Chapter 17 - Whispers from the Past
The following morning, the sun poured into my suite, bathing the room in a golden glow. I was sipping my third cup of artisan coffee and reviewing quarterly reports when my phone buzzed on the mahogany desk. It was an unknown international number. Normally, I ignored calls from unrecognized numbers, but something about the persistent flashing prompt compelled me to answer.
"Hello?" I said, my voice cool and professional.
"Emily? Oh, thank God, Emily, please, you have to listen to me," a frantic, raspy voice spilled through the speaker. It took me a full three seconds to recognize the caller. It was Julian.
The contrast between the arrogant, sneering man who had screamed at me to get out of *my* house and the desperate, trembling voice on the other end of the line was staggering.
"Julian," I said smoothly, not a single trace of emotion leaking into my tone. "How did you get this number?"
"It doesn't matter, okay? Look, Emily, I know I messed up. I was blind, I was manipulated by my mother, you know how she is—"
"Julian," I interrupted, my voice dropping an octave, freezing him in his tracks. "If you are calling to ask for financial assistance, or to complain about your current living situation, save your breath. You have thirty seconds before I block this number forever."
"Wait! No, don't hang up!" he cried out, a pathetic sob catching in his throat. "We lost everything, Emily. The bank foreclosed on the mansion. Mother had a stroke when the marshals seized the furniture. I’m working two jobs just to pay for her medical bills, and everywhere I turn, doors are slammed in my face because the elite blacklisted me after what happened. You… you can fix this with just a phone call. You’re a billionaire now! Please, I’m begging you. Take me back. We can start over."
A cold, humorless laugh escaped my lips. "Take you back? Julian, you slapped me. You threw me out onto the street with nothing more than the clothes on my back and told me I was nothing. Did you really think there was a return policy on cruelty?"
"I was a fool! I was arrogant!" he pleaded, his voice breaking entirely. "I didn't know the empire was yours! If I had known—"
"If you had known, you would have hidden your true nature a little longer," I finished for him sharply. "Your regret isn't that you hurt me, Julian. Your regret is that you lost your meal ticket. You made your bed in that gilded cage of yours, and now you have to lie in it. Do not ever call this number again."
May you like
Before he could utter another desperate plea, I tapped the screen and hung up, blocking the number permanently. I tossed the phone onto the desk as if it were contaminated trash and turned back to the window. The Parisian streets were bustling with life, completely unbothered by the pathetic ghost of my past trying to claw its way back into the light. I felt no anger, only a profound sense of closure. The chapter was firmly shut.
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