Chapter 3: Dinner With Ghosts
The penthouse looked even colder at night.
No music this time. No cameras. No applause. Just the quiet hum of curated wealth and a tension that hadn't yet been named.
Daniel Knight arrived precisely at 8.
Adrian didn't knock. He was invited.
Julian Ward opened the door himself, dressed in a navy shirt, sleeves rolled, casual enough to seem powerful. His smile was precise.
"Mr. Knight," he said. "Punctual. I like that."
"I figured you would," Adrian replied smoothly, stepping inside.
Selena appeared a second later, wine glass in hand, dressed in a deep emerald dress that clung like memory. Her eyes met his—and for a moment, the world stopped pretending.
Adrian saw it.
That flicker.
Not recognition.
Not yet.
But… disruption.
"Daniel," she said, smiling with perfect balance. "Nice to see you again."
He bowed his head slightly. "The pleasure's mine."
She studied him again, a second too long. "Would you like a drink?"
"Whiskey. Neat."
Julian nodded to the butler, then gestured to the sleek black dining table lit by a single hanging crystal light.
They sat. Three people. Two histories. One war no one had named yet.
Dinner began with polite small talk.
Julian spoke about mergers, European investment, upcoming market crashes. Adrian listened, asked precise questions, said just enough to sound like an ally.
But his eyes?
They kept drifting.
To Selena.
She barely touched her food. She was too composed. Too still.
It was almost tragic—how carefully she'd built this version of herself.
"So, Mr. Knight," Julian said mid-meal, slicing through rare steak like a man used to winning. "I have to ask—what brings you to our city? And why now?"
Adrian met his gaze. Calm. "Timing, mostly."
Julian waited.
"I left the country a few years ago. Needed space. Clarity. Reinvention. Now I'm back for opportunity."
"Reinvention?" Selena asked softly.
Adrian turned to her. "Sometimes, life gives you no choice but to start over. People forget who you were. You learn to forget them too."
Her glass paused mid-air.
Julian laughed. "That's deep. Were you a poet in your past life?"
"No. Just... someone who remembers what being erased feels like."
Silence. A thread pulled too tight.
Selena looked away.
Julian changed the topic again, something lighter—travel, architecture, brands. But the damage was done.
Later, after dinner, they moved to the lounge. Wine replaced by whiskey. Words replaced by silence.
Adrian stood by the window, gazing at the night cityscape.
Selena approached, a few feet away. Close, but safe.
"You said something earlier," she said. "About being erased."
He didn't turn. "Did I?"
"Yes. It sounded… personal."
He finally looked at her. Not too long. Just enough.
"Have you ever been erased, Miss Hayes?"
She blinked. "No. I don't think so."
"Then you're lucky."
The silence stretched.
"I feel like we've met before," she admitted.
Adrian's heart didn't skip. Not even once.
"I hear that a lot," he said with a small smile. "I have one of those faces."
She nodded, but her fingers gripped the side of her glass like something was unsteady inside her.
Julian returned a moment later, throwing himself between them with an arm draped across the back of the sofa.
"Selena always gets curious about new people," he said casually. "She has a habit of seeing ghosts."
Adrian smiled, slow. "Ghosts tend to appear when something's unfinished."
Julian laughed. But there was something tight in his jaw now.
Selena didn't laugh at all.
By the time Adrian left, the air had shifted.
Julian was watching him now—not as a guest, but as a variable.
Selena… couldn't stop watching at all.
He stepped into the elevator without looking back.
As the doors closed, his reflection stared at him.
This wasn't just about returning.
This was about breaking them slowly. One room at a time.
Back inside the penthouse, Selena poured another glass of wine, standing alone at the same window Adrian had.
Julian walked up behind her.
"You okay?" he asked.
She nodded. "Just tired."
"Of?"
She didn't answer.
He watched her face for a long time. Then said, "There's something about him."
Selena didn't respond.
"I don't like men I can't place."
She turned to him. "Then why did you invite him here?"
Julian smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"Because it's better to keep your unknowns close."
Across the city, Adrian opened an old, worn file.
Inside: photos. Names. Documents.
And at the top—
A picture of Julian. Younger. Cocky. Standing outside a courtroom with his lawyers.
And right beside it—
Selena.
Not smiling. Not crying.
Just walking away.
Adrian ran his fingers over the image.
"Let's see what it takes to make you both remember."
[To Be Continued…]