Another pause. Then he nodded. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
We walked side by side in comfortable silence, our steps matching without effort. I wondered if he noticed. When we reached my car, I turned to thank him—and found myself frozen when he leaned in.
His lips brushed my forehead, warm and gentle, lingering just long enough to set my skin on fire.
“Good night, Evania,” he said quietly.
“Good night, Callahan.”
He stepped back, gave me one last unreadable look, then turned and walked away.
10- callahan
I hadn't realized how loud silence could be until I stood at the foot of the stairs, staring at nothing and thinking about a woman I'd gone out with two days ago. We spent a single evening together, yet our conversation wedged itself into every spare corner of my mind as if it paid rent.
I replayed every moment, yet ultimately would always find myself focused on the moment I confessed to being a billionaire. I've relived that moment so many times, yet I still couldn't figure out what Evania was feeling when I told her the truth. She looked shocked but excited by the news. There wasn't a hint of anger for keeping the truth from her, which confused me more than anything else.
I should have felt relieved that she seemed open to the idea of entering a marriage of convenience with me. Hell, I was relieved. A solution had dropped neatly into my lap, though I couldn't hide how her eagerness made me feel like she could be a gold digger.
In the grand scheme of things it wouldn't matter but having developed some affection for her made it a tough pill to swallow. I wanted her to really like me and now I wasn't sure if she did. Would she have helped me if I weren't obscenely rich? It was highly unlikely.
I shook my head, dismissing the thought. The question was pointless. I'd already confessed, and there was no going back. I made my choice and couldn't resent the consequences now.
A glance at my watch told me I was already pushing it. Family dinner was in twenty minutes from now, and I was an hour away. I grabbed my coat from the back of the chair and headed for the door. I'd planned on skipping dinner this week. Avoidance had become my go-to strategy lately, but I needed to try one more time to get through to my mother.
The drive to my parents' house passed in a blur of streetlights and familiar turns. By the time I pulled into the long, curved driveway, my shoulders were already tight, braced for impact.
The moment I stepped into the room, I knew I’d been set up.
There was a particular stillness that only existed in this house when decisions had already been made without me. Not the quiet of an empty space or a peaceful dinner waiting to begin—but the tight, anticipatory silence of people who knew something I didn’t and were waiting for my reaction.
My parents were already seated at the table.
That alone was enough to put me on edge. My mother sat to the right of my father, spine straight, chin lifted, hands folded neatly in front of her as though she were about to preside over a board meeting rather than a family dinner. My father sat at the head of the table, eyes fixed somewhere just above his plate. He didn’t look up when I entered, which told me everything I needed to know.
Then I saw my sister.
She was seated to my father’s left, shoulders slightly hunched, fingers twisting together in her lap. Her gaze snapped to mine the instant I walked in, and for half a second, panic flickered across her face.
One look at the woman beside her and I knew why. Victoria, my ex, somehow wrangled an invitation to a family dinner. She angled her body slightly toward the empty seat across from her. Smiling brightly, as if she were exactly where she belonged.
For a moment, my brain refused to cooperate. It felt like walking into a room I’d already left years ago, the past rearranged and placed neatly in front of me as if time hadn’t moved on without her.
She looked the same. Impeccably dressed, hair smooth and perfect, posture elegant. That practiced smile was still there—the one that never quite reached her eyes, the one she used when she wanted something.
My steps slowed.
I didn’t look at her again. Instead, my gaze went straight back to my sister. Her lips pressed together, and she gave a small, helpless shrug. "They took my phone so I couldn't warn you."
I exhaled through my nose, a quiet, resigned breath. Of course, they had. I didn’t blame her. I never would. If our mother had decided something was happening, nothing would stop her. I considered turning around, just walking away from what was clearly a trap, but I didn't. The look my mother gave me told me everything I needed to know. If I left, she would make me regret it.
I crossed the room, pulled out the chair opposite Victoria, and sat. The scrape of wood on the floor echoed in the silence. Victoria’s eyes followed me, her smile unwavering. I didn’t return it or acknowledged her.
“Good evening,” my mother said, her voice smooth and composed.
“Evening,” I replied, just as evenly.
Victoria leaned forward slightly, her tone warm and familiar. “Callahan.”
