Chapter 31: Chapter 31: Shadow from the past
Melanie raised a brow. “We?”
No one got in without being cleared. No one just “showed up.”
“Work,” she said. “Run Westwood Corp. Be this… billionaire mogul everyone talks about. Does your brain just run on caffeine and contracts?”
She pushed herself up on her elbow, frowning softly. “You’re not dressed.”
Leonard laughed — not his polite chuckle, but something more genuine. “Something like that.”
They descended the steps together, the staff briefly pausing to watch them go. It felt strange, walking beside him like this. Like they were really something.
Later that Morning…
Waiting.
Melanie wasn’t her.
Melanie’s breath caught. “Isn’t she…?”
All he knew was that the sight of her with Leonard made something hollow inside him rage.
Adrian scoffed, pacing by the floor-to-ceiling window of his apartment.
Blocked.
“Do what?”
A figure.
The blanket barely covered her shoulder, her arm curled under the pillow, long hair fanned across the sheets like silk threads spun by moonlight.
Within an hour, her hair was styled in elegant waves, makeup soft and flattering, and the dress she slipped into — a sleek, floor-length black gown — hugged her figure like it had been made for her.
And the past had just come crashing into the present.
She looked different in sleep.
But for now, he just watched her sleep, like a man trying to memorize a prayer he was too afraid to speak aloud.
He couldn’t stand not knowing.
He took a deep breath and forced himself to move again, grounding himself in the present.
Not the guarded smile she gave to strangers.
He was already opening the door.
He didn’t know.
“She looks just as peaceful like…”
He looked up from the coffee cup in his hands. “Good morning to you too.”
Didn’t touch.
The girl stumbled closer. Her face came into focus under the lights.
***
He froze.
Not hearing her voice.
Not to fear.
The sentence trailed, unfinished, but it struck his chest like a blade.
Then she noticed something strange.
He reached out, letting his fingers hover just above her cheek.
“I mean… you’re not in your work clothes.” She squinted at the clock on the wall. “Aren’t you supposed to be… CEO-ing something by now?”
Some still thought it was a business move. Some said it was real.
Leonard chuckled, leaning back in the chair beside the window. “We have somewhere to be. Later today.”
He couldn’t say the name.
“It is.” His voice softened. “But I like building things. I like control.”
This was something else.
He closed his eyes briefly, jaw tight.
A kind of stillness that only came from people who were constantly fighting the world when they were awake.
It was supposed to be a perfect evening.
She leaned forward, eyes curious now. “Seriously. I want to know. What’s your day like? Is it just boardrooms and yelling into phones?”
When Melanie stirred awake, the light in the room had shifted — soft, golden, and gentle against her skin. She blinked slowly, her body reluctant to leave the comfort of the sheets.
If she wouldn’t answer, and Westwood Manor was locked down, there was still one place she had to show up.
Not in his usual tailored suit or pressed shirt. But in a simple grey t-shirt and black lounge pants, sleeves pushed to his elbows, hair slightly tousled.
The memory of her laugh, soft and unsure. Her eyes—hopeful and honest, until he destroyed all of that.
Evening…
Leonard was still there.
The way his chest ached at night.
Outside Westwood Manor…
She narrowed her eyes. “Where?”
She tilted her head. “You don’t seem like someone who likes control. You seem like someone who needs it.”
Melanie nodded slowly. “Sounds exhausting.”
Not seeing her.
Melanie.
Until they reached the gates.
He even considered going to her parents, but that bridge was burnt the moment Melanie walked away.
He’d sent messages.
And somehow, she’d slipped right through his fingers.
Her face was pale. Bruised. Eyes wild with something between fear and desperation.
So maybe… it was time to try somewhere else.
Almost unreal.
Once they were both inside, the car pulled away.
He offered his hand. “Ready?”
But lately… it wasn’t that.
He took. He claimed. He made moves and watched the world bend, even if it cracked on the way down.
But Leonard’s eyes weren’t on the sunrise.
A date for him and Melanie. He would pursue her the right way… Go on dates, have fun, ask her to be his in the right way all ladies loves.
Leonard lifted a brow. “Go ahead.”
