Chapter 3: Shadows Return
1663 Words
Jace’s hands tightened around the bedsheets. He closed his eyes, ready for the kiss—her lips just inches from his.
Then suddenly—
His phone rang.
The sharp sound sliced through the moment, snapping him awake. His eyes opened slowly to the soft morning light slipping through the curtains.
It was just a dream.
A slow breath escaped his lips as he sat up, resting his back against the headboard.
He couldn’t remember the last time a dream had felt that real.
Or the last time a woman had gotten under his skin like this.
What was that about?
Why did it feel like he actually wanted to kiss her?
His phone buzzed again on the nightstand. The name flashed across the screen.
Mom.
Jace sighed. He already knew why she was calling—and he wasn’t in the mood.
He let it ring out.
But it rang again.
Persistent. Just like her.
This time, he picked it up, put it on speaker, and leaned back, eyes closed.
“Hello, Mom.”
“Jace, how did it go?” Margaret’s voice cut straight through the line. No warmth. No greeting. Just business.
Jace sighed.
“What did that old man leave you?”
“Nothing,” he said, opening his eyes. “Nothing at all.”
“What do you mean by nothing?” Margaret snapped. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Jace swung his legs over the bed, elbows resting on his knees.
“The will says I have to work with his other sons—for one year. Inside the company.”
Silence.
Then—
“What?!” she exploded. “That calculating bastard! Even from the grave, he’s still controlling everything!”
Jace didn’t respond.
“What are we going to do now?”
“We’re doing nothing,” he said quietly. “I’m coming back.”
“Coming back? For what?”
“Mom…” He rubbed his forehead. “Let it go. I’m not doing this. I’m not working with them.”
“So you’re just going to give up?” she snapped. “After everything? Just like that?”
“Not planning to,” Jace said coldly. “I gave it up a long time ago. Maybe it’s time you did too.”
“No, you can’t!” she shouted. “You have to stay and fight! That company belongs to you too! You’re his son!”
“Enough, Mom!” Jace snapped, his calm cracking. “I’m not fighting anybody! I’ve got my own business. I’m doing well. I don’t need any damn inheritance from a man who never cared!”
“Jace—”
He grabbed the phone from the nightstand.
“You want to fight? Go ahead. But don’t expect me to be part of it. And just a reminder… you were never his legal wife. You were a mistress. So don’t embarrass yourself.”
He hung up before she could say another word and threw the phone onto the bed like it burned his hand.
His chest rose and fell fast.
He hated talking to her like that.
But why did she always push him?
Why did she never understand?
He leaned forward, hands clasped tight between his knees, trying to breathe.
Then the phone buzzed again.
He blinked, expecting it to be her. Ready to apologize.
But it wasn’t.
“Sir,” the voice came through, flat and clipped. “We tracked him. ‘BB’ is in Germany.”
Jace’s heart stilled.
“What?” he breathed.
His fingers clenched around the phone.
Heat spread through his chest—slow at first, then all at once. His knuckles turned white.
The line went dead.
But Jace didn’t move.
He just stared.
“BB is in this town?” he whispered.
After everything.
After all these years.
That bastard had come here to hide?
Jace had come to Germany for the funeral. For the will.
Now he was ready to leave.
And then this?
He sat slowly on the edge of the bed, his eyes blank as they stared at the floor.
BB.
The man who screwed him and his team out of a multimillion-dollar deal.
The man who vanished without a trace.
The one ghost he hadn’t been able to bury.
No one knew his full name. Just the initials.
BB.
A shadow. A snake. A traitor.
And now… he was here.
Jace picked up his phone again, jaw clenched so tight it ached.
His fingers moved across the screen, shaking from the force of his rage.
"I’ve changed my mind. I’m staying".
Meanwhile in Luca's Penthouse ...............
The headboard slammed hard against the wall. Again. And again.
Her moans were loud—too loud. But Luca didn’t care.
He was moving fast. Rough. Controlled only by the anger curling in his gut.
“God, Luca!” the woman gasped beneath him, clawing at his back like she was in pain. “You’re… so wild today”
He didn’t answer.
Didn’t kiss her.
