Chapter 22— Ghost of The Past

Raphael’s POV

After discussing the introduction plans and the people Gramps wanted in attendance, I sighed inwardly. He insisted on inviting numerous prestigious figures from around the world. I had tried to dissuade him, but, as expected, he refused to budge. Eventually, I gave up trying to convince him. Maybe she would come to understand that this wasn’t just a contract to me—it was so much more.

I loved her.

But I knew I couldn’t start preaching about love. Not after what Marcel had done to her. Not after what my family had done to her.

This contract marriage, with the promise of revenge, was the only way I could have her. I was lucky to have even seen her again after our brief encounter at the bar.

"Hey, son, are you alright?"

Gramps’ voice pulled me from my thoughts. I looked up to see both him and Grandma Audrey watching me closely.

I forced a smile. "Yes, I am."

"I don’t think you are," Grandma said, her gaze unwavering. "You look like there’s a pile of thoughts running through your head."

She still had it. She never missed when something was wrong.

"I’m fine, Grandma," I reassured her. "Whatever it is, I’ll figure it out soon enough." This time, I smiled genuinely.

"I hope it’s not because of the introduction," she pressed.

"Oh, come on, Gramps. That’s not the issue," I said, shaking my head. "Though I’d be glad if we could tone it down a little. You know, maybe cut down the list of invited guests?"

Gramps chuckled. "That’s not going to happen, grandson."

"You are our favorite," Grandma added, placing her warm hand over my clenched fist, which rested on the table.

I laughed, shaking my head. "Okay, I give up. I definitely can’t win against you two."

"I’m glad you know that," Gramps said, amused.

The conversation shifted. We spoke about other matters, mostly business. Gramps told me how Marcel had been driving the company into losses lately.

"I’m glad you came back, Gramps," I said sincerely.

"You don’t have to thank me, son," he replied. "It’s something I should have done sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t."

Gramps shook his head. "No, son. We are the ones who should be sorry—for allowing your parents to treat you like trash, for letting them neglect you."

Grandma lowered her head, her expression full of regret. "We shouldn’t have let that happen," she murmured.

"It is our fault, child," Gramps added solemnly.

I clenched my jaw, irritation flaring inside me. I hated being reminded of those times.

As Gramps opened his mouth to say more, I cut him off.

"Please, Gramps. Don’t say more."

I didn’t need to relive that pain. Not now. Not ever.

"But Ralph—"

"Gramps!" I cut him off, my voice sharper than I intended.

His face fell, but I sighed, forcing myself to calm down. "I’m sorry, child," he murmured.

I ran a hand through my hair and exhaled. "I’m sorry, Gramps, for yelling. But I have to go to bed now. Thanks, Grandma, for the food."

Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked away, feeling their worried gazes burning into my back.

As soon as I entered the room—the same room I had always stayed in whenever I visited Gramps all those years ago—I froze. It looked exactly the same.

My fingers traced the wooden shelf near the bed. Not a single speck of dust. They must have been cleaning it for the past twenty years, hoping—praying—that one day I would return.

And here I was.

Standing in the room that used to be my refuge.

Back then, whenever I was running from my own mind—running from the moments that tried to break me—this room had been my shelter. But it also held so many sad memories. For one. For me.

I inhaled sharply, my chest tightening. Maybe staying the night wasn’t a good idea.

But how was I supposed to tell Gramps and Grandma that I was thinking of leaving? That even after all this time, I still hadn’t let go of the past? That, despite everything I had achieved—the billionaire I had become, the walls I had built—I was still haunted?

No child should have to go through what I did.

I stood there, lost in thought, torn between staying and walking out, when a soft knock sounded at the door.

The doorknob creaked.

I had forgotten to lock it.

I turned, and there stood Gramps, watching me with quiet concern.

Gramps lingered in the doorway, his sharp eyes scanning my face as if searching for answers I wasn’t ready to give. He didn’t step inside right away. He just stood there, his fingers gripping the doorknob, his presence calm but unwavering.

"You always had that look when you were younger," he finally said.

I swallowed. "What look?"

"The one that says you want to disappear," he answered. "That you’d rather run than stay and face what’s in front of you."

I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. "Maybe some things never change."

He sighed and finally stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "Son, I know you don’t want to talk about the past, and I won’t force you to. But you don’t have to carry it alone. Not here. Not with us."

I turned away, staring at the shelf again. "I don’t know if I should’ve come back," I admitted. "This place... it’s a reminder of everything I tried to leave behind."

Gramps walked over to the chair beside the bed and sat down with a heavy sigh. "I won’t pretend to understand the depth of your pain, Raphael. But running from it hasn’t healed you, has it?"

I clenched my jaw. He wasn’t wrong. I had spent years burying myself in business, in power, in control—anything to make sure I never felt helpless again. But the ghosts of my past still followed me, no matter how high I built my walls.

Gramps leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You’re not that scared boy anymore, Raphael. You’re a man who built an empire, a man who’s about to start a new $Chapter

Chapter—whether it started as a contract or not."

I flinched at the mention of the contract. He didn’t say her name, but we both knew who he was referring to.

How did he find out?

"You love her, don’t you? Don't worry your secret is safe."

I tensed. The words caught me off guard, but I didn’t deny them. Instead, I sat down on the edge of the bed, exhaling slowly. "It doesn’t matter," I said. "She doesn’t want love. Not from me. Not after everything that’s happened."

"Then prove to her that this is real," he said simply.

I looked at him, my chest tightening. "It’s not that simple, Gramps."

"Nothing worth having ever is," he said.

Silence stretched between us. He didn’t push further, didn’t demand that I talk. He simply sat there, giving me space to breathe.

Maybe that’s why I didn’t ask him to leave.

For the first time in a long time, I let the silence settle, not as a burden, but as a reminder that I wasn’t completely alone.