Chapter 25

Four years had passed since Amelia walked away from them, leaving a number of questions unanswered, but she seemed to remain as real as the shadow that refused to grow fainter with the passing of time.

The imposing structure of the Rodriguez estate stood tall, exuding an aura of restless triumph. The great living room sparkled in the soft light of the afternoon sun, with chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and gilded furniture. The delicate clinking of fine china punctuated the air as Beatrice poured herself a cup of tea, her movements exact, calculated. Across from her, Catherine leaned back on the velvet couch, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips as she crossed her legs.

The estate had finally returned to its state of tranquility- or their version of tranquility, at least. Amelia was gone.

Beatrice stirred her tea with languor, watching the golden liquid swirl inside the porcelain cup. "I must say, dear," she began, her voice like silk, "I had my doubts, but this turned out better than I expected.

Catherine laughed as she reached for a dainty biscuit and chewed with slow relish. "Didn't I tell you, Mother? That girl never had the backbone to stand up to real pressure. She had nowhere else to go, and she ran anyway. Pathetic."

Beatrice sipped at her tea with caution. "And Ronald? Has he said anything?"

Catherine huffed, throwing a glance upward with her eyes. "He hasn't mentioned her. Once." She cocked her head, considering. "But it shows in his eyes. He is restless and not paying attention to anything as carefully as he would. It gets on his nerves, only he won't acknowledge it. "

Beatrice's lips moved in a languid smile. "Good. Let him stew on it awhile. Let him finally understand just how weak she was, just how unworthy.

Catherine clicked her nails onto the porcelain plate, a thinking expression crossing her face. "I must say, though. I didn't expect her to disappear into nothingness. Without messages, farewells- nothing. Nothing like her.

Beatrice's eyes narrowed. "That is what makes it so perfect. If she were to stay close, there would always be a chance of her coming back. But now, with her gone, she has removed herself from the picture." She set the teacup down with a light clink. "And now, we move forward."

Catherine cocked her head. "With what exactly?

The glint in Beatrice's eyes sparkled. "Wellington Holdings, of course. With Jake gone, Amelia out of the way, and Ronald too consumed with his own burdens, the company is in a precarious position. It's time we took full advantage of that."

A satisfied silence stretched between them before Catherine let out a delighted laugh. "Mother," she mused, "you truly are brilliant.

Beatrice took her cup once more, raising it slightly in a toast. "To Amelia's disappearance," she said, her voice as smooth as honey, "and to the empire we are about to claim."

Their laughter echoed down the grand halls of the Rodriguez estate.

On the other side of town, at the heart of Wellington Holdings, Ronald sat amidst his wide office space with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the skyline. His father had built an empire, and although still standing, its foundation showed a few hairline cracks.

Across from him was Mr. Raphael, his father's closest friend and longtime advisor to the company. The gray around his hairline and his sharp eyes surveyed Ronald with silent intensity.

"You look tired," Raphael said as if carrying an echo of a thousand conversations in his voice.

Ronald released a deep sigh, rubbing his temple. "I don't have the luxury of rest, Raphael.

Raphael leaned back in his chair, folding his hands. "Then let's not waste time with pleasantries. We have a problem, Ronald. The company is under scrutiny. Ever since Jake's passing, investors are getting nervous. We lost one of our own, and it's affecting confidence."

Ronald's jaw clenched. "I'm aware."

Raphael didn't mince words. "Being aware isn't enough. You need to act. Fast. If you don't get ahead of this, they'll find a way to make you look incompetent."

Ronald's fingers drummed against the desk. "The company was built on strength. It will not fall over a single tragedy.

Raphael's eyes shaded. "It isn't only Jake's death that is raising this turmoil. The legal case with Amelia still remains to be settled. Mutterings, Ronald. They think Wellington Holdings is. unpredictable."

Ronald snorted. "Unpredictable because of a woman?"

"Unpredictable because it's out of control," Raphael corrected. "And out-of-control situations can't be exploited. If you don't start making your chess moves now, you will certainly find yourself up against the wall. And at that time.

Ronald did not say a word; his mind was a storm brewing. He had spent years making sure that at no time could emotions get hold of him, keeping him enslaved. Yet suddenly, an unheard-of feeling churned in the pit of his stomach.

Missing was Jake-just everywhere, his presence loud, commandeering, space-filling. and now. nothing.

Amelia's leaving was a whole different story. He should have felt relieved, indifferent. Yet, this absence left a space he couldn't quite explain.

Raphael studied him closely before continuing. "What is your next step, Ronald?"

Ronald let out a slow breath as his face hardened. "I will not allow them to win."

Raphael nodded in approval. "Then make sure your actions prove that."

The argument gave way to a strained silence. Outside, the city didn't miss a beat, all unknowing of the war developing within Wellington Holdings.

*****

Across town in the darkening study of the Rodriguez estate, Amelia's father, Mr Rodriguez, sat opposite his wife, Beatrice. Thick cigar smoke still hung in the air, curling above a whiskey glass as he twirled it between his fingers.

Beatrice watched him with thinly veiled impatience. "You've been brooding ever since she left."

Rodriguez took a slow sip, eyes fixed on the fireplace. "She was my daughter."

Beatrice let out a sharp laugh. "And? She was weak. Foolish. A disgrace to this family."

Rodriguez grip tightened on the glass. "She was your daughter too."

"She was an embarrassment," Beatrice corrected coldly. "You know that as well as I do.

Rodriguez ran a hand through his graying hair. "Perhaps. But she was still my blood."

Beatrice leaned forward, eyes flashing. "Blood means nothing if it's useless. She abandoned everything. And you—" she exhaled sharply, "you let her."

Rodriguez let out a humorless chuckle. "And yet, you act as if her leaving has no effect on you."

Beatrice's lips curled. "It doesn't."

Rodriguez watched her for the longest time then shook his head. "You never did have a heart, Beatrice."

She sneered. "And you never had a spine."

There was complete silence between them, save for the crackling of the fire outside.

His voice this time was softer. "She will come back."

Beatrice snorted. "What makes you think that?"

"Because the past does not let go-wherever that may be, it will just not let one go.".

Beatrice's face didn't change, but something danced in her eyes. She rose, smoothing the folds of her dress. "Well, when that day comes," she murmured, "I hope for her sake, she's ready."

She quit the study, her heels clicking against the marble floor, leaving Jonathan to his thoughts.

Outside, a wind howled against the windows, carrying on it whispered secrets of a past refusing to stay buried.

*******

The city moved forward, while the people in it were stuck between their own wars.

Beatrice gloated over their victory; Amelia's disappearance had secured their top position.

Then—

A knock reverberated through the large Rodriguez mansion.

Firm. Slow.

Beatrice, still wrapped in her satisfaction, turned a glance at Catherine before getting up to see who was at the door.

As the door creaked, her smirk froze.

Her eyes widened.

And for the first time in years, Beatrice Rodriguez felt something she hadn't in a long time.

Nerves.

Because standing in the doorway was not just anyone.

It was someone from their past-someone whose presence carried with it more than just memories. He had come back for something.

He stepped forward, and Beatrice's breath caught in her throat.

"You've been expecting me," he said in a voice steady as the tempest they'd bring with them.