Didn’t even look at her face.
He just kept going, thrusting into her like she was nothing more than a distraction—because that’s exactly what she was.
A warm body in his bed to shut out the fire in his chest.
But the fire refused to go out.
His mind kept circling back… to that damned will.
One year.
One freaking year working with his brothers or lose everything?
What the hell was the old man thinking?
He pulled out sharply, flipped her to the side, and grunted as he drove back into her harder.
The woman—Cassie? Callie? Whatever—whimpered under him, her hands gripping the sheets like she was holding onto her sanity.
But Luca was barely present.
His jaw clenched. His muscles tensed. His thoughts spiraled.
Leo, with that condescending voice like he was better than everyone.
Jace, calm and cold like none of it mattered.
And then there was him—Luca. The screw-up. The wildcard. The one nobody trusted with anything more than a damn party invitation.
Now he was expected to sit at a boardroom table, wear a suit, and pretend to care?
“Bullshit,” he muttered under his breath.
“What?” the woman asked, breathless.
“Nothing,” Luca snapped.
He slammed into her one last time, groaning low and deep as he came.
Then silence.
The only sound was their breathing—hers soft and satisfied, his sharp and angry.
He pulled away and stood up, not even sparing her a second glance.
His body was sweaty, tense, wired with frustration. He grabbed a towel and wiped himself down, pacing the floor as she laid there, watching him from the bed.
“You okay?” she finally asked, sitting up and adjusting the sheets over her chest.
Luca didn’t answer.
He tossed the towel aside, lit a cigarette, and stared out the window of his penthouse suite.
The city lights blurred in his vision. His thoughts darker than the skyline.
“Luca?”
“Just leave, Kayla.”
She flinched a little at the coldness in his tone.
“It’s Carla.”
He turned, blinking at her like he barely remembered.
“Right. Carla.”
She bit her lip, hurt flickering across her face. “I thought we could talk or maybe grab something after—”
“I said leave.”
His voice was ice. Final.
She scoffed and slipped out of bed, wrapping herself in the robe she’d worn earlier.
“You’re such an asshole, you know that?”
He didn’t flinch. “Takes one to sleep with one.”
Her face twisted in disgust, and without another word, she got dressed, grabbed her things and stormed out.
The door slammed shut.
Luca exhaled slowly. The silence hit him harder than her footsteps had.
Luca sat on the edge of his bed, his hands tangled in his hair, eyes fixed on nothing.
“Damn it…”
His voice was low. Tired. Frustrated.
He leaned back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling like it might give him answers.
That will. That stupid will.
"If the three of you do not come to an agreement within two weeks, all assets will be handed over to a silent partner…"
Luca let out a bitter laugh, short and dry.
“So that’s it, huh?” he muttered.
If they didn’t work together, he’d lose everything. The black cards in his wallet would stop working. His apartment leases, his vacation homes, his lifestyle—all of it gone?
Gone.
He sighed heavily, pressing his palms against his face.
He didn’t have a job. He’d never needed one. He wasn’t like Leo with his suits and control, or Jace with his icy distance and quiet power.
Luca lived.
He partied, traveled, chased thrills.
And now, reality was knocking—hard.
“I’m screwed,” he whispered.
He stood slowly, dragging himself to the mirror. His reflection looked off. Restless eyes. Unshaven jaw. Tired skin.
“Thanks a lot, old fool,” he muttered, buttoning a clean black shirt. “Even in death, you’re still pulling the strings.”
His jacket came next. Then his keys.
He didn’t bother checking his phone. He already knew there were messages he didn’t want to read.
The elevator ride was quiet. So was the penthouse lobby as he passed through it without looking at anyone.
By the time he hit the road, his thoughts were louder than the engine.
He drove with one hand on the wheel, windows half down, wind brushing his face. The city blurred past him, but his mind was stuck.
He didn’t want to see Leo.
He didn’t want to talk to Jace.
But he had no choice now.
Fifteen minutes later, he pulled to a stop.
The tires gave a soft screech as the car halted.
Van Driscoll Global Headquarters was etched in bold silver lettering across the top of the towering glass building.
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