Chapter 103

Sean POV

I stepped out of the steaming shower, wrapping a plush hotel towel around my waist as water droplets traced paths down my chest.

My phone lit up on the nightstand-Christina's name flashing for what must have been the fifth time that hour. I glanced at it with irritation before moving to the walk-in closet, the device falling silent only to light up again moments later.

A sharp knock at the suite's door interrupted my thoughts. With a sigh of irritation, I pulled on a pair of loose linen pants and left the closet door half-open.

"Mr. Shaw?" Sarah's voice carried through the door. "Miss Jordan is here to see you. She's quite insistent."

My jaw tightened.

"Let her in,"

Christina stepped in front of me, looking as flawless as always

"Sean," she greeted, her voice a practiced melody of warmth and concern. "You haven't been answering my calls."

I moved past her to the bar, pouring a finger of scotch without offering her anything. "I've been busy."

Christina stood awkwardly in the center of the living area, her Louboutins sinking slightly into the plush carpet. "I've heard you've been drinking quite heavily lately, Sean. That can't be good for your health."

"Yes." I took a slow sip, not elaborating further.

Christina walked over to me, her perfume overwhelming my senses as she drew near. With a gentle but firm motion, she took the glass from my hand and placed it on the side table.

"Sean, you know I care about you," she said softly. "Drinking won't solve anything."

Christina's smile strained at the edges as she tried again. "How have you been feeling? Doctor Carter mentioned your last checkup showed improvement."

"I'm fine." I turned toward my bedroom, iPad in hand. "If that's all, I have emails to address before dinner."

"Sean," Christina called after me, her composure cracking slightly. "What's wrong? You've been so distant lately."

I paused at the bedroom threshold, not bothering to turn around. "Nothing's wrong. Everything is exactly as it should be."

Flashback

Five years earlier, I sat behind my massive mahogany desk at Shaw Tower, watching Christina's face transition from expectant hope to confusion, then shock as I delivered my decision.

"I appreciate everything you've done," I said, keeping my voice calm and measured. "Especially saving my life during the yacht accident. I'll always be grateful for that."

Christina leaned forward, her fingers gripping the edge of my desk. "But? I hear a 'but' coming, Sean."

"But I can't give you what you want," I continued, meeting her gaze directly. "I thought I could, but I was wrong."

"This is about Angela, isn't it?" Christina's voice trembled. "She left you, Sean. She chose Christopher Blake over you, and you're still holding onto her?"

My expression remained impassive. "This isn't about Angela. It's about being honest with you, and with myself."

In the weeks that followed, Christina called, texted, even appeared at my office unannounced, only to be politely but firmly turned away. Eventually, her approach shifted-from desperate pursuit to patient waiting. She began attending the same charity events as my family, carefully cultivating a relationship with my mother and father.

"Time," she'd assured me at a gala six months after Angela's departure. "I understand you need time. I'll wait."

And wait she had. Five years of carefully orchestrated appearances, of being the supportive friend who understood my mysterious melancholy, of becoming practically part of my family's inner circle.

Yet for all her efforts, nothing changed within me-I remained polite but distant, acknowledging her presence without truly seeing her.

"Will you be attending the Lawrence Capital charity auction tonight?" Christina asked, pulling me back to the present. "Victoria asked me to make sure you attend, and specifically requested that I accompany you this evening."

I glanced at my watch. The last thing I needed was Victoria worrying about me again. Ever since Angela left, Victoria had repeatedly urged me to move forward, to begin new relationships.

"Life is too short to dwell in the past, Sean," she would say with that concerned look in her eyes.

If I refused Christina's request, Victoria would undoubtedly arrange for another companion to accompany me-she'd done it before, with disastrous results.

"I'll be there," I conceded, more for my mother's sake than anything else.

Christina's face brightened immediately. "Wonderful! I'll wear the Dior gown I've been saving for a special occasion. The emerald color will look striking beside your black tuxedo."

"Don't wait for me," I replied, turning back to my bedroom. "I'll meet you there."

"Of course,eight o'clock?"

I nodded without looking back, listening to her retreating footsteps and the soft thud of the suite door closing behind her.

My car came to a stop outside the charity auction, and I caught sight of Christina making her way toward me.

"Sean," she breathed, stepping forward and reaching for my arm.

I moved subtly, maintaining a careful distance between us as we approached the entrance.

Christina's six-inch heels caught on the edge of a step, causing her to stumble slightly.

"Those shoes seem impractical," I observed coolly, not reaching to assist her. "Perhaps you should consider changing them."

Christina's smile remained fixed, though her eyes flashed with hurt.

Can't you just hold onto me? You really can't bear to see me twist my ankle, can you?

Something hardened in my expression, but after a moment, I extended my arm mechanically.

Christina took it with poorly concealed triumph, her posture straightening as we passed a cluster of socialites who had been observing our interaction with undisguised interest.

I caught fragments of their whispered conversation as we walked by-my name, Christina's, and inevitably, Angela's.

Even after five years, the social circles of Manhattan hadn't forgotten the woman who had vanished from my life without a trace.

Christina basked in the reflected attention, her posture perfect as she sat beside me during the bidding.

I barely registered the proceedings, my responses automatic when addressed. Midway through a particularly competitive bidding war for a Monet, something caught my eye at the edge of the crowd-a flash of movement, a familiar silhouette.

My heart seemed to stutter in my chest as I caught a glimpse of a slender woman with dark hair, her profile hauntingly familiar before she turned away. Without conscious thought, I rose from my seat, ignoring the startled looks from those around me.

"Sean?" Christina's voice faded into background noise as I moved purposefully through the crowd, my eyes fixed on the disappearing figure.

By the time I reached the spot where she had stood, the woman was gone.

Had it been real?

Or merely another ghost conjured by my stubborn memory, as had happened countless times before?

"Sean!" Christina appeared at my side, concern etched across her perfect features. "What happened? "

I didn't answer, still searching the dispersing crowd below the museum steps.

"I'm leaving," I said finally, my voice flat.

"But the auction isn't over," Christina protested.

"I don't care." I signaled to my driver, who immediately pulled the car around.

Christina hesitated only briefly before following me down the steps. "I'll come with you. You seem... unsettled."