BONDS IN THE SHADOWS

Chapter 2: Shared Histories

Madeline pov

The city lights blurred as I stared at my laptop screen, exhaustion clinging to me like a second skin. I’d spent hours researching the Oakwood Hotel property, trying to piece together its story. Claire had sent over some documents, and curiosity had pulled me down a rabbit hole.

Then I found it.

My heart stopped as I stared at an old photograph buried in an article from years ago. The estate wasn’t just any property—it used to belong to my family. The headline beneath the photo burned in my memory: *“Hart Family Sells Historic Oakwood Estate Amid Financial Crisis.”*

I sank back in my chair, the weight of the revelation pressing against my chest. I remembered faint snippets of the place from my childhood: my mother’s laughter echoing in the garden, my father’s deep voice promising it would always be ours. That was before the accident, before we lost everything.

The article hinted at underhanded dealings that had forced my father to sell. The name “Wolfe Enterprises” was buried in the text like a dagger.

Adrian Wolfe.

Of course, his family would be involved.

The next morning, I stormed into Wolfe Enterprises with a purpose I hadn’t felt in years. My heels clicked against the marble floors as I ignored the receptionist’s protests and threw open the doors to Adrian’s office.

He looked up from his desk, clearly irritated by my unannounced arrival. His office was as sleek and impersonal as he was—all steel and glass, no warmth.

“Ms. Hart,” he said, his tone as cold as the air conditioning. “I wasn’t aware we had a meeting.”

“We don’t,” I snapped, tossing a printed copy of the article onto his desk. “Care to explain this?”

He glanced at the paper, his expression unreadable. “And what, exactly, am I looking at?”

“Don’t play dumb, Wolfe,” I said, my voice rising. “This estate—the one you want me to design a hotel for—used to belong to my family. Your father’s company orchestrated some shady deal to take it from us.”

Adrian leaned back in his chair, his gaze narrowing. “I wasn’t involved in my father’s business dealings. And frankly, I don’t see how this is relevant to the project.”

“It’s relevant because it’s personal,” I shot back. “Do you have any idea what my family went through? We lost everything.”

He didn’t flinch, but I caught the slight tightening of his jaw. “I’m sorry for your loss, Ms. Hart, but I had no part in that.”

His calm, dismissive tone only fueled my anger. “Of course, you didn’t. You just reap the benefits of his actions, right? Must be nice to inherit an empire built on other people’s ruin.”

Adrian stood then, towering over me. His voice was low and sharp, like a blade. “Be careful with your accusations. You don’t know anything about my father or what I’ve had to do to keep this company alive.”

The air between us crackled with tension, neither of us willing to back down. Finally, he sighed and ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair.

“Let me make this clear,” he said. “The estate is part of this project. If you want to back out, that’s your choice. But don’t drag ancient history into this.”

I stared at him, my fists clenched. Part of me wanted to walk out and never look back, but the other part—the part that refused to let the past dictate my future—held me in place.

“Fine,” I said through gritted teeth. “But I’m not letting this go.”

Later that day, I received a call from Adrian. I almost ignored it out of spite, but curiosity got the better of me.

“This is a courtesy,” he said when I answered. His voice was clipped, professional. “There’s a complication with the project.”

“What kind of complication?”

“A legal one,” he said, sounding as if the words left a bitter taste in his mouth. “My father left a clause in his will regarding the Oakwood estate. It stipulates that any development on the property requires both parties—meaning you and me—to live there during the construction phase.”

I blinked, sure I’d misheard. “You’re joking.”

“I don’t joke about legal matters, Ms. Hart.”

I could practically hear the irritation in his voice. The idea of sharing any space with him, let alone an entire estate, made my skin crawl.

“You expect me to uproot my life and move into some mansion just because your father had a strange sense of humor?” I asked.

“I don’t like it any more than you do,” Adrian said. “But if we don’t comply, the project falls apart. And I assume you can’t afford that.”

The jab stung because it was true.

“Fine,” I said, grudgingly. “But don’t expect me to play nice.”

“Believe me,” he said, his voice dropping into something almost threatening. “I never do.”

Two days later, I arrived at the Oakwood estate with a single suitcase and a chip on my shoulder. The mansion loomed before me like a relic of a forgotten era, its grandeur muted by years of neglect.

Adrian was already there, overseeing a team of staff unpacking his belongings. He didn’t acknowledge me as I walked past him, but I felt his eyes on me, assessing.

The interior was stunning in a cold, distant way—polished floors, towering ceilings, and ornate fixtures that seemed out of place in the modern world.

“I’ve assigned you a room in the east wing,” Adrian said, his tone brisk. “I’ll be in the west. Let’s try to stay out of each other’s way.”

“Gladly,” I muttered under my breath.

As I unpacked in my room, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being trapped—not just in this house, but in a story I didn’t ask to be part of. Adrian might claim he wasn’t responsible for the sins of his father, but to

me, he represented everything I’d lost.

And I wasn’t about to let him forget it.