Chapter 8 The Ghost From His Past
991 Words
Three months of marriage had passed like a dream.
For Isabella, life had never felt so peaceful.
She had slowly grown comfortable in Lorenzo’s penthouse, filled the quiet rooms with warmth, and turned the large space into something that finally felt like a home.
For Lorenzo, things were different.
He had never been a man who believed in domestic happiness.
Yet somehow, waking up beside Isabella every morning had become the best part of his day.
But peace rarely lasts forever.
Sometimes the past has a way of returning when you least expect it.
And when it does…
It changes everything.
The day began like any other.
Lorenzo sat in his office at De Luca Enterprises, reviewing several important contracts.
His assistant stood near the door with a tablet.
“Mr. De Luca, you have a meeting with the board in twenty minutes.”
“Move it to tomorrow,” Lorenzo replied without looking up.
“The board members have already arrived.”
“Tomorrow.”
The assistant hesitated but nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
Everyone in the building knew better than to argue with him.
Lorenzo finally set the documents aside and leaned back in his chair.
His mind wandered briefly to Isabella.
She had sent him a message earlier that morning.
Don’t forget dinner tonight.
He smiled faintly.
She had started a habit of cooking dinner twice a week despite the fact that the penthouse already had professional chefs.
But Isabella insisted.
“Food tastes better when it’s made with love,” she always said.
Lorenzo didn’t argue.
Because the truth was…
He liked it.
Just as he reached for his phone to reply to her message, another notification appeared.
Unknown number.
He normally ignored unknown calls.
But something made him open the message.
The text was short.
“Hello, Lorenzo.
It’s been a long time.”
His expression immediately hardened.
There was something about those words.
Something familiar.
Something unsettling.
Another message appeared seconds later.
“Did you really think you would never see me again?”
Lorenzo’s heart suddenly beat slower.
Because there was only one person who would send a message like that.
Only one person who had disappeared from his life years ago without explanation.
His past.
The name he had buried long ago slowly surfaced in his mind.
Victoria.
His phone rang.
The same unknown number.
Lorenzo stared at the screen for several seconds before answering.
“Who is this?” he asked coldly.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then a soft female voice spoke.
“Hello, Lorenzo.”
The world seemed to stop for a second.
That voice.
He knew it.
Even after six years.
Even after everything.
His jaw tightened.
“Victoria.”
On the other end of the line, she laughed softly.
“I’m impressed. You still remember me.”
“How did you get this number?”
“Does that really matter?”
“Yes.”
“Relax,” she said smoothly. “I’m not calling to cause trouble.”
Lorenzo stood up slowly from his chair.
“What do you want?”
“I’m in New York.”
The words hung heavily in the air.
“And?” he asked coldly.
“I thought we should meet.”
“No.”
Her voice remained calm.
“Don’t you want to see me?”
“Not particularly.”
Victoria laughed again.
“You sound angry.”
“I’m busy.”
“Oh, I know,” she replied. “You’ve always been busy.”
Then her tone changed slightly.
“But six years is a long time, Lorenzo.”
His grip on the phone tightened.
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Victoria paused.
Then she spoke softly.
“Even after everything we went through?”
For a brief moment, memories flashed in Lorenzo’s mind.
Old conversations.
Old emotions.
Old wounds.
He pushed them away immediately.
“That was a long time ago.”
“But it still mattered.”
“Not anymore.”
Victoria sighed dramatically.
“That’s disappointing.”
“Goodbye, Victoria.”
Before he could hang up, she said one final thing.
“Congratulations on the marriage.”
Lorenzo froze.
“How do you know about that?”
“Oh, Lorenzo,” she said softly.
“You really think I wouldn’t find out?”
The call ended.
Lorenzo slowly lowered the phone.
His expression had turned completely cold.
That evening, Isabella waited patiently in the penthouse kitchen.
She had prepared Lorenzo’s favorite pasta.
The table was set.
Candles were lit.
But the chair across from her remained empty.
She glanced at the clock again.
9:10 PM.
He was late.
She sent him a message.
Are you still at the office?
No reply.
Twenty minutes passed.
Then the front door finally opened.
Lorenzo stepped inside.
Isabella immediately stood up.
“You’re late,” she said gently.
“Yes.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yes.”
But something in his voice felt different.
Colder.
Distant.
She walked closer to him.
“You look tired.”
“Work.”
“Come eat. I made dinner.”
Lorenzo glanced at the table.
“I’m not hungry.”
Her smile faded slightly.
“You always say that.”
“I had a long day.”
“I know,” she said softly. “But you should still eat.”
He sighed quietly.
“Isabella.”
“Yes?”
“I’m really not hungry.”
She looked at him carefully.
For the first time in months…
Something felt wrong.
Something small.
But noticeable.
Still, she forced a smile.
“Okay.”
Lorenzo loosened his tie and walked toward the living room.
Neither of them noticed the silence that slowly settled between them.
But that silence would soon grow louder.
Because somewhere in New York…
A woman named Victoria Hayes had returned.
And she had no intention of staying in the background.
- Writer
