Starting Over
Country: Aurivelle
City: Auremont
Adrian
I had been in Auremont for two weeks.
And the first thing that settled in my mind when I arrived before the roads,before the skyline,before the rhythm of the city itself..
It was a name I had known long before I ever stepped into Aurivelle.
Hawthorne.
It wasn’t unfamiliar.
It couldn’t be.
There were very few people in my world who had never heard it.
Hawthorne Real Estate Development.
Hawthorne Finance Investment.
Hawthorne Technology Innovation.
They're established in fourteen countries.
Multiple sectors.
A structure so expansive it no longer felt like a company, but a system.
Even in Eldoria, where Vale Industries once carried weight, the Hawthorne name had always existed above conversation.
Not louder.
Not more aggressive.
Just established.
Untouchable in a way that didn’t require announcement.
Still, knowing the name and seeing its presence were two entirely different things.
In Auremont, it wasn’t just influence.
It was an imprint.
Buildings.
Districts.
Infrastructure.
Entire sections of the city that bore the quiet signature of ownership without needing to declare it.
I remembered stepping out of the airport with my suitcase and catching sight of the Hawthorne insignia stretched across one side of the terminal.
Not decorative.
Not loud.
Just there.
Like it had always been there.
Like it always would be.
There was something unsettling about that kind of power.
Something precise.
Measured.
And completely controlled.
I stood there for a moment longer than necessary.
Not intimidated.
But to be aware.
Because if I was going to build anything in this country.
That was the standard.
I had not come to Aurivelle blindly.
Every decision had been deliberate.
There were three reasons.
Three things that brought me here.
The first was distance.
I needed to leave Eldoria.
Completely.
Not temporarily.
Not for appearances.
Permanently.
There was nothing left for me there.
Not after watching everything I had spent years preparing for being handed to someone else without hesitation.
Not after my father walked past me like I no longer existed.
Not after my name became something people said quietly instead of directly.
I had cut off every connection.
Changed my number.
Closed accounts.
Ignored calls before they stopped coming entirely.
No family.
No board.
No relatives pretending concern while calculating what my absence meant for them.
Nothing.
The silence that followed wasn’t peaceful.
But it was honest.
And for now that was enough.
Got you—this shift actually makes the emotion stronger, because now he’s not chasing a ghost… he’s walking into a reality he can see but may never reach. Let’s rewrite it with that weight ????
The second reason was Alvara.
Not the possibility of her.
The reality of her.
Her being in Auremont.
Thriving in a way I had never allowed her to before.
Her name wasn’t hidden.
It appeared in articles.
In business features.
In conversations that had nothing to do with me.
Alvara Dane.
A woman who had built something of her own.
A woman who no longer needed the world I once forced her into.
I had seen the photographs.
The interviews.
The quiet confidence in the way she carried herself now.
There was nothing fragile about her anymore.
Nothing uncertain.
She looked untouchable.
For a long time, I had only watched from a distance.
Without reaching out.
Without interfering.
Because I didn’t know what I was allowed to want anymore.
But somewhere along the line, knowing she was here stopped being something I observed and became something I moved toward.
Aurivelle stopped being just a decision.
It became a direction.
Not toward forgiveness.
Not even toward reconciliation.
Just toward her.
Even if all I was allowed to do in the end was stand at a distance and know that she was still alive.
The third reason was the Hawthornes.
Not admiration.
Not curiosity.
Strategy.
If I was going to build something from nothing it needed foundation.
Capital.
Credibility.
And in Aurivelle, those things moved through one central force.
Hawthorne Real Estate Development.
They don't partner carelessly.
They don't invest emotionally.
They evaluate.
They calculate
And then they decide
Which meant if I wanted my company to become anything beyond a small, struggling operation…
I would need to reach them eventually.
And convince them I was worth the risk.
That thought alone required precision.
Because men like Grayson Hawthorne don't entertain failure.
And they certainly don't invest in it.
Auremont itself had been different from what I expected.
Not softer.
Not easy.
Just alive in a different way.
It wasn’t weighed down by legacy the way Eldoria was.
There were elite districts.
Of course there were.
But beyond that , there was movement.
Construction.
Expansion.
A city still building itself.
Still deciding what it wanted to become.
I understood that.
Better than I wanted to.
Because I was standing in the same position.
The apartment I rented reflected that reality.
No staff.
No structure.
No familiarity.
Just space.
Functional.
Temporary and necessary.
The first few nights had been unbearable.
Silence without interruption.
No voices.
No expectations.
No one is watching.
No one is judging.
Just…me.
And memory.
Eventually, the silence changed.
It stopped feeling empty.
It started feeling deserved.
Work became routine.
Not because the company was fully operational…but because I needed somewhere to put my thoughts.
Real estate was the only thing that still made sense.
It always had.
My father built everything from it.
And whether I wanted to admit it or not.
I had learned from him.
Not how to be a man.
But how to build something.
Look at what it is.
Then look at what it could become.
Then decide if the difference is worth the investment.
Simple.
Brutal.
Effective.
The building Alice found wasn’t impressive.
Not by the standards I was raised around.
But it wasn’t supposed to be.
It sat far from Auremont’s prestige districts.
Far from the polished skyline dominated by names like Hawthorne.
This part of the city was still growing.
Still shaping itself.
Which made it useful.
Three floors.
Strong structure.
Good location relative to projected expansion.
Enough.
More than enough to begin.
I stood across the street that morning, hands in my coat pockets, watching the building as traffic moved steadily around me.
No history.
No attachment.
No expectation.
Just potential.
Alice approached from the opposite side, a folder tucked neatly beneath her arm.
“You’re early,” she said.
“I always am ,” I answered.
She handed me the documents as we stepped inside.
The building still carried the faint scent of fresh paint.
Unfinished.
Unclaimed.
I walked through it slowly.
Carefully.
Not as Adrian Vale.
Not as someone inheriting anything.
As a man building something for himself.
Ground floor.
Reception.
Second floor.
Offices.
Third floor.
Open planning space.
I stopped at the window.
Looked out over the street.
At the cranes in the distance.
At the movement.
At the constant becoming.
“I’ll take it.”
Alice nodded once.
Like she had expected nothing else.
The paperwork sat in front of me that night.
Clean.
Structured.
Waiting.
One blank line stood out more than anything else.
Company Name.
For most of my life, that line had already been filled.
Decided.
Inherited.
Vale.
Now it was empty.
And entirely mine.
I picked up the pen slowly.
Paused for a moment.
Then wrote
Crestline Properties Development.
No history.
No attachment.
No family name tied to it.
Just a beginning.
I signed the document.
Set the pen down.
And leaned back in the chair.
Outside, Auremont stretched endlessly beneath the night.
Lights.
Movement.
Possibility.
Somewhere in that city…
Alvara existed.
The thought settled quietly.
Not urgent.
Not desperate.
Just…there.
Waiting.
Like everything else in my life now.
I didn’t know how this would end.
I didn’t know if she would ever look at me again without remembering everything I had done.
But I was here.
And I wasn’t hiding from what I had become.
I was standing in it.
Building from it.
Trying even if it was too late…to become something different.
I looked out toward the distant skyline.
Toward the structures carrying the Hawthorne name.
Then back at the signed document in front of me.
Small.
Insignificant.
But real.
For now..
That was enough.