CHAPTER 226: HER SURPRISE

That night, Joanne entered the rehearsal dinner hand in hand with Jeffrey. The warm glow of the chandeliers reflected in her eyes, and yet, she didn’t notice them. Her heart thudded wildly in her chest, not out of nerves, but from the sheer contrast to the last time she had stood in this room.

Last time, she had walked in alone. Her skin still remembered the weight of stares, the cold scrutiny from people who saw her as nothing but a small-town girl with calloused hands and wild roots. That time, she had been tolerated. Barely. Her presence had unsettled a tradition-bound family, and only Philip had offered her a true welcome.

But now...

Now was different.

As she stepped into the room, it wasn’t silence or sideways glances that greeted her. It was applause.

Philip and Christina stood first, clapping, and soon the rest of the room followed—polite at first, then enthusiastic. Joanne caught the knowing gleam in Christina’s eyes, the unmistakable pride in Philip’s nod. And surrounding them were faces that, looked at her with something close to warmth. Respect, even.

Her extended family...

Jeffrey’s heart swelled beside her. He looked at her like she’d placed the moon at his feet. This was the woman he had chosen, fought for, and would vow to love tomorrow in front of the whole world. His hand tightened around hers, and she looked up at him with quiet, glowing pride.

She had earned her place here. Not by submission or compromise, but by standing tall, being exactly who she was.

Of course, that moment of magic couldn’t last forever.

After dinner, Brianna Hauser—Robert’s girlfriend, porcelain-perfect and precise in her passive aggression—leaned forward with a smug smile and spoke just loud enough for everyone near her to hear.

"It’s so lovely to have such diversity in the family now. I do wonder how you’ll adjust to the culture, Joanne. I was raised playing the violin—properly, of course. It’s such a noble discipline. My mother said a young woman’s soul is reflected in how she draws the bow."

There it was.

Jeffrey exhaled slowly. Brianna was one of those. The kind who wielded grace like a weapon. One who said ten cruel things with a single smile. He could already hear where this was going and bit back the urge to defend Joanne. He’d seen Joanne play for her town—fiddle in her hands, hair wild, sweat gleaming on her neck, and the whole world dancing. But he knew that meant nothing to someone like Brianna.

Joanne’s voice was calm when she responded, attempting to smooth the tension. "It’s a beautiful instrument. I’ve always admired it."

But Brianna didn’t stop. "Would you care to join me for a piece? I brought my violin with me. Nothing too complex. Just something light. Bach’s Air?"

There it was. A challenge, as delicate as a snowflake and just as deadly.

Joanne held her composure. Her smile didn’t falter. "I’d love to."

Jeffrey turned to her instantly. "Jo—"

But she had already stepped forward. Her eyes held that quiet fire he loved—the kind that burned low but hot. That unwavering focus that always appeared when something mattered to her heart. He stopped himself from interfering. She didn’t need saving. She never did.

The violin was brought forward. Brianna played first. Her tone was clean and well-practiced, the performance rehearsed to perfection. Polished. Safe.

Then Joanne stepped up.

From the edge of the room, Patrick leaned forward in his seat. Liam crossed his arms, lips pursed. Fiona whispered something to Mary. Jason and Veronica watched with curious pride. Her people were there, and so was the entire Winchester clan.

Joanne stood before the audience with the grace of someone who didn’t need to pretend.

She picked up the violin, turned the sheet music with a glance—and then did something unexpected.

She set it aside.

She closed her eyes and let the first note rise—a sweet, aching tone that seemed to cut through the velvet air of the room. She didn’t play Bach’s Air. She played Joanne.

What followed was a blend of technical finesse and raw, aching emotion. A slow, lyrical passage with delicate vibrato, followed by a burst of rhythm that danced between classical and folk. Her bow sang. Her fingers told stories.

People leaned forward. Some closed their eyes. Philip looked on with his arms crossed, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Christina’s eyes glistened.

And Jeffrey—he couldn’t look away. His heart was bursting. She was more than impressive. She was art.

When the last note dissolved into silence, there was a stillness in the room that felt sacred. The kind of silence that follows awe, not confusion. No one moved, no one breathed, for a heartbeat too long.

Then the room erupted.

Applause. Not polite. Not dutiful. Real. Alive. An explosion of hands and cheers and astonished murmurs. The kind that rises when the impossible happens right before your eyes.

Brianna’s face remained arranged in a practiced smile, as though trying to salvage dignity from the wreckage, but her eyes couldn’t lie. They were wild. Scrambling. Looking for explanations.

Joanne smirked—subtle, but it curled at the corners of her lips like she had expected this exact outcome. Because she had. Her eyes scanned the room, gathering the stunned reactions of the Winchesters and their circle, like gathering trophies. Only one man in the room wasn’t surprised.

Philip.

He sat with his chin lifted, his hands folded over his cane, pride shining brighter than the crystal chandeliers above. Of course she could play. He knew.

Then she looked at Jeffrey.

And he was already looking at her, like he was falling in love all over again.

It set something alight in her heart—something warm and proud and glittering.

I’ll show you more, my love.

She stepped forward again. "That was something of my music," she said, her voice soft but ringing clear. "Now, onto the music of the greats..."

She lifted another sheet from the music stand and rested it delicately before her. The violin was already in her hands, her posture straight and elegant. She turned her head, ever so slightly, to catch Jeffrey’s eye again.

"This one’s for you, my love," she whispered with a wink.

Then came César Franck’s Violin Sonata in A Major, the final movement—Allegretto poco mosso.

The room fell under the spell again. The melody surged and softened under her fingers, heartbreakingly tender one moment, and richly soaring the next. It was a song of love—of longing and union and promises made beneath stars. Her bow danced with such mastery it was hard to tell where her hand ended and the music began.

Joanne didn’t just play the piece. She spoke through it. She poured every ounce of herself into the music, telling a story without a single word—of love found, of home discovered, of a soul blooming under the sun of belonging.

When she finished, there was another hush. A stillness not from disbelief, but reverence.

Then applause again—but this time with people rising to their feet. Christina clapped with tears in her eyes. Philip tapped his cane to the floor once, a gesture of pride. Fiona gasped and tugged at Liam’s sleeve, mouthing, Did you know she could do that?

Jeffrey stood frozen, almost stunned, his palms slowly coming together. His heart—racing.

Joanne returned to her place beside him with a glowing grace, her cheeks warm, her fingers still tingling with the vibrations of the strings.

Philip scanned the room with a victorious gleam. See? This is the girl I chose for my grandson. His eyes landed on Robert and Brianna, daring them to speak.

Jeffrey turned to Joanne, eyes wide. "How?" he asked, stunned. That was all he could manage. She’d always surprised him, but this? This was on another level.

Joanne leaned close, laughing. "Fabrizio Liandri—you remember the name? The famous classical violinist? He stayed with us when I was eight... I think? He was a paying guest at our place."

Jeffrey blinked, his brows raised. "What?"

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