Inside the grand conference hall of the Velmore Tower, tension sat thick in the air. The long table was filled with the company's board members — all prominent figures, all whispering anxiously about the sudden absence of their CEO. The empty seat at the head of the table, where Lucian Velmore usually sat, seemed heavier than ever.
Victoria Velmore, elegant and composed despite her age, sat straight-backed in his place. On her right sat Caelum Vellaria, poised and calm but clearly bracing for what was coming. Papers rustled, murmurs spread, and then the meeting began.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Victoria started, her tone firm and dignified, "as you may have heard, my grandson, Mr. Lucian Velmore, is currently on indefinite leave. I will be taking over the leadership of Velmore Industries in the interim to ensure our operations remain stable and uninterrupted."
Whispers rose immediately, a flurry of concern and speculation.
"Mrs. Velmore," one of the directors spoke up — an older man named Mr. Preston, who'd been part of the board since Lucian's father's time. "We understand you're stepping in temporarily, but investors are getting nervous. They've been calling since dawn. Can you at least tell us why Mr. Velmore has gone silent? The media's already circulating rumors — and they're not kind."
Another board member added sharply, "Is it true that Mr. Velmore abandoned his duties because of a woman?"
Victoria's jaw tightened, but she remained calm. "Personal matters aside, Mr. Velmore's absence is for reasons of health and recovery. He will return once circumstances permit."
The response, though graceful, didn't silence the room. Instead, more murmurs erupted — soft but sharp like blades.
Caelum stepped in, his voice cutting through the noise. "I can assure you that Velmore Industries remains under firm management. I've personally seen to it that all contracts and projects continue without interruption. There is no reason for panic."
That quieted the group somewhat — Caelum's tone carried quiet authority, the kind that commanded attention without force. But then one young executive, bolder than the rest, spoke up hesitantly:
"Mr. Vellaria, with all due respect, if Mr. Velmore is dealing with personal matters… why would he abandon the company entirely to take care of his ex-wife?"
The room fell silent. The question hung in the air like smoke.
Victoria's lips parted, but no answer came out. Even she didn't have an explanation for that.
The tension was interrupted when Elias, Lucian's loyal assistant, suddenly stood up from the back of the room. His usual calm demeanor carried something weightier — as though he had been holding in a truth for far too long.
"If I may," Elias said respectfully, his voice echoing in the quiet room. "Mr. Velmore did not abandon his company for his ex-wife."
The board turned toward him, eyes narrowing. Victoria frowned slightly. "Elias," she said carefully, "what do you mean by that?"
Elias stepped forward, a folder in his hand. He took a deep breath before continuing, "Mr. Velmore and Miss Caliste Winslow never finalized their divorce. The papers were drafted… but never signed, nor filed with the court. Legally speaking—" he paused, then laid the folder on the table before Victoria, "—Caliste Winslow is still Mrs. Lucian Velmore and now he is taking care of his wife."
Gasps rippled around the table.
Victoria froze, her hand hovering over the folder. Slowly, she opened it — and there it was, the legal documentation, unsigned and sealed, proof of what Elias had said.
Caelum leaned forward, stunned. "You mean to tell us that all this time… they were still married?"
Elias nodded gravely. "Yes, sir. Mr. Velmore kept the documents in his private safe. He told me years ago to leave them untouched — that some things are not meant to be undone."
Victoria leaned back, the realization hitting her like a wave. She remembered Lucian's silence when she questioned him before, how he never fully answered about Caliste — how his eyes always betrayed pain. Now it all made sense.
The board members exchanged shocked glances, some whispering among themselves. The narrative had shifted in an instant — what they thought was abandonment now looked like devotion.
Victoria cleared her throat, regaining her poise. "This matter is personal and private," she said firmly, her voice commanding the room back to order. "What concerns this board is the future of Velmore Industries, not the personal sacrifices my grandson chooses to make."
The murmurs faded. Everyone fell quiet again under her authority.
Caelum glanced at his grandmother, then at the folder — his jaw tightening as new understanding settled in. So Lucian hadn't just been caring for Caliste out of guilt. He'd been protecting his wife — the woman he never stopped claiming, even in silence.
When the meeting finally adjourned, Victoria remained seated, staring at the folder long after everyone had left. Caelum lingered by the door.
"He never stopped loving her, did he?" Caelum asked quietly.
Victoria closed the folder, her eyes heavy with sadness and regret. "No," she murmured. "And perhaps… that was his greatest sin — and his greatest truth."
----
The pale light of dawn slipped through the hospital blinds, casting a soft glow over the quiet room. Machines hummed gently, the steady rhythm of beeps breaking the silence. Caliste stirred, her eyelids fluttering open as the blur of reality returned — the white walls, the scent of antiseptic, the heavy bandages that reminded her of the pain she'd rather forget.
Her throat felt dry, her chest heavy. Slowly, her gaze shifted — and there he was.
Lucian Velmore.
He sat beside her, still in his casual attire yet looking utterly exhausted. His once-perfect composure was nowhere to be found. His hair was disheveled, his face shadowed with sleepless nights. A coffee cup sat cold beside him, untouched. For days, he hadn't left her side.
When she moved, his eyes lifted instantly. The moment their gazes met, something inside both of them broke — unspoken words thickened the air between them.
"Caliste," he breathed, his voice low, raw. "You're awake."
She blinked slowly, memories flashing like lightning — the pain, the shouting, the fall, then the darkness. Her hand instinctively went to her stomach, but Lucian caught her wrist gently before she could ask.
Her lips trembled. "My baby…"
Lucian froze. His silence was answer enough. Caliste's breath hitched, the tears welling before she could stop them. A strangled sob escaped her, the weight of loss crushing her chest. Lucian moved closer, wanting to hold her, to tell her he was sorry — but when he reached out, she flinched.
"Don't," she whispered weakly, her voice shaking. "You don't have to pretend to care. You shouldn't be here, Lucian. Please… just leave."
Her words cut through him like a blade — cold, final, painfully familiar.
Because once, long ago, it was him who said those exact same words.
He could still remember the night he left her in that abandoned warehouse, thinking he was doing the right thing — thinking distance was the only way to protect her. "You have nothing to do with me anymore," he had said then. And now, hearing it from her lips felt like punishment from fate itself.
Lucian swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he forced himself not to break down in front of her. "I can't," he said, voice rough and uneven. "Not this time, Caliste."
She turned her face away, tears silently rolling down her cheeks. "You already did, Lucian. You left me once when I needed you the most. Please… don't do this to me again. Just go."
For a long moment, he didn't move. The war inside him was visible — pride against guilt, love against regret. Finally, he stood slowly, every step away from her bed heavier than the last.
At the doorway, he stopped, turning his gaze back to her fragile form. "You can hate me," he murmured, voice breaking, "but I'll stay… even if you don't want to see me."
Caliste didn't respond. She just closed her eyes — as if doing so could shut out the pain, the memory, the man she once loved more than her own life.
Outside, Caelum was waiting. He saw Lucian emerge, his eyes red, his shoulders heavy with defeat. Neither spoke a word. They didn't need to.
Inside the room, Caliste clutched the bedsheet, her body trembling. For the first time, she wished she could forget him — the warmth of his arms, the fire of his love, and the destruction it brought.
But even now, even after everything, her heart still whispered his name.