It was the silence.
Peace.
“I won’t lose you too.”
This wasn’t the same.
He let his hand linger near her cheek for just a moment longer.
The ghost he still carried.
This silence? This invisible wall between him and Melanie?
But this?
“Get ready for…?”
He sipped his coffee like he hadn’t just dropped an unexpected mystery in the middle of the morning. “Yes. Together.”
Adrian’s POV
Very familiar.
Loyal.
Just before sunset, a knock came at her bedroom door.
But sometimes… in the quiet moments like this, when Melanie wasn’t trying to hold everything together—
Then he whispered,
He’d heard whispers. Seen the news. Melanie… married.
At first, he told himself it was just his ego.
Her lashes were thick and dark. Her lips parted slightly.
When she stepped into the hallway, Leonard was already waiting.
Just watched.
Melanie followed, heart pounding as she stepped into the warm evening air.
Not to death.
Adrian had never been a man who waited for things.
He hadn’t realized she was the most valuable thing he had—until she wasn’t his anymore.
Leonard stayed still, propped slightly against the headboard, watching her like he was afraid she might vanish if he blinked.
Leonard’s POV
***
He thought she’d always be there.
He has plan for her today. He has a date to plan…
Running.
“Can I ask you something?”
Leonard glanced out the window — and frowned.
The past.
Wouldn’t.
And Leonard hated himself for seeing it.
Melanie flopped back onto the pillow. “That’s so annoying.”
That made him pause. Then he gave her a small smile. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Not always.” He set his fork down. “Some days are meetings. Other days, I’m signing off on expansions or reviewing mergers. But a lot of it is planning. Thinking ten steps ahead.”
He leaned forward and gently brushed a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear.
And now she belonged to him.
Harrington Design Institute.
“How do you do it?”
As the car began to roll down the driveway, headlights catching on the winding path, something shifted.
Not to secrets.
Dressed in a sharp black tuxedo, hair neatly styled, he looked every inch the man the world knew. But his eyes… they softened the moment he saw her.
It was driving him insane.
She looked so painfully much like her.
A girl.
The Westwood Manor? Untouchable.
The guilt.
She lay beside him, still fast asleep, her breathing slow and steady.
***
Both Leonard and Melanie froze.
A sleek black car waited outside. Leonard opened the door for her first.
Then she cleared her throat, looking away. “Well… if you ever need an assistant with very average typing speed, let me know.”
Leonard didn’t answer.
But the closer the figure came, the more clearly she could see — torn clothes, dirt-streaked skin, wild hair.
“What if she needs help , she thought.”
Their eyes held for a moment longer than necessary.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Frantic.
“Mr. Westwood will explain.”
“I know. It’s more fun this way.”
Number no longer reachable.
When Melanie opened it, a professional stylist stood waiting with two garment bags and a soft smile. “Good evening, Mrs. Westwood. I’ve been sent to help you get ready.”
Her brow twitched slightly, but she didn’t wake.
She slipped her fingers into his. “I still don’t know where we’re going.”
Not even the steady fire she tried to tuck away when she was hurt.
Not to sabotage.
Not the quiet tension she wore when walking through the manor.
“Leonard, stop the car.”
Leonard smiled into his cup.
He would tell her. Soon.
Running straight for their car.
***
At first, Melanie thought it might be a mistake. Maybe someone had taken a wrong turn.
They were on her.
But it was there, buried beneath his ribcage like a splinter he never removed.
The words escaped in a breath before he caught them.
And familiar.
The soft morning light filtered in through the tall curtains, casting faint golden lines across the marble floor.
Easy.
Breakfast was prepared by the chef — eggs, fresh croissants, a spread of fruit and warm tea. Melanie picked at her plate at first, still not used to being served like this. But the smell was too good to resist.
She looked… like an angel.
He tried calling.
Because he knew exactly who she was.
As they ate, she looked up at him across the table, chin resting in her hand.
That he wanted her back because she’d moved on first. Because she had someone else.
Leonard Westwood.
“You’ll see,” he said with maddening calm.
He smiled softly, eyes taking in the curve of her jaw, the way the sunlight kissed her skin.
