BONDS UNBROKEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Chapter Eleven

The days slid into each other like pages in a book Briella didn’t remember opening. At work, she was punctual, precise, and polished. Her reports were flawless, her presentations smooth, her tone clipped and formal whenever she addressed Marcellus. The staff had started whispering about how competent she was, how much she resembled him in her seriousness.

It should have made her proud. Instead, it made her feel hollow.

That morning, as she handed Marcellus a set of documents across the long boardroom table, their fingers brushed for less than a second. She pulled her hand back instantly, face neutral, but her heart betrayed her.

Flash—

A younger Marcellus, grinning wide under the summer sun, pulling her by the wrist through the park because she didn’t want to ride the carousel but he insisted. “Come on, Ella! Trust me, it’ll be fun!”

The memory stung, and she forced her eyes down, tapping her pen against the folder to steady her hands.

“Is there an issue, Miss Tristan?” Marcellus’s deep voice cut into the silence.

She lifted her head, expression blank. “None, Chairman. I’ll have the updated drafts on your desk before noon.”

And just like that, she walked out without a glance back.

But the moment the door closed behind her, another memory crashed in—

Marcellus, sitting cross-legged on the grass with a guitar he barely knew how to play. Christopher beside him, laughing until he fell over. Briella in the middle, clapping offbeat but too happy to care.

She swallowed hard, pressing a palm to her chest. Stay professional. Stay professional.

Later in the day, she sat at her desk finalizing a presentation. Her phone buzzed again with a message from Annabel in the group chat.

Annabel: So… have you smiled yet? Or are you keeping up your Ice Queen act? 👀

Briella typed quickly.

Briella: Ice Queen. It’s easier this way.

Christopher: She’s lying. She remembers things. I bet she’s drowning in flashbacks already.

Her hands froze over the keyboard. Sometimes she hated how well Christopher saw through her. She locked her phone and shoved it into her drawer, muttering under her breath.

By evening, after a long meeting where she barely spoke unless spoken to, Briella stepped into the elevator. She caught her reflection in the mirrored walls—her hair sleek, her suit crisp, her face unreadable. A stranger.

Yet in her mind, she saw herself years ago, sitting on a swing with Marcellus pushing her gently, telling her not to be afraid of falling because he’d always be there to catch her.

The elevator dinged, breaking the thought. She walked out, head high, her footsteps echoing on the marble floor. Cold. Professional. Perfect.

But inside, every step whispered with the weight of the boy she used to know.

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✨ End of Chapter Eleven ✨