn't remember what happened between you. Maybe that's your chance to make it right.”

Five years of monthly updates flashed through my mind. Jimmy taking on new artists. Jimmy expanding his management company. Jimmy happy, successful, living the life I'd stepped away to protect. And now...

I stared at my reflection in the window - perfect suit, perfect hair, perfect empty smile. A carefully constructed facade that had never quite managed to fill the space where music used to live.

“I'll text you the details,” Liam said. “Stop overthinking and just come. He needs you.”

“I appreciate you watching out for him,” I said quietly. “All these years.”

---