James sat in his car across the street from the apartment building, his hands gripping the steering wheel as he watched Victoria's sleek black sedan pull away from the curb. Only when her taillights disappeared around the corner did he finally exhale the breath he'd been holding. His chest ached with a mixture of relief and devastating loss, knowing that seeing her again would only make leaving impossible.
He waited another ten minutes, ensuring she wouldn't return, before making his way back up to the apartment that had been his sanctuary. The space felt different now, charged with the electricity of their painful-sweet relationship and heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. James moved through the rooms, gathering only what he truly needed. His clothes, his laptop, a few personal items that held meaning beyond their monetary value. Everything else he left behind, remnants of a life that no longer belonged to him.
Standing in the doorway for one last look, James felt the full magnitude of his situation crash over him like a tidal wave. He was starting over from absolute zero. No job, no prospects, no clear direction. At twenty-seven years old, he felt like he was eighteen again, uncertain and afraid of what the future might hold.
His phone buzzed as he loaded his belongings into his car, and his father's name appeared on the screen. For a moment, James considered letting it go to voicemail. He wasn't sure he could maintain a normal conversation when his entire world had just imploded. But the need to hear a familiar, loving voice won out.
"Hey, Dad," he answered, trying to keep his voice steady.
"James! Good to hear from you, son. Your mother was just asking when you and Victoria might visit again. She's been planning a special dinner."
The mention of Victoria's name hit James like a physical blow, and he had to pull over to the side of the road as emotion threatened to overwhelm him.
"Dad, I..." James struggled to find words that wouldn't reveal too much. "How are things with the flower shop?"
They talked for several minutes about mundane family matters, his father's voice warm and comforting in a way that made James's chest tight with homesickness. Finally, his father brought up the question that James had been dreading.
"So tell me about those business proposals you mentioned last time we talked. Any progress with the investors?"
Something in his father's gentle tone broke through James's carefully constructed defenses. The emotional dam he'd been holding back burst, and words poured out of him like a flood.
"They all rejected me, Dad," James said, his voice cracking with the weight of failure and heartbreak. "Every single one. They said my ideas were too ambitious, too risky. Some didn't even bother to review the proposals properly before dismissing them. I thought I had something special, something that could change the gaming industry, but apparently I was just deluding myself."
James found himself spilling everything about the months of rejections, the crushing disappointment, the way each 'no' had chipped away at his confidence until he questioned whether he had any talent at all. What he didn't mention was Victoria's involvement, couldn't bring himself to admit that the woman he loved had been orchestrating his failures from the shadows. That betrayal was too raw, too shameful to voice aloud.
His father listened without interruption, offering only gentle murmurs of understanding. When James finally ran out of words, there was a long pause before his father spoke.
"Son, I want to invest in your project."
James nearly dropped his phone. "Dad, what? You can't be serious. You and Mom run a flower shop. Where would you get that kind of money?"
"James, there are things about my past that I never felt the need to share before, but maybe it's time." His father's voice took on a different quality, more serious than James had ever heard it. "Before I met your mother, before I became a florist, I was in the military for fifteen years. I saved every penny I could, planning for the future, planning for the family I hoped to have someday."
James sat in stunned silence as his father continued.
"I set aside enough money to put both you and Liana through school, from high school through university. But you were both so brilliant, so deserving, that you earned scholarships that covered everything. That money has been sitting in investment accounts for years, growing, waiting for the right moment to help my children achieve their dreams."
"Dad, I can't take your savings," James protested, though his heart was racing with possibility.
"It's not my money anymore, James. It was always meant for you and your sister. This is exactly the kind of moment I was saving for. You have talent, you have vision, and now you have the capital to make it happen. Don't let other people's lack of imagination determine your worth."
James felt tears streaming down his face as the full impact of his father's offer sank in. For the first time since leaving Victoria's apartment, he felt something other than despair. He felt hope.
"Are you sure, Dad? This could be a huge risk."
"The biggest risk is not trying at all. I believe in you, James. I always have."
After several more minutes of emotional conversation, James accepted his father's investment with a gratitude that left him speechless. He spent the rest of the evening making lists, planning, and for the first time in months, believing in himself again.
The next few days blurred together in a whirlwind of activity. James found a modest apartment across town, leased under his father's name to avoid any potential complications. It was small and sparsely furnished, but it was his fresh start. He rented a compact storefront in an up-and-coming tech district, envisioning it as the headquarters of his future empire.
Finding the right assistant proved more challenging than expected until he met Alex Turner, a recent computer science graduate with impressive gaming credentials and an infectious enthusiasm for innovative technology.