Chapter 56

Chapter 56
Milanna moved across the room slowly, like a cat stalking something delicate and wild. “I know what you’re trying to do, Callum. This isn’t your style. Sending flowers to the press. Paparazzi moments. Courthouse weddings? That’s not the man who once burned a competitor’s yacht to the ground for fun.”

He said nothing.

She stopped in front of him, close enough for the scent of her perfume—jasmine and danger—to lace into his breath. “So what is this? An act? Or are you actually in love with the little stray you picked off the street?”

Callum’s eyes darkened. “Careful.”

Milanna smiled. “There it is. The old fire.”

She stepped back, poured herself a glass of scotch, then poured him one too. She held it out with manicured fingers, the ice clinking softly.

“I’m not your enemy, Callum. At least, I don’t want to be.” Her voice turned velvety, slippery. “You and I—we could still be something. Real power. Not this charity-cased, bleeding-heart image you’re trying to build.”

Callum didn’t reach for the drink. “You’re not offering power. You’re offering distraction.”

Milanna walked to the couch and perched on the edge, letting the robe slip down one shoulder. “I’m offering you a reminder of who you were before she made you soft. You used to run this city like it was your personal game board. Now?” She gestured vaguely. “Now you’re playing house.”

“I’m playing long-term.”

Milanna laughed. “That’s cute.”

Silence settled thickly between them. She reached for her glass and sipped, then set it down and looked at him through half-lidded eyes.

“You know,” she said quietly, “you wouldn’t have come here if there wasn’t some part of you that still wanted me. Missed this.” Her voice dropped as she stood again. “We were fire, Callum.”

She stepped closer—too close—and ran a hand down his chest, her fingers curling over the lapel of his jacket.

Callum didn’t move.

“You think you’re protecting her, but you’re dragging her into something she doesn’t understand. And when it falls apart—and it will—you’ll need someone who knows how to survive in the wreckage.”

Her lips brushed the shell of his ear. “I’m that someone.”

Then she kissed him.

Callum’s body stiffened. For a second, just a breath, he didn’t pull away.

Then he gripped her shoulders and shoved her back, hard enough to make her stumble slightly.

“Don’t mistake silence for submission,” he said coldly. “This was a mistake.”

Milanna’s eyes gleamed—not with hurt, but with calculation. “Is that what you’ll tell her? Or are you going to lie to her face like you’re lying to yourself now?”

He stepped back toward the door.

“This is the only warning you’ll get, Milanna,” he said, voice ice. “Stay out of my life. And stay away from Ariana.”

She didn’t respond. Just picked up her drink and smiled.

“You’re already unraveling, Callum. The cracks are showing. And when it breaks—”

He didn’t wait for her to finish.

He left the suite, the door slamming shut behind him.

Back in the elevator, his phone buzzed.

A message from an unknown number.

"You think the Prestleys are your only problem? You're not watching your left flank. You should be."

Callum stared at the message, a chill settling into his bones.

And for the first time in weeks, he wasn’t sure who the real enemy was.

..........................

The hospital corridors were quieter than usual. Ariana lingered a little longer at the hospital than she'd planned. The corridor outside Charlie's room was even more quiet, save for the faint hum of machines and muffled conversations from the nurses' station. She stood with Charlie's lead physician, a kind-eyed woman who had become a comforting presence these past few days.

Ariana’s fingers curled tightly around the disposable coffee cup as she sat in the consultation room, listening to Dr. Hendrix outline Charlie’s progress.

"She's responding better than we expected," the doctor said. "If things stay on track, we can begin gentle physiotherapy within a week."

Her little sister was doing better—her vitals were stable, and the worst of the surgery’s aftermath had passed. According to the scans, physiotherapy could begin within a week.

Relief flooded Ariana's chest, loosening a tension she'd carried for too long. She nodded. "Thank you, Doctor. That means everything."

Ariana nodded along, but her mind was fractured. The attempted kidnapping still echoed in her memory—the man’s grip on her wrist, the rush of fear, Julian appearing like a shadow from nowhere, gun drawn. She hadn’t spoken to Callum about it. Not yet. But the questions swirled like a storm in her chest.

“Thanks, Doctor,” she said quietly as she stood. “Let me know as soon as she’s awake.”

Ariana returned to Charlie's room and watched her younger sister sleep peacefully. There was still color missing from her cheeks, but she looked better. Stronger. Ariana brushed a hand over Charlie's forehead, then kissed it gently before slipping out.