New beginnings

ADRIAN POV.

I swirled the whiskey in my glass, watching the amber liquid catch the light before raising it to my lips. The burn was sharp, grounding, a perfect counterpoint to the whirlwind in my head.

At 27, I had closed the biggest deal of my life—a merger that would push Sterling Enterprises into uncharted territory.

Dad’s words echoed in my mind: This is your final test.Passing it meant taking the helm as CEO, the title that had loomed over me for years, both a dream and a cage.

I wasn’t just stepping into the role; I was stepping into my father’s shadow, a place I’d been groomed to inhabit since I was eight years old.

He already got me engaged to his business partner’s daughter—Vera. Not that I was happy, but I yearned to make him say the sentence: I’m proud of you.

The lady in red —the one I had a one night stand with the previous night. She was so beautiful and seeing the red dress shaping her curves made me smile.

My favorite color—she wore it so majestically, who would have believed I went to the bar— in the hotel I stay to celebrate but brought up a goddess.

I smiled. I unbuttoned my shirt, standing in front of the mirror. My reflection stared back—sharp suit, chiseled features, and eyes that betrayed a weariness most people couldn’t see.

As the shirt slipped from my shoulders, the dragon tattoo over my left side chest caught my gaze.

There it was: my silent anchor, a constant reminder of what I’d lost.

***

The memory hit me like it always did—raw and unrelenting. I was eight, and Ken, my older brother, was thirteen. He wasn’t just my brother; he was my hero, my guide, the one who made the world feel safe.

That summer day had started like any other. The woods behind our estate had always been our playground.

“Adrian, stay close,” Ken had warned, his tone stern but patient.

But I was a restless kid, always pushing limits. The steep, rocky slope beckoned with the kind of thrill I couldn’t resist.

“Don’t go near there!” he shouted as I sprinted ahead, laughing.

By the time I realized the danger, it was too late. Ken chased after me, his voice growing panicked. The gravel beneath him shifted, and he slipped.

I can still hear the sickening sound of his body tumbling down the rocks. When I reached him, blood was already trickling down his temple.

“Ken, I’m sorry,” I whispered, cradling him in my arms.

His hand, trembling, touched my chest, just above my heart. “I told you to be careful,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. And then he was gone.

My father never let me forget that day. He called me reckless, a failure, the reason his golden boy was gone. Therapy was for the weak, he’d said, so I learned to carry the guilt alone.

Ken’s death had rewritten my life. The carefree boy I was vanished, replaced by someone driven, someone hardened.

My father’s expectations didn’t just shape me—they consumed me. Every achievement was for Ken. Every success was penance.

The dragon tattoo marked the spot where Ken’s hand had rested as he drew his last breath. It was sacred. No one touched me there, not even the women who found themselves in my bed.

I buttoned up my shirt, pushing the memory aside. Tonight wasn’t about the past; it was about the future.

“See who’s basking in glory without me,” Lilian’s voice broke through my thoughts as she burst into the room, her grin wide and teasing.

“You were at school,” I replied, smirking. “Besides, I needed a moment to myself.”

She leaned against the doorframe, her dark curls spilling over her shoulder. “Well, don’t reflect too long. Dad’s waiting in the observatory. Something about an ‘official toast.’” She rolled her eyes, mimicking air quotes.

I chuckled. “Always the drama queen.”

As she turned to leave, I glanced once more at my reflection. The smile on my face was there, but it didn’t reach my eyes. Success came at a cost, and I’d been paying it for years.

KATHERINE POV

The plane jolted, snapping me out of a restless sleep. My neck ached, and my heart was pounding—not from the turbulence but from everything ahead.

Portland loomed beneath us, a city brimming with promise and uncertainty.

It had been two years since I signed the divorce papers, walking away from Max and the life we’d built—or rather, the life he’d controlled.

The settlement gave me a fresh start and full custody of our 17-year-old daughter—Charlotte, but freedom came with its own set of chains.

I glanced at my daughter, slouched in the seat beside me, her headphones on and her gaze fixed out the window. Her silence was deafening.

“Charlotte,” I said softly, nudging her arm.

She shrugged me off without so much as a glance.

It had been like this for years. She blamed me for the divorce, for uprooting her life, for everything. Max’s manipulative charm had worked its poison on her, just as it had on me for years.

When the plane touched down, we stepped into the chaos of Portland’s airport. Charlotte walked ahead, her shoulders hunched, every step radiating defiance.

“Do you want to grab something to eat?” I asked, desperate to bridge the growing chasm between us.

“No,” she replied curtly, not even looking back.

Her rejection was a knife to the heart, but I swallowed the sting. Starting over was supposed to be liberating, but it felt more like trudging through quicksand.

Charlotte’s defiance only deepened in the weeks that followed. She stayed out late, came home with shopping bags I didn’t recognize, and avoided me like the plague.

One night, I returned from another grueling day of job hunting to find her room empty. Panic set in as I called her phone, only to be met with a voicemail.

The hours dragged, each one heavier than the last, until finally, the front door creaked open.

She strolled in, her face indifferent, clutching a bag from some boutique.

“Where were you?” I demanded, my voice shaking.

“Out,” she said flatly, brushing past me.

“Out where, Charlotte? You can’t just disappear!”

“Why do you care?” she shot back, her eyes flashing. “You didn’t care when Dad was around.”

Her words hit like a slap. “I care because I’m your mother,” I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. “And because this is dangerous. We’re in a new city—”

“Whatever,” she muttered, slamming her bedroom door shut.

I leaned against the kitchen counter, the weight of my exhaustion pressing down on me. Max’s manipulation still had its claws in her, and I was left to pick up the pieces. But I wouldn’t give up.

Two days later, a lifeline arrived in my inbox.

It was an offer from Sterling Enterprises: a permanent position, a substantial salary, and benefits that promised stability. Relief washed over me as I read the details.

“Charlotte,” I called, walking into the living room. She was sprawled on the couch, her headphones on, her phone in hand.

When she didn’t respond, I gently tugged the headphones away.

“I got a job,” I said, forcing a smile.

She glanced at me, her face blank. “Good for you,” she said flatly, before turning back to her phone.

My heart sank, but I didn’t let it show. This job was my chance to rebuild our lives, to prove to Charlotte—and myself—that I could give her the life she deserved.

Even if she couldn’t see it yet, I would fight for us. One step at a time.