The Desperate Man

The morning started with yet another awful phone call.

"Mr. Bronson, sorry," a voice on the line informed me. "Our firm has decided to delay our deal with Bronson Corporation. It's not the right time."

"That's the sixth one," I swore, holding the phone tighter. "Six in two weeks."

The man chuckled nervously. "It's only temporary. We'll… reconsider later."

He hung up on me before I could get a word out.

I placed the phone back on the desk and rubbed my face. The pile of rejected contracts was mounting higher each day.

---

Afternoon, I was in the boardroom again with the directors. The mood was more bitter than ever before.

Stanton leaned forward, his tie open. "Callum, this is getting out of hand. The company is losing value by the day."

Harris slapped his hand on the table. "Do you understand what's happening? If this continues, Bronson Corp won't survive the year."

I gave him a glare. "And what are you wanting me to do? Scare clients into remaining?"

"You require stability," Stanton said bluntly. "Investors must have a secure front."

The other directors nodded.

I stayed silent, jaw clenched. Stability. The word was a noose around my throat.

---

After the meeting was finished, I came back to my office. Evangeline sat there, crossed legs, on the couch.

"You're late," she said softly.

I sighed. "I didn't invite you."

She tilted her head. "I know. But I'm worried about you."

I walked over to my desk and poured myself a glass of water. "Don't play like concern. You need something."

Her lips twisted into a tiny smile. "You're right. I do."

I scowled at her. "What is it?"

She stepped forward, her feet making barely any noise on the floor. "Marry me, Callum."

I almost dropped the glass. "What?"

"You heard me," she said softly. "Marry me. If you marry me, my stepmother will no longer hold back. She'll convince my father to diversify his investment. The Wilder Group could stabilize Bronson Corp overnight."

I stared at her, stunned. "You want to marry me for business."

She smoothed her hair. "Not business only. You know I love you. I've always loved you. And you loved me once, too."

I clenched my teeth. "This is different."

"Why?" she asked, slitting her eyes. "Because of her?"

I said nothing.

Evangeline stepped forward, her voice lowering to a whisper. "Callum, you're drowning. And I'm the only one holding out a hand. Take it, before you're too far gone."

I headed over to the window and stared out at the Aurelia cityscape. "Even if the Wilder Group backs me now, what happens in the future? What do I do when I need more? What do I do when my stepmother needs more power?"

She frowned. "Why do you always assume the worst of me?"

I laughed harshly. "Because I know you, Evangeline."

There was silence between us. Finally, she sighed softly, "I'm not her, Callum. I'm not Zephyrine. I won't leave you."

Her words seared, but not in the manner she desired.

---

Tonight, I stayed in the office late after everyone else departed. Papers were strewn everywhere. I leaned back in my chair, gazing at the ceiling, unable to produce answers.

Later, I pulled out the lower drawer of my desk. Inside it was a small wood box.

I took it out and opened it.

Inside it was a picture. Zephyrine and I, two summers ago. We had gone to something in the summer. She was smiling, her arm thrown over mine, her eyes sparkling.

I stared at the photo a long time, my heart tightening.

"What did I do?" I grumbled.

The guilt was the strongest it had ever been. She had looked at me like I was the whole world to her. And I had shattered it with my own hands.

I closed the box and pushed it away. But the expression on her face remained.

---

My phone buzzed. A message from Evangeline appeared on the screen: Don't forget what I told you today. Consider it, Callum. I can save you.

I didn't respond. I went instead through my phonebook until I came to a number I hadn't called in months.

The private investigator.

I phoned.

"Bronson?" a man replied, after ringing a few times.

"Yes," I rasped. "I want you to find someone for me."

There was silence, then the man said, "Who?"

"Zephyrine," I said softly. "She left Aurelia with Edmund Hale. Follow her. I need to know exactly where she is, what she's doing, all of it."

The detective hesitated. "That will be hard. Hale is. on guard."

"Money isn't a problem," I told him coldly. "Just get it done."

I hung up before he could argue.

I sat back in my chair, rubbed my face. For days, I'd tried to focus on the business, survival. But nothing seemed to make her leave my head.

And so now I had to know.

Had to see her again.