Chapter 17: Mistaken Identity
765 Words
Elena’s mornings had become a blur of fabric samples, investor emails, and scheduled fittings. The countdown to the international fashion summit in Milan consumed every waking moment. Her designs had gained traction across Europe, and this event was her moment—the one her late father had dreamed of for her. His legacy would walk the runway.
She didn’t even look up when her secretary, knocked softly on the glass partition of her private office.
“Someone dropped by earlier. He didn’t leave a name but said it was important.”
“Oh, Levi?” Elena murmured, eyes glued to her laptop screen, where a list of final adjustments glared back at her.
“Probably here to drop off lunch again. Just tell him to leave it in the lounge.”
Irene hesitated. “I... I thought it wasn’t him, ma’am. The man looked—”
But Elena waved her off distractedly. “It’s fine. Let him in.”
The secretary lips tightened into a line, but she left without another word.
Unbeknownst to Elena, it wasn’t Levi who had come.
It was Callum.
He’d stood outside her building for nearly an hour, debating whether to walk in. He hadn’t seen her since that bitter afternoon, Callum had gone quiet after that. It wasn’t just the shame of the fistfight or the tension that boiled into violence. It was the realization that maybe she didn’t need or want him anymore.
But today, something had changed.
He carried with himself—nothing grand, just his own. A final attempt to say what words had failed him before. There were no expectations, no requests. Just honesty.
He made it to the front desk before Levi emerged from the elevator like a shadow.
“Not today, Callum,” Levi said, cool and practiced.
Callum’s jaw clenched. “She deserves to decide for herself.”
Levi smiled. “She already has. She just doesn’t know it yet.”
They stood in silence as Callum offered the envelope. Levi glanced at it, then took it—and smoothly tucked it into his coat pocket.
“She’s not free,” Levi added, voice low. “Not anymore.”
Callum turned without a word and left.
Back upstairs, Elena was too busy reviewing her keynote speech for Milan to notice anything wrong. She hadn’t seen Levi today, but that wasn’t unusual. He often appeared late in the afternoon with a takeout bag and some teasing comment about how she needed to eat to create.
What she didn’t know was that Levi had intercepted again for many times, but the very chance Callum had hoped for.
Irene lingered near the hallway, troubled. She had seen Callum before, back when he used to escort Elena after meetings or bring her coffee during campaign pitches. The man who came today looked tired—but still the same.
She glanced at her phone, debating whether to text Elena. But she was just a secretary. This was beyond her role. Besides, what if she was wrong?
That evening, Levi arrived like clockwork. He brought Elena her favorite dumplings, casually mentioning he’d “run into traffic” earlier in the day.
“Irene said someone came by,” Elena said, stretching her arms over her head. “Was that you?”
Levi paused, then smiled. “Probably. I might’ve dropped something earlier.”
“Did you leave something with her?”
“Just you,” he said with a playful wink.
Elena rolled her eyes but chuckled, too tired to press further.
Levi’s mind, however, was working overtime. He couldn’t afford for Callum to reach her—not now. Elena was finally moving forward. She was blooming again, her success dazzling and untethered. Callum’s presence would only bring shadows.
As Levi set the food down and watched her from across the table, he wondered how long he could keep this up.
Because despite everything, she still hadn’t called him ‘hers.’
And despite everything, Levi was afraid he was the only one playing to win a game she hadn’t even agreed to.
Meanwhile, across the city, Callum returned to a rented apartment—bare, quiet, and filled with old notebooks and muted regrets.
He stared at the moon outside. It wasn’t much. Just an apology. A confession that he had stepped away not because he didn’t care—but because he cared too much to taint her progress with his history.
He didn’t blame her for forgetting him. But he couldn’t forget her.
And he was starting to wonder if Levi had planned it that way all along.
- Writer
