Adrian Blackwood sat at the head of the long, obsidian conference table, but his mind wasn't in the room.
The voices of his board members faded into the background—droning on about quarterly targets, market shares, mergers. It was all noise. The same as it had been for the last five years.
Because no number, no business deal, no boardroom victory could silence the ghost that lingered in his life.
Lumina.
His wife. The woman who had once stood beside him in a white dress, all fierce eyes and quiet fire. The one who vanished in a blaze that had never stopped burning him from the inside out.
There had been no body. Just wreckage. A charred vehicle. Blood on the asphalt.
And silence.
Yet lately, silence no longer felt empty.
It felt like someone was listening.
---
"Mr. Blackwood?"
Adrian blinked. Across the table, his CFO looked at him expectantly.
"We've finalized the buyout for Harrison Global Holdings. Do you want to move forward?"
His fingers twitched.
Harrison.
That name still tasted like poison.
Lumina's family.
Her father, Marcus Harrison. Her cold, manipulative stepmother, Clarisse. And that snake of a stepsister, Elise—who'd once looked at Lumina like she was vermin living under the same roof.
Adrian's jaw clenched.
"No," he said. "Put it on hold."
A murmur ran through the room.
"Sir?" asked his assistant, Julia.
"I said—put it on hold." His voice was colder this time. Sharper. "That's all. Meeting adjourned."
He stood, the legs of his chair scraping against the polished marble, and walked out—leaving behind confused glances and whispered questions.
---
In the solitude of his office, Adrian poured himself a glass of scotch and stared out over the glittering skyline.
He should've moved on. Everyone said so. Five years was long enough.
But there were things that never stopped gnawing at him. Things he hadn't said. Things he hadn't done.
He hadn't protected her.
He had married her because his grandmother insisted she was "different"—a breath of light in a world of corporate shadows. But he had never given Lumina his full trust.
Instead, he let Seraphina—his closest friend since childhood—poison his view. Whisper suspicions. Undermine his wife's fears. Make him doubt the only woman who ever looked him in the eye and saw through him.
And now? Seraphina sat at his side in meetings, smiling too brightly. Watching too carefully.
It was only a few days ago when he first noticed something strange.
A shipment rerouted. An email sent from a ghost account. A photo—blurry, but familiar. A woman with dark eyes and a scar on her collarbone.
He hadn't been able to sleep since.
---
That evening, Adrian arrived at the Harrison Foundation Gala, held at one of the family's extravagant hotels downtown. He hadn't stepped into Harrison territory in years.
Not since Lumina Harrison was declared dead.
The ballroom sparkled with vanity. Crystal chandeliers. Champagne towers. Smiles that meant nothing.
And there they were.
Marcus Harrison, silver-haired and smug as ever, laughing with political donors.
Clarisse, cold beauty in a crimson dress, her hands dripping in diamonds.
And Elise, the youngest Harrison, now playing the perfect socialite, as if she'd ever known how to be anything but venomous.
Adrian kept to the shadows.
He didn't want to see them.
He wanted to feel something. Anything.
Closure.
But all he felt was the prickling sensation crawling up his neck.
Like eyes on his back.
He turned—and froze.
There, across the ballroom. A flicker. A woman at the top of the stairs. Silver gown. Dark hair. Graceful. Her chin tilted just so.
His heart stopped.
Lumina.
Only for a second.
Then she turned—and was gone.
---
Adrian pushed through the crowd, ignoring whispers and raised brows. He reached the staircase, scanning every hallway, every exit.
Nothing.
A ghost.
Or was it?
---
Back in his car, he gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white.
Could it be her?
No. It couldn't. She was gone.
But if she wasn't—if she was alive and hiding from him—then why?
He reached into the glove box and pulled out his phone. One name flashed on the screen:
Detective Raynor – Cold Case Division
He hadn't spoken to Raynor since the investigation was closed. No body. No suspects. Just whispers that maybe… maybe Lumina had simply wanted out.
He knew better.
He hit "Call."
It rang twice.
"Raynor," came the familiar voice.
"It's Blackwood," Adrian said quietly.
A pause. "You're a voice from the grave."
"I want you to reopen my wife's case."
"Adrian…" Raynor sighed. "That case is dead. No leads. No body."
"I think I saw her tonight."
Silence.
Then, more seriously: "Where?"
---
Across the city, in a dimly lit surveillance room inside a secure safehouse, Elara Vale watched the scene unfold on her screen.
Adrian's face. Shock. Anger. Confusion.
All just as planned.
He had seen her—but not clearly enough to confirm anything.
Behind her, Mara leaned against the desk. "He's calling the detective. Want me to intercept?"
"No," Lumina said. Her voice was calm. Controlled.
Let him dig.
Let him pull apart the threads of the past.
"Let him feel the unease. Let him wonder if she's still alive… and if she ever really loved him."
Mara tilted her head. "Do you?"
Lumina smiled faintly, eyes still on the screen.
"I don't know," she whispered. "But I know he didn't love me enough to protect me."
She tapped the screen, pausing it on Adrian's face.
"He'll get no answers. Only questions. Until I'm ready."