CALLUM'S POV
✧✧✧
I've always been a magnet for bad decisions, but this one—sitting in the back of this car, heading back to the city I swore off like a bad addiction— I know this one takes the crown.
The drizzle-fogged windows made the landscape look like a memory I didn't ask to revisit.
The car moved like a silent tank, gliding through the rain, swallowing up miles and closing the gap between me and the past. Lost in thought, I barely registered the poke of a pen against my side until a voice cut through the static.
"Mr. Sterling."
I blinked. My secretary, Taffy, had just ended a call and was giving me her signature look — the one that said she already knew I hadn't heard a word she spoke. Today, she's in her favourite burgundy suit, dark curls framing a face currently set in a "warning" expression behind her glasses.
"I'm guessing you weren't listening," she said, dry enough to sand wood. "Meetings are pushed to tomorrow night. You're welcome. After that, you'll finally be able to enjoy your sister's wedding without the constraints of work."
Silence.
She paused, arching a skeptical bleached eyebrow. "That's supposed to be a good thing, though your face looks like I just sentenced you."
I didn't dignify that with a response. Instead, I traced the outline of my cigarette case. I craved a drag, but the thought of Taffy's inevitable lecture was enough to give me a premature migraine.
I tuned back in, instantly regretting it, because she was touching on the one subject I wanted to avoid. "It took your sister's wedding to drag you back home, after all," she continued, accustomed to my silence.
I just watched the scenery blur, racing toward a house—a home? Could I still call it that after so long?
Taffy sighed, realizing I wasn't going to engage on this topic. She knows me too well to drop it, which is the major drawback of having your best friend as your secretary.
She turned off her tablet with a sharp click and reached out, her fingers briefly touching my wrist before recoiling as if I were a hot stove. Taffy dislikes physical contact. That observation was a moment of clarity.
"Hey," she said, her voice softening with genuine concern. "I know this is a silly question, but are you all right? I know, it's been a while."
"Six years isn't 'a while,' Taffy," I finally managed, the words scraping my throat. I tore my gaze from the street chaos to her. "I shouldn't be here." My fingers tightened around the cigarette case, lecture be damned.
"And what? Miss your sister's wedding?" she shot back with a flash of sass. "I'm not a mind reader, but I'm pretty sure you'd hate yourself if you missed it."
"Like I don't already," I muttered under my breath.
I sighed, finally pulling my hand away from the cigarette case like it had burned me.
"What do you expect me to feel, Taffy? Ecstatic? Grateful that I'm being dragged back to the last place on earth I want to be?"
She didn't flinch. "I get it. But your family doesn't know how bad it got. Callum, you left with literally the clothes on your back and a one-way ticket to Singapore. You didn't even tell them goodbye."
I scoffed, the sound bitter even to my own ears. "They wanted me in the family business. I did exactly what they asked. I stayed. I ran the Singapore branch. What more did they want?"
Taffy flung a hand in the air, the gesture sharp enough to cut glass. "Stop it. Stop pretending this is about company politics. You were spiralling long before you got on that plane. You made everyone worry themselves sick, and then you made it worse by disappearing for six years."
"They don't understand," I said, quieter now.
"They don't understand because you never let them," she fired back. "Hell, you won't even let me in, and I've been cleaning up your messes since we were thirteen. If I hadn't followed you to Singapore, you wouldn't speak to me either. Look me in the eye right now and tell me I'm lying."
I couldn't.
Because she wasn't.
I had never said it out loud how grateful I was that she never left, never stopped showing up, never stopped dragging me back from the edge even when I made it impossible.
"Thank you, Taff," I said, voice rough. "I mean it."
She huffed, face sliding back into its usual blank mask, but her brows stayed pinched — the only crack in the armour. "You better."
The car fell quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioner.
Then she broke it again, softer this time. "We're just worried about you, Callum. We care. I care." She emphasized the last word like it hurt to say. I met her onyx eyes — darker than usual, even in the gray afternoon light.
"I know," I said quietly.
She cleared her throat, flipped her tablet open, and the moment folded itself away like it had never happened. "We can't keep your arrival off their radar forever," She said, already back to business-sharp. "Enjoy the next few hours of silence, because by tonight your parents will know you're back."
The car slowed down in front of a glass tower. I stared up at the penthouse I should have sold years ago. The windows were like a reflection, dark, empty, and waiting.
Then I noticed, it was now raining.