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.”
I didn’t look at her. I folded my hands on the table and kept my eyes on my mother instead. “Why is she here?”
The smile on Victoria’s lips twitched, but she didn’t answer. My sister shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
My mother didn’t hesitate. “Because you’re going to marry her.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. I stared at her, certain I’d misheard. Certain she hadn’t just said what I thought she said.
“I’m sorry,” I said slowly. “What?”
“You heard me,” she replied, as calmly as if she’d announced dessert. A short, incredulous laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “That’s never going to happen.”
Her expression didn’t change. “It will.”
“No,” I said, the word sharp and immediate. “It won’t. That’s not your decision to make.”
Victoria laughed softly, the sound light and placating. “Let’s not turn this into a fight.”
I turned toward her then, meeting her gaze for the first time.
The confidence in her expression made my stomach tighten. She wasn’t surprised by my reaction. She expected resistance, not my outright refusal.
“You have no right to show up here,” I said flatly.
Her smile faltered, just for a fraction of a second, before it reappeared. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do.”
“Callahan,” my father muttered, finally lifting his head. “Let your mother explain.”
I shot him a look, anger flaring hot in my chest. He looked away almost immediately.
“Explain what?” I asked. “Why is my ex sitting at this table like she owns the place?”
My mother ignored the sarcasm. “This marriage will benefit everyone involved.”
“Everyone except me.”
“You’ll adjust,” she said dismissively.
I leaned back in my chair, disbelief slowly giving way to something darker—hurt and anger mixing beneath the surface. 'You can't seriously think I'd agree to this.'
“It’s already been discussed,” she replied.
“With who?” I demanded. “Because it sure as hell wasn’t discussed with me.”
My mother cleared her throat. “This isn’t about feelings.”
“Of course it is,” I snapped. “You’re talking about my life.”
“It’s about the company,” she corrected. “And its future.”
I shook my head slowly. “You still haven’t explained why you think dragging Victoria back into my life is suddenly strategic.”
“I’m glad you asked,” she said.
She straightened, clearly settling into this part of the conversation. “Victoria’s father has approached us about a partnership.”
I frowned. “A partnership?”
“Yes. A merger, to be precise.”
My pulse kicked up. “Since when?”
“He doesn’t have a son,” she continued. “He wants to ensure his hard work is passed down to someone worthy of it.”
I stared at her. “So your solution is to marry off your son like a pawn in your game?”
My mother sighed, sharp and impatient. “You’re being dramatic. People break up. People make mistakes. Marriage is about working through things.”
“You’re asking me to marry someone who made my life hell,” I said. “When we were together and after.”
Victoria shifted beside my sister, her hands folded neatly in her lap, knuckles white. She looked exactly like she always did when she wanted sympathy—soft eyes, trembling lips, carefully restrained tears. The performance was flawless. It always had been.
“You’re exaggerating,” my mother said. “She’s here. She’s apologizing. That should count for something.”
“It doesn’t,” I snapped.
Victoria flinched as if I’d struck her.
I let out a slow breath and refused to look at her for long. If I did, my anger would give way, and the truth might slip.
“I didn’t just break up with her because she was a terrible girlfriend,” I said. “Though she was. She was controlling, vindictive, and downright cruel when she didn’t get her way.”
“That’s not fair,” my mother said sharply.
“I’m not finished.”
Silence fell, tense and brittle.
“There are things she did,” I continued, choosing my words carefully, “things I won’t repeat in this room. But they’re the reason I will never marry her. Ever.”
Victoria finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “Callahan, please—”
I turned on her so fast that the movement made my sister suck in a breath.
“Don’t,” I said coldly.
She froze.
My gaze locked onto hers, all the restraint I’d been holding onto bleeding away. “You don’t get to speak. Not here. Not now. Not ever.”
Her lower lip trembled. “I just want to explain—”
“No,” I cut in. “You don’t want to explain. You want to rewrite what happened.”
My mother leaned forward. “Callahan, enough. You’re being cruel.”
I looked directly at Victoria then, really looked at her, and let the disgust I’d been suppressing show.
“You are either,” I said slowly, “too dumb to understand why I’ll never forgive you, too desperate to accept reality, or too evil to sit here wanting to marry me after what you did.”
She gasped, a sob ripping out of her chest.
My mother stood abruptly. “Callahan!”
“Which one is it?” I pressed, unmoved. “Because there is no version of reality where this”—I gestured between us—“ends in a wedding.”
Victoria rose shakily to her feet, tears spilling freely now. “I know I hurt you,” she cried. “I know I made mistakes. But I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. And this—this is my way of proving it.”
I stared at her, incredulous. “Marriage isn’t an apology.”
“It is to me,” she said desperately. “It means commitment. It means choosing to be better.”
My sister finally stood, stepping between us like a shield.
“That’s enough,” she said, her voice steady but furious. “All of you. This is insane.”
My mother rounded on her. “Stay out of this.”
“No,” my sister said. “I won’t. You’re ganging up on him, and it’s disgusting. He said no. Over and over. That should be the end of it.”
My father shifted again, still silent.
My sister turned to him. “Are you really okay with this? With forcing him into a marriage he clearly doesn’t want?”
He didn’t answer.
The room felt smaller by the second.
“Say something,” she demanded.
Still nothing.
“There’s no point in continuing this conversation,” I said. “Because I’m already married.”