College Resumption
1104 Words
Immediately after Ava disappeared into the main building, I should have left.
But instead, I stood there for a few seconds, staring at the entrance.
Students moved about, smiling, chatting, and meeting new people.
Ava was now one of them. A college student.
A bad feeling settled in my chest.
I got into my car and reversed out of the parking lot of Pasadena University.
This was why I had stayed away for a month. The distance had been meant to solve problems, not create new ones.
Soon, I was on the main road, heading toward Virelli Petroleum Headquarters.
I had taken over the Pasadena headquarters immediately after my college exams ended, and today I had a meeting regarding a major merger.
My phone buzzed halfway through the drive.
I ignored it.
A second buzz followed almost immediately. Then a third.
Annoyed, I picked it up at a red light. My expression darkened when I saw the name.
Unknown.
It was Ava.
How did she even get this number?
The answer came almost instantly.
Davis.
Of course. The i***t.
A memory flashed through my mind from the day before his flight.
“Don’t give her my number.”
Davis had laughed.
“She’s staying alone in my house, Christien.”
“She has her father.”
“And you’re my emergency contact if something happens.”
“No.”
“Too late.”
I had ended the conversation there.
Apparently, he hadn’t been joking.
The phone buzzed again. A text this time.
Unknown Number: Is this really you or Davis gave me the wrong number?
I immediately looked away from the screen.
Ridiculous.
Completely ridiculous.
I should have blocked the number.
Instead, I placed the phone face down beside me and continued driving.
Which was somehow worse.
Because now I was thinking about it. Thinking about her. Again.
By the time I reached Virelli Headquarters, my mood had worsened considerably.
The glass tower rose above downtown Pasadena like it owned the skyline. In many ways, it did.
The Virelli name carried enough influence to open doors in places most people would never even see.
Employees straightened when they saw me entering the building. Some nodded. Others stepped aside.
I acknowledged none of them.
Twenty-four years old, and the respect I received was on the same level as my father’s.
Most people feared me because of my reputation. The tattoos and piercing only made it easier.
I never smiled at anyone.
I stepped into the private elevator and pressed the top floor.
The doors slid shut.
For a moment, the silence returned.
Then my phone buzzed again.
I didn’t need to look. I already knew who it was.
I closed my eyes briefly.
This day had barely started.
And Ava was already becoming a distraction.
***
A few seconds later, I stepped into the boardroom.
“Good morning, Mr. Virelli,” one of the executives greeted.
I took my seat at the head of the table.
The meeting began immediately.
Oil contracts. International negotiations. Acquisitions. Billions of dollars moving across the world—the kind of decisions that shaped industries, governments, and entire economies.
My phone buzzed again. My jaw tightened.
I picked it up briefly.
Ava.
Before I could put it down, one of the executives shut his laptop. The sound echoed across the boardroom.
Everyone looked up.
He cleared his throat nervously.
“Mr. Virelli,” he began.
The room grew quieter.
“With all due respect, some members of the board have concerns.”
I leaned back slightly.
“What concerns?”
“You graduated college only recently,” he said.
Nobody moved. Nobody interrupted.
“And yet we’re expected to take instructions from someone who has never truly run a company before.”
The room went silent.
I looked at him for a long moment.
Then I spoke.
“How old were you when you became a board member?”
“Thirty-eight,” he replied.
“And in all those years, Virelli Petroleum remained in the same position.”
His expression stiffened.
“You’ve had fourteen years on this board,” I continued calmly. “I’ve had a few weeks.”
Another pause.
“Yet somehow you’re worried about my age instead of your results.”
A few executives shifted uncomfortably.
“You see a twenty-four-year-old,” I said, “I see a man who needed fourteen years to achieve what I achieved before graduation.”
Silence followed.
Then….
“Excellent answer.”
Every head turned instantly.
The doors opened.
My father entered.
Chairman Alessandro Virelli.
The room changed immediately.
Even the air felt heavier.
He glanced briefly at the executive.
“If experience alone created success, most of this board would be billionaires.”
No one responded.
“The meeting is over,” he said.
Instantly, everyone stood. Laptops closed. Chairs moved. Within moments, the room emptied.
No one wanted to be left alone with Alessandro Virelli.
Not even me.
The doors shut.
Silence settled.
He walked slowly to the head of the table, then stopped.
“Who were you talking to?”
My expression stayed neutral.
“No one important.”
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“Wrong answer.”
My grip tightened under the table.
“I saw you look at your phone,” he said calmly.
That was always when he was most dangerous.
“And I saw your face.”
My jaw tightened.
“It was a message.”
“Obviously.”
“The question is why it affected you.”
I didn’t answer.
He studied me like a flaw he had finally noticed.
“You’ve worn the same expression since you were sixteen,” he said. “Cold. Controlled. Predictable.”
A pause.
“Today was different.”
The room felt smaller.
“I don’t know what has your attention. But something does.”
I looked away first.
A mistake. He noticed.
“Distraction is weakness, Christien.”
“Weakness becomes attachment.”
“Attachment becomes vulnerability.”
He leaned slightly closer.
“And vulnerability destroys men.”
The scars on my back seemed to burn.
“Keep control of whatever this is,” he said quietly. “Or I will.”
Silence.
Then he straightened his jacket.
“Enjoy your afternoon.”
And just like that, he left.
Leaving me alone in the boardroom.
Alone with the warning.
And the phone still beside me.
The screen lit up again.
Ava:
Are you ignoring me on purpose?
I stared at the message.
Then I laughed once.
A short, humorless sound.
Because for the first time in years…
My father wasn’t completely wrong.
Something was distracting me.
- Writer
