The ghost between us
1660 Words
The storm that rolled in over Crescent City the next morning didn’t belong to the sky.
It belonged to Dorian Xu.
Rain battered the glass walls of his penthouse like the world itself was trying to get in, to shake him awake. The lights of the city shimmered through the downpour—silver veins on black marble. He’d been up all night, surrounded by stacks of documents, half-drained whiskey, and the cold glow of a dozen open screens.
Chloe Lee.
That name had begun to feel like a curse.
He didn’t know why she had resurfaced, or why her presence made his heartbeat stumble in ways he couldn’t control. But he knew this: she was hiding something. Something dangerous.
He leaned forward, typing her name into his encrypted database again. “Chloe Mei Lee. Born February 12, 2000. Daughter of Jonathan and Lian Lee. Crescent Academy graduate. Perfect record…”
His voice trailed off as his cursor hovered over a missing period in her file. Between 2017 and 2019, there was nothing. No records, no posts, no transactions. It was as if she had vanished.
Then, at the edge of a forgotten police report, he found a single reference:
> Incident Report #3741 – Crescent Academy Dormitory – Student Hospitalized
Victim: Ethan Cho
Witnesses: Chloe Lee, Dorian Xu
Status: Unexplained trauma. Case closed.
The air thickened around him.
That night. The screaming. The blood on his sleeve.
He had buried it so deep that even his nightmares didn’t dare dig it up.
He remembered fragments — Chloe’s trembling hands, her voice whispering something he couldn’t understand, and the way Ethan’s eyes rolled back as if something unseen had entered him.
Dorian’s jaw clenched. He shut the laptop and stared into the window’s reflection.
For the first time in years, he looked unsure.
“Who are you, Chloe?” he whispered to the city. “And why do I still remember your eyes like they own me?”
---
Morning drifted in like fog through a battlefield.
Across town, Chloe sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her reflection in the vanity mirror. Her eyes looked hollow, rimmed with exhaustion.
On her wrist, faint marks had appeared overnight—thin, dark veins curling upward like inked vines. She traced them with trembling fingers.
“No,” she breathed. “Not again.”
The curse had been quiet for years, dormant since the night she’d left Crescent Academy. But Dorian’s sudden reappearance had stirred something ancient and cruel within her.
She thought she had outgrown it, outrun it. But the Lee family curse always found its way home.
She rose, pulling on a silk robe, and moved to the window. The rain had stopped, but the air felt heavy—like the world was holding its breath.
Her phone buzzed. A text from her father.
> Dinner tonight at the Meridian Tower. Xu family confirmed. Be civil. Dress sharp.
Her stomach dropped.
The Xu family. Dorian.
She dropped the phone onto the bed, letting out a bitter laugh. “Perfect. Let’s dine with ghosts.”
---
Evening fell with a thousand glittering lights.
The restaurant at the top of Meridian Tower was made entirely of glass, suspended above Crescent City’s skyline. The chandeliers glowed like captured stars, and the tables gleamed with crystal and silver.
Chloe entered with her father, her crimson dress brushing her knees. She looked breathtaking, but not in a fragile way — she was a wildfire dressed in silk. Every movement was sharp, deliberate, calculated.
And yet, as soon as she stepped inside, she felt it.
A presence. Cold. Familiar.
Her gaze slid across the room — and stopped.
Dorian Xu stood near the balcony, his back straight, a glass of whiskey in hand. The city lights burned in his reflection. His suit was black with subtle patterns of silver thread, a dangerous kind of elegance that matched his aura perfectly.
Their eyes met.
For a heartbeat, the world forgot how to breathe.
“Miss Lee,” he greeted when she approached, voice low, rich, and composed.
“Mr. Xu,” she returned, keeping her tone neutral. “I almost didn’t recognize you without the glare.”
His lips curved faintly. “I could say the same. I see the claws are still sharp.”
“Claws keep predators away.”
He tilted his head, studying her. “You sure about that?”
She didn’t answer. But the silence between them said enough.
They were seated across from each other at the long marble table, surrounded by their families — the Xus, the Lees, and a handful of business partners pretending not to notice the electricity in the air.
