Chapter 37: Chapter XXXVII

The sun was just beginning to go down behind the Manhattan skyline, casting a soft golden hue over the sleek black car waiting to take them back to the penthouse. The windows dimmed as they slid into the backseat, a bubble of quiet between them after the tense visit to his mother’s home. Ariana exhaled slowly, her fingers toying with the edge of her clutch.

Callum watched her for a moment before speaking. “You handled yourself well back there,” he said, voice low and genuine.

She offered a faint smile, still distracted. “Thanks. I think she might like me a little more than she lets on.”

Callum chuckled. “That’s high praise, coming from her. You’re already ahead of most people.”

Ariana turned her head toward him, her expression softening. “Is she always like that? Cold and… calculating?”

Callum hesitated. “She’s… old money. She has a very specific idea of how things should look. Who should be around us.”

“And I don’t fit the mold,” Ariana finished for him.

“You don’t need to,” he said firmly, reaching for her hand. “You’re not here to please her.”

They lapsed into silence for a beat, her fingers tightening slightly around his. “Can I ask you something?” she said quietly.

He nodded.

“What does this all look like after the marriage? When the press backs off. When the headlines die down. Do I go back to my life and you go back to yours?”

Callum’s gaze flicked to her, something unreadable in his eyes. “Is that what you want?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Everything feels real and fake all at once. And sometimes I think I want out… but then I remember what it feels like when it’s just us. Like that night in California. Or when you stayed on the phone with me until I fell asleep.”

Callum didn’t respond right away. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a thin velvet box. Her breath caught.

“I was going to wait until dinner,” he murmured. “But maybe now’s better.”

He handed her the box. Ariana opened it slowly, revealing a new ring—simpler than the one she wore for show, but elegant. Real. It shimmered with a single oval diamond and a delicate gold band.

“That one’s not for the cameras,” he said. “That one’s for when it’s just us.”

Ariana’s throat tightened. “Callum…”

“I’m not asking for forever,” he added. “But if this thing between us keeps getting more complicated, I need to know it’s not just smoke and mirrors for you either.”

She closed the box gently, holding it in both hands. “It’s not.”

Their eyes met, and something hung between them—a fragile truth, spoken in silence.

Before she could say more, Callum’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and frowned. “It’s Julian,” he muttered, answering with a clipped, “What is it?”

There was a pause. Ariana couldn’t hear the other end, but she saw the way Callum’s body went still.

“You’re sure?” he asked.

Another pause.

“Send it to me. Now.”

He ended the call, eyes darkening.

“What happened?” Ariana asked.

Callum turned toward her slowly. “There’s something I need to show you. But not here.”

“Is it about Milanna?”

“No,” he said grimly. “It’s about someone worse.”

He pulled up an email on his phone and tilted it toward her. A blurred image came into focus—security footage, dated a few days ago, from a private building Callum owned in the city. The time stamp matched a night he and Ariana had been at a charity dinner.

In the grainy image, a man in a long coat appeared in the hallway. He was partially turned, but Ariana could make out his features—stern, cold, and vaguely familiar.

“Who is that?” she asked.

“Charles Prestley,” Callum said. “Milanna’s father.”

Her eyes widened. “What does her father have to do with all these?”

“He has a lot to do with this and he’s back. And clearly looking for something. Or someone.”

Ariana sat back against the leather seat, pulse quickening. “Does he know about me?”

“He will, if he doesn’t already.” Callum’s jaw flexed. “He built his empire by ruining reputations. If he’s sniffing around again, it’s not just to make idle threats.”

Ariana looked at the screen again, then up at Callum. “Why now?”

Callum’s expression darkened. “Because he thinks I’ve gone soft. That putting you in the spotlight made me weak. He’s testing me.”

“And what are you going to do?”

Callum leaned back in the seat, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “I’m going to remind him who I am.”

They pulled up to his building, the car coming to a smooth stop. Callum didn’t move right away. Instead, he turned back to her. “I need you to be careful, Ariana.”

“I can take care of myself,” she said.

“I know you can. But I need you to let me take care of you too.”

The honesty in his voice startled her. It wasn’t a command or a challenge—it was a plea.

“I don’t want to be the reason you get hurt,” he added.

She reached over and touched his hand. “Then don’t shut me out. Whatever this is, we handle it together.”

He gave her a faint nod, but something about his expression said the battle lines were being redrawn.

Upstairs, the air was still, the weight of the moment hanging between them. She excused herself to change, needing a minute to process everything. When she returned to the living room, he was staring out the window, the velvet box still in his hand.

“Do you ever regret getting involved with me?” she asked softly from behind him.

Callum turned. “Every day,” he said.

Her chest tightened.

“But not because of you,” he finished. “Because of the world I pulled you into.”

Ariana stepped closer, slipping the real ring onto her finger. “Then let’s make it worth it.”

The looked into each other’s eyes but didn’t kiss. The air between them sizzled with something deeper.

And just as they sat down on the couch, Callum’s phone buzzed again. He picked it up, scanning the message—and froze.

“What is it?” Ariana asked.

He showed her the screen. A single line stared back at them:

“You can’t protect her forever. –C.P.”