She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 958

Morris leaned against the wall, looking down at his setlist. His long, elegant fingers traced the edge of the heavy cardstock. They paused, pinching the paper so hard it left a sharp crease, before he slowly smoothed it out again.

Helena got up to do her final walk-through of the venue. The doors would be opening soon. But as she turned to leave the aisle, her heel snagged on a thick, black power cable that had somehow slipped out of the floor track. In the dim lighting, it was virtually invisible.

She tripped hard, her momentum throwing her forward. Gasps echoed through the empty hall.

"Helena!"

Morris, who had just sat down at the piano to warm up, hadn't even struck the first chord when he caught the movement in his periphery.

He shot up so fast his knee slammed into the bench, the wooden legs letting out a violent screech against the stage floor. He lunged forward, his body moving on pure instinct, his arm reaching out for her.

But Swain was closer. He vaulted off the side steps and dove, wrapping one arm around her waist while throwing his other hand out to brace for the impact.

They crashed to the floor together, Swain taking the brunt of the fall on his back, narrowly missing a heavy metal light box that clattered against the ground next to them.

"You okay?" Swain gasped, ignoring the sharp pain radiating up his arm as he checked on Helena.

She pushed herself up, immediately spotting the nasty, bleeding gash on his forearm. Panic flooded her chest. "You're bleeding!"

"I'm fine, just a scratch. Hey, at least we didn't die on Mr. Lonsdale's stage, right?" Swain joked, trying to lighten the mood.

They awkwardly helped each other up. When Helena finally glanced toward the stage, Morris was standing perfectly still at the edge of the proscenium, his arm dropped to his side. His expression was a stone wall.

"Seriously, don't stress about it. It was the tech crew's fault for not taping down the run," Swain assured her. "Thank God we caught it before a VIP broke their neck. Mr. Lonsdale won't blame you. He’s too rational for that."

Helena offered a thin smile. "Yeah. Nobody is more rational than him."

"You should head back and manage the show," Swain urged. "I'll catch an Uber when I'm discharged."

Noticing the cold sweat on his forehead, she patted his good shoulder. "It's fine. I'll wait, and we can head back together. The team knows the drill inside out. It'll be a flawless night."

She was right. Morris never faltered on stage. To him, the accident was nothing more than a momentary blip. He delivered a flawless performance to thunderous applause, but skipped his usual polite curtain-call remarks and vanished backstage immediately.

Helena still wasn't back.