Return Of The Ghost

Lily’s POV

They shot my father first. Then my mother. Then Clara. I was only seventeen, and I should have died with them.

Instead, I heard a name whispered in the dark before everything went black.

Adrian Hastings.

Five years later, I was flying back into the city that took everything from me.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Calderm City. The local time is 9:45 a.m. Please remain seated until the seatbelt sign is switched off.”

The hostess’s voice came through the speakers, and everyone around me started moving, unbuckling seatbelts and reaching for their bags. I sat still for a moment, staring at the seat in front of me. My chest felt tight as I thought... this was it. I was really back.

When the light finally went off, I got up slowly, clutching my Louis Vuitton bag close to me. The people around me looked normal, tired parents with kids, businesspeople scrolling through their phones, tourists carrying neck pillows. Nobody knew that for me, this wasn’t just another flight. This was me walking back into the past I had been running from for five years.

Stepping off the plane, the rush of air from the jet bridge hit me. My heart thudded harder than it had ever done for the past five januaries to ever exist. Calderm City. The city where I had once been happy. The city where I had lost everything. The city where I had died, at least in the eyes of the world.

I kept my sunglasses on as I walked through the airport lobby. Nobody gave me a second glance the way they used to. No selfies. No one shouting my name. No family waiting at the exit doors.

The only person standing there was Charles, my assistant, wearing an all-black suit with his tuxedo collar pulled tight around his neck.

“Welcome back, ma’am,” he said softly, holding the car door open. “C’mon in.”

The way he held it reminded me of my father, who used to do the same while my mother, Clara, and Damian waited in the car to pull me into a hug the second I got close. I stood there a moment too long, my eyes fixed on the empty seats, fighting back tears no one could see under my shades.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice smaller than I meant it to be.

Charles shut the door and moved to the front. The chauffeur pulled off.

“Where are we headed?” I asked, scrolling through the latest press on Adrian Atelier. Adrian had just won Couture Designer of the Season. My finger hovered over his photo.

That man. The reason I had returned to this city. I came back to show him why no one crosses the Graysons and walks away clean. I needed him on his knees before me. Mercy wasn’t part of the plan, and that decision would never change.

“The penthouse, ma’am,” Charles said. “One of the properties you built while you were away.”

“I want to visit the family house,” I said, sliding the phone back into my bag.

Charles hesitated. “Ma’am… the house was demolished a year ago. It’s farmland now.”

“What?” I met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “What did you just say?”

“Adrian Hastings bought it. It’s a field now. Cotton, wool, silk, flax, for fabric production.”

My chest tightened. He’d had the nerve to buy my father’s land. And Charles still sometimes asked if I was sure Adrian was behind the massacre. At this point I should have been in tears but none came. Only the same cold pressure that never left.

“Take me to the mansion instead,” I said.

The butler and five housekeepers greeted me warmly when we arrived. Six staff in total, and the first thing I thought was that they’d all need to be transferred or let go. Living like a flashy heiress wasn’t going to work if I was about to walk into Adrian’s company as nobody.

“Have them transferred to the penthouse or the company,” I told Charles. “I’ll be in my room. I don’t want to be disturbed.”

He nodded and left.

I dropped onto the bed with a heavy sigh. This city was full of my family’s ghosts, and I hated being back in it. I couldn’t wait to feed Adrian from the same plate he’d fed me.

I pulled out my phone and searched Adrian Atelier’s careers page, finding an opening for Data Analyst. It wasn't a role I would want, but it was close enough to start. For five years I had built exactly what I needed for this moment: five degrees, a financial company with global reach, enough assets to disappear into if I ever needed to. All of it for this.

“Five years,” I murmured, “of nothing but this.”

Sleep took me before I finished the thought.

I was back in our house. It was my seventeenth birthday, and everyone was there except Damian, who hadn’t arrived yet. The cake was cut, and the wine poured despite his absence. Laughter filled the room as they merrily sang a birthday song to me. Then suddenly something else popped.

My father’s head, blown open as the men stormed in.

My mother fought them and took a bullet for it. Clara and I screamed, thinking it was over, until they dragged her toward them. They took turns with her while I begged. Then they shot her too.

They meant to kill me next, but my body gave out before they could; darkness swallowing me first. They must have assumed I was already gone, because they left. But before they did, I heard a name pass between them.

Adrian Hastings.

I didn’t understand it then. What I only knew was that he had been my father’s best friend before something turned their friendship into a grave.

I jolted awake to my phone ringing. I grabbed it, figuring out it was an unknown number, but it was cut off before I could answer.

After a few minutes, a message followed as my phone chimed. I opened it. It was an interview invite from Adrian Atelier.

A slow smile spread across my face.

The universe was finally on my side.