Chapter 10 — ECHOES OF THE PAST
The sound of morning rain was steady and soft, the kind that made Elaris City shimmer with silver light.
Inside Wynn’s Blossoms, Cathy Duke moved through the aisles quietly, trimming stems, changing the water in vases. The scent of lilies and white roses filled the air, peaceful, familiar.
But her mind was anything but calm.
The letter sat folded in her pocket.
Vale Corporation.
She’d reread the name so many times that it felt burned into her skin.
She hadn’t meant to keep it, hadn’t meant to snoop, but something about the way Adrian had reacted last night… the shadow in his eyes… told her the truth wasn’t simple.
She knew everyone had secrets. She had hers too.
But she had learned that secrets, no matter how well hidden, always echoed.
And lately, she could hear Adrian’s echo everywhere.
Later that morning, the shop bell tinkled softly.
Mrs. Wynn, Cathy’s mother, stepped in from the drizzle, her hair tucked under a pastel scarf. Her smile was gentle but her eyes, as always, saw too much.
“Good morning, love,” she greeted, hanging her umbrella. “You’ve been up since dawn again, haven’t you?”
Cathy smiled and nodded, wiping her hands.
Mrs. Wynn studied her daughter, the brightness in her eyes, the way she hummed quietly while arranging tulips.
Something was different.
“Is there someone new in your world?” she asked softly.
Cathy froze mid-motion. Her cheeks colored, and she ducked her head, reaching for her notepad.
Why do you ask?
Her mother chuckled. “Because you’ve been smiling at the rain lately.”
Cathy sighed, cheeks deepening in pink, and finally wrote:
His name’s Adrian. He’s kind.
Mrs. Wynn’s smile faded slightly. “Kind is good. But careful, my darling. Kind people can still hide sharp edges.”
Cathy looked up, surprised.
Her mother reached over and touched her hand. “I don’t mean to frighten you. I just know that love, the real kind, never needs to be rushed or disguised. It should feel safe.”
Cathy nodded slowly, her thoughts already drifting to the man with the storm in his eyes.
Meanwhile, across the city, inside a sleek glass tower overlooking the harbor, Gabriel Vale stood with his hands clasped behind his back.
The office was silent, save for the rhythmic click of rain against the windows.
On the wall behind him, framed photographs displayed a life of power: the founding of Vale Industries, award ceremonies, glossy magazine covers — and, hidden among them, a family portrait.
A much younger Adrian, standing beside his father, eyes distant even then.
Gabriel stared at it for a long moment. Then he said to his assistant, “He’s been gone for three years. I want him found. Quietly.”
“Yes, sir,” the assistant replied. “We’ve traced an alias. Adrian Rivers — working in design and architecture.”
“Architecture?” Gabriel mused, his tone sharp. “So he’s still building dreams instead of empires.”
The assistant hesitated. “There’s also a woman.”
Gabriel turned, expression cold. “A woman?”
“Yes. She runs a small flower shop in the city. They’ve been seen together often.”
A silence stretched, heavy and deliberate. Then Gabriel said quietly, “Find out who she is. Anyone close to Adrian becomes a liability. And I will not have liabilities.”
That evening, Cathy was closing up the shop when she heard a soft knock at the door.
Her heart lifted, she didn’t need to look to know who it was.
Adrian Rivers stood outside, raincoat glistening with droplets, a shy smile on his face.
She unlocked the door and let him in, the warm light spilling onto the street behind him.
“I hope I’m not intruding,” he said gently. “I was just… in the neighborhood.”
She picked up her notepad.
You always say that. I’m starting to think you live in the neighborhood.
He chuckled, his eyes warm. “Maybe I just like the view.”
Her cheeks flushed.
He took a step closer, glancing around at the soft glow of flowers, the faint hum of music from her small speaker. “It’s beautiful here,” he murmured. “Like the world stops at the door.”
She wrote:
Maybe that’s why I stay.
He nodded, his voice soft. “Maybe that’s why I come back.”
They shared tea again, sitting on the floor among the scattered petals and ribbons. Adrian watched her arrange a bouquet — her fingers steady, graceful.
“Do you ever miss speaking?” he asked quietly.
Cathy hesitated, thinking. Then she wrote:
Sometimes. Not the sound, just being understood faster.
He nodded slowly. “You know, sometimes I wish I could stop speaking altogether.”
She tilted her head, curious.
He smiled faintly. “When words become weapons, silence is mercy.”
Her eyes softened. She didn’t know what wounds his words came from, but she felt the weight of them, deep, old, unhealed.
After a while, she stood to put away the last vase. When she turned, she saw Adrian leaning against the counter, his expression caught between warmth and sorrow.
She reached for her notepad.
You look sad again.
He hesitated, then said quietly, “Do you believe people can escape who they are?”
She frowned slightly, writing:
I think people can choose who they want to become.
Adrian stared at the words for a long moment, then smiled — a small, tired smile. “Then I hope you’re right.”
He reached into his pocket, pulling out a silver pen. “This belonged to my mother,” he said softly. “She used to say every builder needs something that reminds them why they create, not just what.”
He placed it gently on the counter. “I want you to have it.”
Cathy looked at him, startled. Then shook her head, No, it’s too precious.
But he smiled. “Please. I think she’d have liked you.”
Her throat tightened. She took the pen, holding it carefully, like something sacred.
When she looked up, Adrian was still watching her — the city lights flickering in his eyes, the faintest trace of pain behind his calm.
Something in her heart whispered:
He’s saying goodbye without saying it.
That night, after he left, Cathy sat by her window, tracing the engraved initials on the pen.
A.V.
She smiled at first — Adrian Vale, she thought absently. Then froze.
Her mind replayed the letter she’d seen.
The V on the envelope.
The Vale Corporation.
Her breath caught.
Adrian Rivers.
Adrian Vale.
Pieces began to fall together, too perfectly to be coincidence.
She pressed her palm to her chest, heart pounding.
He wasn’t just keeping a secret.
He was the secret.
And in that moment, the city lights outside blurred with tears she didn’t expect.
Because suddenly, she wasn’t sure which hurt more — that he had lied…
or that she still couldn’t stop loving him.
Far across the river, in the glass tower, Gabriel Vale looked at the photo of his son again.
“Bring him home,” he said softly, a strange mix of pride and regret in his tone.
“And whoever stands in his way… make them forget him.”
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