Her father began his usual speech — alliances, expansion, legacy. Dorian’s father, Lord Xu, nodded in approval. They spoke of numbers, territories, partnerships.
But Dorian wasn’t listening. His eyes never left Chloe.
Something about her didn’t make sense. Her pulse was too slow. Her aura felt wrong — like she existed half in this world and half in another.
He spoke quietly, so no one else could hear. “Where did you go, after the academy?”
Her fork froze midair. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
She turned to him, her voice softer but edged with warning. “There are places even you can’t buy access to, Dorian. Not with money. Not with blood.”
“Then how did you get there?”
Her smile was sad, almost nostalgic. “I didn’t. I was dragged.”
Before he could respond, a loud clatter broke the moment.
One of Dorian’s men had dropped his wine glass. It shattered, red liquid spilling like blood.
The man bent to pick it up—and gasped. Thin, deep cuts lined his fingers, bleeding freely.
“Careless,” Dorian said, though his tone was colder than usual. He glanced at Chloe. She was staring at the man’s hand, face pale, lips parted slightly.
The vines on her wrist pulsed once, faintly.
“Go,” Dorian ordered the guard. “Get that cleaned up.”
The man nodded, stumbling away.
Chloe’s breathing quickened. She could feel the curse waking, coiling inside her veins, hungry for more.
“Stop it,” she whispered to herself.
“Stop what?” Dorian asked sharply.
She blinked. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
He didn’t buy it. His gaze hardened, but he said nothing more as the dinner carried on in brittle small talk.
When it was finally over, Chloe slipped out to the balcony, desperate for air. The city spread beneath her like an ocean of gold.
She gripped the railing, letting the wind cool her burning skin. Her pulse was racing, her wrist throbbing beneath her bracelet.
“Running away already?”
The voice was smooth, familiar, dangerous.
She turned. Dorian stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, the night breeze tugging at his dark hair.
“Can’t imagine you came out here for the view,” he said.
“Can’t imagine you followed me for small talk,” she shot back.
He smirked faintly and walked toward her. The sound of his shoes on the marble floor echoed in the silence between them.
“Why did you disappear?” he asked.
Her heartbeat skipped. “You remember that?”
“I remember everything.” He stopped a foot away, eyes dark and sharp. “Especially the things that don’t add up.”
“You should’ve forgotten,” she said softly. “It’s safer that way.”
“I don’t forget what’s mine.”
Her breath caught. “Yours?”
He didn’t blink. “We both know something happened that night. You ran. I covered for you. And now you show up again, like nothing ever—”
“Stop,” she cut in, voice trembling. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then tell me,” he demanded.
She turned away, looking out at the skyline. The reflection of the city lights shimmered in her eyes like tears.
“If I told you,” she said finally, “you’d wish you never met me.”
Dorian stepped closer until his reflection merged with hers in the glass. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Too late for that.”
The wind howled between them. Somewhere below, thunder rolled across the sea.
For a moment, neither spoke. Then Chloe turned to face him — and for the briefest second, Dorian saw it.
Her pupils dilated, the black spreading unnaturally wide. The faint outline of the vines on her wrist glowed beneath her skin like ember veins.
He took a slow step back, trying to mask his shock. “What the hell…”
She grabbed his hand suddenly, her fingers ice-cold. “Listen to me. Whatever you think you saw — forget it. Forget me.”
“I can’t.”
Her eyes softened — a flicker of sadness, almost love, crossed them. Then she let go, stepping back into the shadows.
“Then I’m sorry, Dorian,” she whispered. “Because if you don’t… this city will bury us both.”
He wanted to ask what she meant, but before he could speak, a violent gust of wind blew through the balcony. The lights flickered, and somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed.
When he looked up again, she was gone.
All that remained was the faint scent of jasmine — and the echo of her voice, lingering in the rain.
---
Dorian stood there long after she disappeared. The storm above the city had returned, lightning cutting through the clouds like veins of light.
His pulse pounded, his mind spinning. Every instinct told him to walk away. To forget her, just like she asked.
But he couldn’t.
He’d seen too much.
And now, for the first time in his life, Dorian Xu wasn’t chasing money, power, or dominance.
He was chasing a ghost.
- Writer
