Chapter 65
Chapter 65
Ariana stood outside the door of her old apartment, the one that still smelled faintly of jasmine and warm vanilla whenever the weather shifted. Her fingers trembled slightly as she turned the key. It had been over twelve weeks—maybe more. Time had lost meaning in the whirlwind of secrecy, stolen moments, and headlines.
The lock clicked open.
She stepped inside slowly, as though walking into a memory. The place hadn’t changed. The cream-colored walls still held her framed prints of abstract art, and the soft light from the windows spilled across the couch she used to curl into with a blanket and a glass of wine. Here, everything was quiet. Untouched.
She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, letting the silence press against her like a balm.
No security cameras. No staff waiting in the wings. No designer dresses lined up in a custom closet. No Callum.
Just herself.
Her heels made soft taps on the wooden floor as she crossed into the living room. She peeled off her coat and tossed it onto the couch before slowly sinking into it. Her phone buzzed in her bag, but she didn’t reach for it. Not yet.
Her eyes scanned the room. There were watermarks on the coffee table from forgotten mugs, and a lone, half-burnt candle sat on the shelf where she’d left it. There was comfort in the mess, in the solitude.
Ariana let out a breath and closed her eyes.
How had it all gotten so heavy?
She’d stepped into Callum’s world like it was a dream, swept into black cars, velvet gowns, diamond-studded appearances and promises of safety. And somehow, in the middle of the chaos, she’d fallen for the man behind the power.
But that world was made of shadows.
Her thoughts spiraled. The headlines. Milanna. The attempted kidnapping. The loaded glances from Julian. The gun she wasn’t supposed to see. And Callum’s silence when she needed something—anything—reassuring about where they were going.
She had given too much of herself too fast.
Now, back in this small apartment that once made her feel like she was building a life on her own terms, she realized how much of that independence had slipped from her grasp.
She sank deeper into the cushions and curled her knees to her chest. Her reflection stared back at her from the darkened TV screen—pensive, worn, and unsure. She hated how much she still wanted him. Hated how one smile from Callum could dissolve her doubt. How his touch turned her rational thoughts to fog.
Her phone buzzed again.
Finally, she reached for it and saw his name on the screen.
Callum: Let me know when you’re safe. I’m giving you space. I’ll wait.
She swallowed hard.
He was trying. That was the problem. He was still trying, and part of her wanted to go running back just for that. But she needed this—for herself.
She didn’t reply.
Instead, she got up and walked toward her small bedroom. The sheets were still the same—soft gray linen, the ones she used to sleep in after long shifts at the gallery, before she ever knew who Callum Guerrero was.
She collapsed onto the bed and curled up, surrounded by the scent of lavender detergent and faint traces of the life she’d paused. Her eyes burned. Her chest ached.
What happens when a man gives you a thousand reasons to fall… but not one to stay?
⸻
The next morning, sunlight streamed through the half-closed blinds. Ariana blinked against it and sat up slowly. Her back ached from sleeping in a position she hadn’t used in weeks. No arms around her. No soft kisses on her shoulder to wake her.
And yet, there was something grounding in it.
She brewed herself coffee—black, no sugar—and leaned against the counter, scrolling through messages she had ignored the night before.
A missed call from Callum. One from Julian.
Even Elena had texted to say she hoped Ariana was okay and that Callum had been tense ever since she left.
Still no word from Charlie. She’d ask the nurses later when she checked in at the hospital.
She took her mug to the window and stood there, watching the world outside—the honking taxis, the people on their morning jogs, the bustle of real life, unfiltered and unaffected by power games and family feuds.
That was the life she used to live. The one that had felt safe, even if it was small. But now she couldn’t un-know what she knew. Couldn’t un-feel what she felt.
Her phone buzzed again.
Elena: “Miss Ariana, there’s something you should know. Please come back today if you can. It’s important.”
Ariana frowned.
Her chest tightened with unease. She dialed back immediately, and Elena picked up on the first ring.
“Elena, what’s wrong?”
The housekeeper hesitated. “I shouldn’t be calling, but… Callum left again early this morning. He didn’t say where, but I overheard him and Julian talking last night. Something’s not right. He’s more anxious than I’ve ever seen him.”
Ariana closed her eyes. “Did he say anything about me?”
“He kept asking if I’d heard from you. I think he’s waiting for you to call.”
She rubbed her temples. “Thanks, Elena. I just… I need a little time. But I’ll be back.”
“Please be careful, Miss. There’s too much going on right now for you to be alone.”
Ariana ended the call, heart pounding. The weight of everything was pressing down again.
She took another sip of coffee, willing her thoughts to slow.
Maybe Callum wasn’t the enemy. But the life that came with him was terrifying. Secrets layered over secrets, and danger in the shadows.
Could she survive loving someone like him?
She reached for her phone again, her finger hovering over his name.
Then she typed.
Ariana: “Hi…Elena called me earlier today. She’s worried about you. Are you good?”
She hit send before she could second guess herself.
And as she stood there, the early morning sky turning gold outside her window, she felt a strange sense of clarity.
If he couldn’t give her peace… she’d have to find it herself. Whether he was still part of that picture or not.