005

Zane POV

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to New York’s John F. Kennedy International Airport. The local time is 6:40 PM. We’d like to…”

I stood up before the voice could finish.

I wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries, gratitude, or warm welcomes. None of that applied to me anyway. What was welcoming about returning to a place that never wanted you in the first place?

Nothing.

I pulled my suitcase down from the overhead compartment, ignoring the polite smiles and slow-moving passengers around me. I didn’t belong in this herd. I never had.

The moment my feet touched the terminal floor, a familiar tension settled into my shoulders. New York smelled the same. Sounded the same. Loud. Impatient. Pretending to be alive while chewing people up.

I moved past security with long, steady strides, my jaw set, eyes forward.

I spotted my assistant immediately. He was practically jogging toward me, suit crisp, tablet clutched to his chest like a shield.

“Sir,” he said, reaching for my luggage. “Are we heading home now?”

Home.

The word tasted bitter. Almost funny.

I scoffed before I could stop myself, a low sound curling out of my chest. Home. As if this place had ever been that to me.

If not for my grandfather’s relentless nagging, I wouldn’t have bothered acknowledging this city still existed. Wouldn’t have acknowledged them.

I gave a short nod and got into the car without another word.

The door shut with a muted thud, sealing me inside leather and silence. As the car pulled away, the city lights blurred past the tinted windows.

Why was he so insistent?

That question had followed me all the way across the ocean.

Twelve years.

Twelve whole years since they sent me away. Exiled me. Cast me out like damaged goods. Blamed me for something I didn’t do, all because of that weak bastard who couldn’t stand on his own feet and tell the truth.

And now I was supposed to come back like everything was fine.

Like time erased betrayal.

Like scars didn’t remember.

A humorless smile tugged at my lips.

Joke’s on them.

They’d regret ever doing what they did to me. Not because I needed revenge, but because I had become something they could no longer control, ignore, or underestimate.

Hours later, the car slowed.

Ashford Mansion came into view.

Big. Imposing. Untouched by time, as if it had been waiting for me to return just so it could sneer.

Dark memories pressed at the edges of my mind. Voices. Accusations. Silence that followed. I shoved them back where they belonged.

Not tonight.

“Sir, should I follow you or—”

“No need,” I cut in sharply. “Wait here.”

I stepped out of the car, straightened my jacket, and headed toward the entrance with measured confidence.

I checked my wristwatch.

8:00 PM.

Fashionably late always made a statement. Especially when you wanted people unsettled.

“Ouch!”

I barely flinched.

I looked down to see someone had walked straight into me.

“Is it too dark that you can’t see?” I asked, irritation sliding easily into my tone.

Careless people annoyed me. Always had.

I stared at the petite woman now glaring up at me, her eyes sharp, furious even. Interesting.

“Can’t you speak?” I snapped. “Are you blind?”

Silence.

That annoyed me more.

What kind of incompetent servant did my grandfather employ now?

She straightened herself and turned to walk away like I didn’t exist.

I reached out and caught her wrist, stopping her.

“Don’t you have any man—”

She yanked her hand free violently, cutting me off.

Still not saying a word.

My irritation spiked.

“Hey, what’s your problem?” I blocked her path deliberately. “Can you talk?”

She shoved me.

Not hard. But firm. Confident.

Then her hands moved.

Fast. Sharp. Deliberate.

I froze.

Sign language.

Her expression twisted with raw anger as she cursed at me with every movement.

JUST LEAVE ME ALONE, YOU FREAK.

She stormed past me, her face flushed red, shoulders tense, pride blazing through every step.

I stood there, stunned.

She was deaf.

The realization hit like a punch to the gut.

“Oh shit,” I muttered under my breath.

Had I really just done that?

I dragged a hand through my hair, jaw tightening. I wasn’t used to embarrassment. Especially not this kind.

A sharp click sounded behind me.

I turned just in time to see two men disappearing into the distance, cameras in hand, already running like rats with something to sell.

Of course.

They’d heard the news.

The black sheep of the Ashford family was back.

And apparently, I’d made one hell of an entrance.