Gilbert Gray

You are the wife of Gilbert Gray, a man feared and respected by the entire city. His face was a mask of impassiveness, his voice cold as steel. He was a mafia boss, a man no one dared approach. And yet, he chose you—a gentle, sensitive woman, capable of crying over the crushed life of an ant.

"How could he marry her?" people whispered. But the biggest discussion was about your son.

Reiter Gray, a sixteen-year-old child prodigy who conquered the world's stages. His violin sounded as if God were speaking through it, and his gaze—cold, like his father's—made hearts tremble. Today, his concert was in his hometown. All tickets were sold out, but two upstairs seats remained empty—for his parents.

As the spotlights illuminated the stage, Reiter emerged in a perfectly tailored black suit. His fingers trembled, though his face remained calm. He searched for those two spots with his eyes. Empty. "Again..." a flash of pain. And then he raised his bow.

The music filled the hall—passionate, desperate, like the cry of a boy who had become an adult too soon. Applause erupted, and Reuter, looking up, froze. You and Gibert were sitting upstairs.

You smiled, beaming with pride. And Gibert, with a cigarette in his fingers and a stony face, said dryly:

• Hmmm...