Chapter 24: Chapter XXIV
Ariana sat cross-legged on the cream-colored sofa in her temporary accommodation, Callum’s Manhattan apartment, her phone pressed to her ear. The morning sun poured in through the tall glazed windows, but its warmth barely reached her.
Her fingers played with the hem of her oversized sweater as she listened attentively to the nurse on the other end of the line.
“Yes,” Ariana said, her voice hushed, “I just wanted to confirm the updates on Charlie’s surgery.”
“Yes, Ms. Cruze. The procedure is scheduled for tomorrow. Dr. Lincoln was able to clear his calendar for tomorrow morning,” the nurse replied kindly. “We’ll send over the pre-op instructions later today.”
“Thank you. Really. I appreciate all the help my sister has gotten.” Ariana’s voice faltered slightly, but she steadied it. “And please tell Dr. Lincoln thank you, too.”
“Of course. We’ll take good care of her.”
When the call ended, Ariana exhaled slowly, her hand lingering on the phone. The relief of having a confirmed date for her sister’s surgery was a small form of comfort in the whirlwind of everything else she couldn’t control. Still, the ache in her chest remained—heavy, tired, and tinged with so many unanswered questions.
She leaned back and closed her eyes for a moment before hearing the doorbell ring. She stood up to check who it was then she noticed a sleek black box sitting just outside the door. A delicate pink ribbon wrapped around it, the tag simply reading:
“Thought you could use this. —Cal”
Her brows lifted in surprise. She hadn’t expected any delivery.
Carefully, she untied the ribbon and opened the box to reveal a brand-new Mac laptop—ultra-thin, sleek,elegant and unmistakably expensive. For a moment, she simply stared at it, touched by the unexpected gesture yet conflicted over the weight of everything left unsaid between them.
He’d sent her away... but now he was reaching out in small, thoughtful ways. Still trying to make an effort.
With a soft sigh, she pressed the power button, the machine coming to life with ease. As the screen glowed, Ariana hesitated, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. Curiosity took root in her chest, fueled by all the secrets and half-truths Callum carried.
If I’m going to be caught up in his world... I might as well understand it.
She opened a browser and searched up his name.
Callum Guerrero.
Thousands of results flooded the screen. Business articles, event features, gossip blogs. Images of him at different galas, shaking hands with politicians, surrounded by beautiful women in luxury cars. His name was tied to a web of companies: Guerrero Holdings, Cage Lux Nightclubs, real estate investments in various cities.
She clicked on a Forbes article: "The influential Mogul of Manhattan: Inside the Empire of Callum Guerrero."
The profile was extensive—many facts wrapped in speculation. It painted him as cold and ruthless, a man who’d built his empire from inheritance and then tripled it through daring investments. But it was what wasn’t said that intrigued her most.
There was barely any mention of his family. Just a brief quote about his older brother, Alex, the golden child of the Guerrero legacy. No mention of Julian. No mention of past relationships. No cracks in the armor.
She wondered the life he must have lived before she came into the picture.
She closed that tab and clicked on a gossip blog next, half-expecting more fluff. This time, she stumbled upon a timeline of his past relationships. Most were high-profile models or celebrities. Then she saw it—an older post, dated three months ago.
Callum Guerrero spotted leaving Milanna Prestley’s estate in the Hamptons. Sources say the two have been linked on and off for years...
Ariana’s stomach flipped.
She stared at the headline for a long moment, her heart sinking. He had said they were nothing—he’d told her Milanna was in the past. But this wasn’t a distant past. This was recent. Messy and more complicated than she earlier thought.
She closed the laptop, the screen going dark with a soft click. Her reflection stared back at her from the glossy finish—uncertain, vulnerable.
The gift, thoughtful as it was, had opened her eyes to a door of truths she wasn’t ready to confront. And now those truths lingered in the room with her, whispering doubts in her ear.
Still, a part of her wanted to believe him.
But another part—smarter, more cautious—knew that the only way forward was to keep peeling back the layers. She needed to see the full picture if she was going to be part of this.
She glanced at the phone sitting beside her. No new messages from him. No calls.
Her fingers hovered over his contact.
She didn’t press it. Not yet but she knew she need to thank him and deep down she missed the sound of his morning voice.