Chapter five: Ghosts in the morning
1073 Words
Chapter five: Ghosts in the morning
My heart dropped.
No. Not now.
I stared at the screen, hoping the message would change or disappear. But it stayed there, bold and clear.
Ronan.
The one name I’d erased from my vocabulary. The ghost I’d buried under six feet of ambition and denial.
I hadn’t heard from him in nearly a year. Not since...
No. I wasn’t going there.
Not in Damien’s bed. Not in Damien’s house.
And yet, the moment I saw his name, everything I'd tried to forget came clawing back.
The lies.
The betrayal.
The way he broke me, then had the audacity to say he was the one hurting.
I got out of bed and padded to the ensuite bathroom, turning on the water too hot, just to feel something that wasn’t panic. Steam filled the space fast. I stood under the stream, letting the pressure beat down on my skin like a punishment I wasn’t sure I deserved.
Why now?
Why today?
Thirty minutes later, I was dressed in a cozy, oversized sweater and leggings—something soft, something real. I was in the kitchen making tea when Ava appeared, like the efficiency goddess she was.
“Morning, Miss Monroe,” she greeted, placing an envelope on the island.
“You don’t have to call me that,” I said, watching her with curiosity.
She smiled politely. “Old habits.”
I nodded toward the envelope. “What’s that?”
“Damien left this for you before his flight. He’s in D.C. for the day. He will be back late tonight.”
“Flight?” I tried not to let my disappointment show.
“He mentioned it was last minute. A merger negotiation.”
Of course. Damien Carter and his empires.
I opened the envelope. Inside was a single note, written in clean, bold handwriting.
“You surprised me last night. In a good way. I’ll be thinking of that smile all day.
— D”
I closed it quickly, as if that would stop my heart from racing.
Ava cleared her throat. “Also, there’s a visitor downstairs. Says he knows you.”
My head snapped up. “What? Who?”
“He said his name is Ronan Blackwell.”
Her words hit like a sucker punch to the ribs.
“He insisted it was personal. I told security to keep him downstairs until I got your approval.”
I gripped the edge of the counter, knuckles white. “Thanks, Ava. Give me a minute.”
As soon as she left, I walked to the living room windows, the cityscape stretching like a silent audience before me.
Ronan Blackwell.
The man who once made me believe in forever and then shattered it with secrets. The man I hadn’t expected to face, especially not while fake-dating a billionaire in a designer penthouse that wasn’t even mine.
I should’ve ignored the message. I should’ve told Ava to send him away.
But I didn’t.
Because part of me needed to see him. To prove to myself and maybe to him too that he no longer had a hold on me. I took a deep breath and headed to the elevator. My heart beating because of the thought of Damien seeing me with Ronan. Would he be angry, or maybe Jealous. I pushed my thought aside when the elevator dinged also remembering that Damien wouldn’t be home until whenever.
Ronan was standing in the lobby when I got off the elevator. He hadn’t changed much. Still tall, still impeccably dressed in that moody-architect kind of way. But his eyes those sharp green eyes looked tired. Regretful.
“Isla,” he breathed like my name still belonged to him.
“Keep your voice down,” I said, arms crossed.
“I just need five minutes.”
“You don’t get five minutes.” But even as I said it, I was motioning to the hallway that led to a private lounge space. It was either that or make a scene in Damien’s building, which I refused to do.
Once we were inside, I faced him. “Say what you came to say.”
He looked at me like he hadn’t slept in days. “I saw the photos. You and Damien. That’s not real.”
I laughed. “That’s what you came here for? To fact-check my i********: life?”
“Don’t do this,” he said. “You’re not like him.”
“You don’t know him,” I shot back.
“But I know you. You hate pretense. You used to say you’d rather fail honestly than succeed in someone else’s lie.”
I bit down on the inside of my cheek, hard. “Things change.”
He stepped closer, but I held up a hand.
“No. You don’t get to come back after all this time and lecture me on who I am.”
“I made a mistake,” he said. “I let my fear ruin us. But I never stopped loving you.”
His words hung there, like smoke in the air.
And I realized… I didn’t feel what I used to.
Not longing. Not pain.
Just… hollow disinterest.
“I’m not yours anymore, Ronan.”
“I’m not asking you to be. I’m just asking you to listen. Damien Carter isn’t what he seems. Whatever you think you’re doing, playing house with him, pretending—it’s dangerous. He’s—”
I cut him off. “You don’t get to talk about him. Or warn me. Or pretend you care when you didn’t even have the decency to say goodbye.”
He looked wrecked. Good.
“Isla…” He said while moving closer to me and making an attempt to kiss me.
“You can leave now.” I said resisting the urge to slap him. “Shameless” I muttered
I didn’t wait to see if he listened. I walked out and rode the elevator back up to the penthouse, chest tight and pulse racing.
But not because of Ronan.
Because of what Damien’s note had said.
Because of what I was starting to feel.
Because the lines were blurring…..fast.
And I didn’t know how much longer I could pretend not to want him.
It was crazy that I felt this way for someone I barely knew. When after spending years with Ronan I didn’t feel anything close to this…. Not even a little bit.
- Writer
