Lost and Found

The Ghosts of the Past

- Aurelio Brennen's Perspective -

That same day, at the Oakridge Mental Institution. It was a fortress of forgotten souls, a place where the outside world ceased to exist.

It was quiet, too quiet, except for the occasional distant murmur of patients lost in their own realities.

A man like him—powerful, ruthless, untouchable—should have no business here. And yet, he came. Again and again, despite everything.

Because within these walls was the woman he had once loved beyond reason.

He adjusted the cuffs of his expensive black suit, his polished shoes echoing through the empty hallway as he walked with purpose.

The world knew him as a ruthless, untouchable man—a kingpin who ruled with an iron fist.

But here, within these walls, he wasn't the infamous Aurelio Brennen. He was just a husband visiting his wife.

The guards at the front desk barely acknowledged him anymore. They knew who he was. They knew better than to ask questions.

One of the guards nodded at him as he approached Room 317, fumbling with his keys before unlocking the door. "She's been calm today, sir."

Aurelio gave no response, stepping inside as the door clicked shut behind him.

The room was stark, sterile. A single window let in a sliver of light through the thick security bars, casting long shadows across the white walls. And there, sitting on the small hospital bed, was her.

Vivienne Brennen.

His wife. His queen. The mother of his son.

Her once-golden hair had dulled over the years, the strands now tangled and unkempt.

The sharp blue eyes that had

once captivated him now flickered with something unhinged—restless, unpredictable.

Yet, even now, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.

The heavy iron doors groaned as they slid open, allowing Aurelio Brennen to step into the sterile, dimly lit hallway.

The scent of antiseptic lingered in the air, masking something deeper—something raw and metallic, like the remnants of shattered minds and broken promises.

She hadn't moved at his entrance, her long, raven-black hair cascading over her shoulders, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

She stared out into the courtyard, where pale sunlight barely touched the dying grass.

"Vivienne," Aurelio murmured, his voice softer than it ever was anywhere else.

She stiffened at the sound of his voice, as if waking from a trance. Slowly, she turned her head, her piercing blue eyes locking onto his.

"Aurelio," she breathed, her lips curling slightly. "You came."

Her voice sent a familiar ache through his chest.

He stepped forward, reaching out as if to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. But he hesitated—touching her felt like tempting fate.

"Of course I did," he said instead. "I always do."

Vivienne tilted her head, watching him with sharp amusement. "And what brings the great Aurelio to my little prison today?"

Aurelio pulled the wooden chair closer, sitting down with measured precision. "Mackenzie visited you."

At the mention of their son, her expression changed.

A flicker of something—affection, anger, regret?—crossed her features. "Ah," she mused. "My little prince. He told me about her."

Aurelio's jaw tightened. "Evelyn."

Vivienne let out a soft laugh, though there was no humor in it. "You don't like it either, do you?"

He studied her carefully. "That's not why I'm here."

She leaned forward slightly, chin resting on her hand. "Then why are you here, my love?"

For a long moment, Aurelio didn't answer.

He simply looked at her, taking in the familiar curve of her face, the sharpness of her cheekbones—sharper now, after years in this place.

The woman he had married had been vibrant, untouchable, a force of nature. The woman before him was different. Not broken. But changed.

Finally, he spoke. "I just needed a moment to remember why I put you here."

Vivienne let out a breathy chuckle. "You want to remember the night it all ended?"

Aurelio inhaled deeply, nodding once.

Vivienne leaned back, her fingers absently tracing the armrest. "You always were so good at pretending things weren't broken," she murmured.

He said nothing.

Her lips curled. "You really want to remember?" she repeated. "Fine. Let me remind you."

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Seven Years Ago

The Brennen estate had been alive with music and laughter that night.

The grand ballroom was filled with men in sharp suits and women draped in luxury, celebrating another victory for the family empire.

But behind closed doors, Vivienne had been unraveling.

Aurelio had found her in their private study, standing over the body of one of his most trusted men. The rich mahogany floor was smeared with blood, the metallic scent thick in the air.

Vivienne stood perfectly still, the blade in her hand still dripping red.

"Vivienne," Aurelio had murmured carefully, stepping forward. "What have you done?"

She had turned to him then, her expression eerily serene. "He was going to betray you," she had said simply, as if it were fact. "I saw it in his eyes."

Aurelio had frozen.

The man at her feet had been nothing but loyal. There had been no whispers of disloyalty, no reason to suspect him.

"Vivienne," Aurelio had tried again, his voice controlled. "He wasn't a threat."

Her face had twisted in something close to disbelief. "Of course he was," she had whispered. "They're all threats, Aurelio. You can't trust any of them. I did this for you. For us."

That was the moment he had realized the truth.

Vivienne wasn't acting out of vengeance or power. She had become something else—something unpredictable.

"Put the knife down," he had said softly, his voice lined with something dangerously close to pleading.

But she had only laughed, gripping it tighter. "You don't see it, do you? They're waiting for you to slip. I won't let them take you from me." She said with a crazed look.

Aurelio had known, then, that if he didn't stop her, this wouldn't be the last time.

And so, he had done the only thing he could.

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Present Day

Aurelio exhaled, dragging a hand down his face as he stared at the woman before him now. The woman who had done everything for him.

"You should have left me to rot," Vivienne whispered, breaking the silence.

Aurelio shook his head. "You know I could never do that."

She studied him with quiet amusement before sighing. "And what will you do about our son?"

Aurelio's expression hardened. "Mackenzie will make his own choices. Just as I did."

Vivienne smirked. "You're a fool if you think love won't destroy him the way it destroyed me."

His jaw tightened. "He is not you."

She leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper. "No, but he is yours."

Aurelio had built his empire on control, on knowing every move before it happened.

But Mackenzie—Mackenzie was the unknown. And Evelyn Turner was the storm waiting on the horizon.

Standing, he adjusted his jacket and moved toward the door. "I'll see you soon," he murmured.

Vivienne watched him with a knowing smile. "Yes," she whispered. "I'm sure you will."

As he stepped into the hallway, the door locking behind him, Aurelio felt something foreign settle into his bones.

Doubt.

And for the first time, he wasn't sure if he could protect his son from what was coming.