Chapter 30: Chapter XXX
The black SUV pulled up outside Milanna Prestley’s sleek Western estate just as the first light of morning sliced across the hills. Callum stepped out, his eyes roaring like iron, dressed in a dark suit that mirrored his mood—controlled rage with a pulse of power running beneath the surface. Julian remained behind the wheel, eyes looking around for threats, but Callum didn’t require backup. Not today.
Milanna ambushed him on the front porch in a silk red robe that glimmered like champagne in the early light. Her smile was sly and seductive, confident in her grip on him.
“I knew you would come.” she purred.
Callum didn’t waste time. “I don’t have time for your games today. This ends now.”
Milanna tilted her head, sipping from a crystal champagne flute. “Still playing the knight? Please, Callum. Spare me the drama. I never knew you had a weakness for beautiful, broken things. This girl—Ariana—is your the latest casualty.”
He stepped closer, voice low. “You leaked a headline meant to destroy her. You brought my personal life into your sick little war. I’m done playing nice. Her sister has nothing to do with this!” He exclaimed.
Milanna’s expression froze at the iciness in his tone. “You think you can just walk away? You think the press will forget about what you’ve done when I leak the real information?”
“No,” Callum said smoothly. “But they’ll remember what your father did at Saint Harbor two years ago. And they’ll eat you both alive.”
She paled, the color draining from her cheeks.
“I have the footage, you were there too” he added, dropping a small flash drive onto her patio table. “You want to play dirty? I own the board. We would both roll in the mud.”
Her hand trembled as she reached for her glass. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“I will,” he said, stepping back. “Unless you disappear. No more press leaks. No more ‘chance’ encounters. If you so much as whisper Ariana’s name again, I won’t just ruin your career—I’ll dismantle your life.”
He turned on his heel and walked back toward the waiting car.
Inside, Julian raised an eyebrow. “That the first strike?”
Callum nodded. “And if she pushes again, the next one won’t be this quiet.”
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Ariana sat in the living room of the apartment, her palms pressed together in silent prayer, her eyes locked on her phone that was placed on the coffee table beside her. The nostalgic sterile scent of antiseptic stung her nose. She remembered the countless hospital nights that led them to this point.
Now Ariana sat alone, wrapped in a sweater far too thin for the emotional chill seeping into her bones.
The past week had been a whirlwind—Callum sending her back with no warning, the quiet distance between their last conversation, the endless warning messages she had received and the way her heart had cracked open when she realized just how much she wanted him there. Needed him there.
But he wasn’t. Not this morning.
Her phone buzzed. It was a message from the hospital liaison:
“Surgery proceeding well. We'll update you as soon as the surgery is completed.”
A sigh of relief escaped her lips. She stood and paced; arms wrapped around herself. Ariana smiled faintly.
Her phone buzzed again.
This time it was from Callum
“Thinking of you and Charlie. I have men securely placed around the hospital so she’s safe. If you need anything don’t hesitate to call me. I’ll be home soon.”
Her throat tightened. He hadn’t forgotten. He hadn’t stayed away entirely. And somehow, that meant more than she wanted to admit.
After another forty minutes, she received another text from the hospital.
“Surgery was a success. Charlie responded well to the procedure. She’ll be in recovery for the next few hours, but we’re optimistic.”
Ariana burst into tears—not from sadness, but from sheer emotional release. Relief, joy, exhaustion—they tangled together in a sob as the weight lifted from her chest.
She sent a message thanking the doctor and the entire team that looked after her sister. With hands trembling, then sent a quick message to Callum.
“The doctors said It went well. She’s currently in recovery but she’s going to be okay.”
Seconds later, her phone rang. It was him.
“Hi, the doctors just called. The surgery went well and now she’s in recovery.” she whispered.
“Wow that’s such good news” Callum’s voice was low and rough. “I’ve been pacing the floor since I saw your message that she was in surgery. I wanted to be there.”
“You were,” she said softly. “In your own way.”
They didn’t say much more. For now, just hearing each other’s breath across the line was enough.
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Ariana sat by the tall window of Callum’s penthouse, wrapped in a thick fluffy throw blanket, watching the rain drizzle down the window panes. The call from the doctor had just ended—her sister was out of surgery, and it had gone well. Relief had washed over her so intensely that she hadn’t realized she was crying until her cheeks felt cold.
It should have been a moment of pure joy, but instead, she felt this unfamiliar tug in her chest. She was grateful, yes, but also…lonely. Exhausted. And the person she kept thinking about, the one she wanted to tell everything to, wasn’t her sister or anyone back home.
It was Callum.
He hadn’t been back to the penthouse like he said he would. She’d told herself it was good—she needed space, time to think, to focus on her sister. But now, with the storm outside and the silence inside, she ached in a way she couldn’t explain. Her fingers hovered over her phone, tempted to text him, just something simple.
But the front door opened before she could.
Her breath caught.
Callum.
He stood in the doorway, removing his coat slowly, raindrops clinging to his dark hair, the collar of his shirt slightly damp. He looked tired, but his gaze was locked on her, sharp and searching.
“I came back as soon as I could,” he said, voice low.
“You didn’t have to—” she started, but he crossed the room before she could finish.
“I wanted to.” His hand reached out, brushing a damp lock of hair from her cheek. “Julian has been updating me about the hospital security. How’s she doing?”
Ariana gave him a watery smile. “She’s okay. The doctors said it went better than expected. I’m just…relieved.”
Callum nodded, then took a step back. “Come with me. There’s something I want to show you.”
Confused but curious, Ariana stood, wrapping the blanket tighter around herself and followed him down the hall. The formal dining room lights were dimmed, replaced with flickering candlelight. A small, private dinner was set for two—champagne flutes, silver lids covering the plates, and soft jazz humming from somewhere in the background.
Her eyes widened.
“You did this?”
“I figured you might not have eaten,” he said with a slight shrug, but there was something different in his voice. Warmer. Gentler. “And I didn’t want you to be alone tonight.”
She swallowed, her throat tightening. “Callum…”
He pulled out a chair for her. “Sit. Just for a bit.”
They dined quietly at first. It was comforting—the scent of garlic butter and grilled vegetables, the warmth of the candles, the way his leg brushed hers under the table from time to time. Eventually, she asked, softly, “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Disappear. Then show up like this.”
He set his glass down, looking down at his plate. “It’s complicated.”
“You’re complicated.”
Callum chuckled, low and rough. “Fair enough.”
There was silence for a beat, then he looked up. “My mother used to light candles like this when my father would come home late. I hated the way she’d pretend everything was okay just to keep up appearances. But now… sometimes I find myself doing the same thing. Pretending things are simple when they’re not.”
Ariana’s eyes softened. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”
He met her gaze, something raw flickering behind his.
They didn’t speak again for a long moment. Then, gently, she said, “Would you…stay with me tonight? Just sleep beside me?”
Callum straightened slightly.
“I don’t mean anything else. It’s just…after everything, the surgery, the waiting… I don’t want to be alone. Not tonight.”
He nodded slowly. “Of course.”