Shadows Of The Past
Country: Eldoria
Adrian
It had been a month. A month since the papers were signed, a month since Alvara disappeared from my life.
The media called it a divorce. I called it freedom.
The city whispered, but only half of the story ever reached the headlines.
I didn’t care. Let them talk. Let them speculate. None of it mattered.
I adjusted my tie as I entered the glass-walled conference room. The morning sunlight reflected off the skyscrapers of central Eldoria, bouncing across the polished table where executives waited. My gaze swept over them, calculating, precise, measuring every expression for weakness or hesitation.
“Gentlemen,” I said, my voice smooth but sharp, “if your projections are correct, this merger will triple revenue. But I expect a more robust risk analysis on my desk by tomorrow morning.”
The meeting continued with its usual rhythm of power and control, every decision executed with precision. I had been ruthless these past weeks, more so than before…a man reshaped by absence, by loss, by obsession with control.
By midday, I leaned back in my chair, inside my office reviewing the numbers once more. My thoughts wandered to the conversation I had with Eliora earlier.
I flashed back to the conversation I had with Eliora this morning.
“You promised me a future,” she had said softly, her eyes unwavering.
I had promised. And I intended to keep it. No one, not my father, not the media, not even anyone, would tell me otherwise.
“I’ll do this my way,” I muttered, picking up my car keys.
The drive to the estate was quiet, the streets of Eldoria passing by like lines of a board game I had long mastered. I anticipated the objections, knew the weight of my father’s disapproval before I even arrived. He always assumed control over things that weren’t his to dictate anymore.
When I arrived, it was just Mom, seated elegantly in the living room.
“Adrian,” she said, a flicker of surprise in her eyes.
I gave her a curt nod. “How are you doing?”
“I’m well,” she replied, standing to hug me.
“It’s been…some time since you were last here.”
“I’m fine, Mom. Where’s Dad?” I asked, cutting straight to the point.
“He’s upstairs. Should I call him down?”
“Yes please” I said sharply.
He came down a few minutes later.
Of course, Isla followed like a shadow. Always there. Always watching. Always waiting for the opportunity to interfere.
“Finally decided to visit?” Dad scoffed as he settled into his chair.
“I’ve been busy, and you know that,” I replied calmly.
“Why are you here?” His voice was serious now, measured, the weight of the question pressing down like the walls of a cell.
“I’m getting married,” I said, voice steady, letting the words land. “To Eliora.”
The silence that followed was heavy, almost tangible.
“After one month of announcing your divorce,”?
my father asked, his expression darkened.
“You cannot do anything stupid again. The media will dig into your divorce, and they will find out what happened,” he shouted, his voice sharp enough to cut glass.
“I don’t care what the media thinks,” I said, standing my ground. “I’m done letting fear and perception dictate my choices. I’ll do this my way.”
Isla scoffed from where she sat.
“Eliora? You really think anyone will respect a man who divorces and remarries without a second thought?”
“Respect?” I replied, the ice in my voice deliberate. “I don’t need it from judgmental hypocrites like you.”
“Eliora or no Eliora, you’re still the same spoiled boy pretending to be a man,” she said again.
“Better a spoiled boy with vision than a loud fool with delusions of grandeur,” I replied, my eyes locking with hers.
“Your words are loud, Isla, but your brain is still small,” I added, letting my disdain linger.
“You think…”
“Shut up!” Mom interrupted her sharply.
Dad simply sat and stared, silent, his presence like a storm gathering on the horizon.
“What is wrong with you both? Must you always be on each other’s throats? What is it?!” Mom’s voice cracked with anger, the edge of frustration palpable.
“When did you become so disrespectful to your brother, Isla?” she added.
“Since when he deceived an innocent lady and got her pregnant!” she fired back.
I let a short, humorless laugh escape, more out of disbelief than amusement.
“Shut it! Keep quiet! Who made you the judge over your brother? No matter what happens, he’s still your elder brother, and he deserves respect from you,” Mom continued, her voice low but firm.
“Respect is earned, and he has never earned my respect. So he doesn’t deserve it. There’s no way I will respect a woman-beater,”
she shot back, rising to her feet.
“I’m done being in this house and watching these stupid things. I’m tired of it,” she said, standing, ready to leave. But Mom stood up immediately,grabbed her arm and slapped her instantly.
“You want to walk out on me again? On your father too? How dare you!” Mom shouted.
Isla’s cheeks reddened with shock and rage. She shook her head, then ran upstairs, leaving the room heavy with tension.
“The only reason I allow her to run her mouth is because of you, Mom. I keep holding myself back. But this is the last time. The next time it happens, I will teach her a very big lesson,” I said, voice low, dangerous.
“You will do no such thing,” Dad finally said, speaking as if he hadn’t been in the room at all until now.
“Who do you think she learned all that from? Or have you forgotten?” he added, eyes boring into mine.
“You came here to tell me you want to marry another wife…a month after your wife escaped? Try me then. If you go ahead with this stupid thing you ran here to tell me like the fool that you are, I will remove your name from the family register. And you will cease to be my son,” he shouted.
“I have a daughter who’s more than capable of taking over you any day. Have that at the back of your mind,” he said, and left for his room.
The tension in the room coiled like a spring. Anger boiled through my veins. I grabbed the glass of drink on the table and smashed it against the wall. Shards scattered across the polished floor.
Mom shrieked and tried to intervene, but I walked out, every step measured, controlled. I knew my father too well to doubt his words. He never bluffed. Never. And I would prove him wrong.
Later, in the quiet of my study, I sank into the chair, letting myself exhale. Thinking. Calculating. Planning. I knew the next steps I had to take.
Then my phone vibrated sharply on the desk. I checked it immediately. Hilliard.
“Adrian…” His voice was calm, yet urgent.
I leaned forward, pulse quickening.
“The phone…” he paused, and the slight hesitation in his tone made my stomach tighten. “…it’s finally switched on.”
My chest tightened. No location. No additional details. Just the knowledge that the line to the past..the line to Alvara..was alive again.
And that was enough.