Chapter 2: BACK HOME🛬
899 Words
CHAPTER TWO
Jordan's POV
The aircraft came to a smooth stop.
A soft chime echoed through the cabin as the seatbelt sign switched off, and almost immediately, passengers rose to their feet. Overhead compartments opened one after another, conversations filled the aisle, and the excitement of returning home spread through the plane.
I remained seated.
Home.
The word felt strangely unfamiliar.
It had been four years since I last set foot in this country.
Four years since I left everything behind.
Or rather...
Since everything had been taken from me.
The United States hadn't been freedom.
It had been exile.
A place I was sent to under the guise of opportunity.
A place meant to keep me away from a family that had already decided where I belonged.
Far from them.
Far from the company.
Far from the truth.
I finally stood, picked up my carry-on, and made my way off the plane.
The familiar warmth of the air greeted me the moment I stepped outside the airport.
Nothing had changed.
The traffic.
The noise.
The crowded streets.
It all looked exactly as I remembered.
Only I had changed.
Four years had a way of doing that.
I walked toward the arrival area, rolling my suitcase behind me. Families embraced each other with tears and laughter. Friends waved excitedly from behind the barriers.
Everyone seemed happy to be reunited.
I couldn't relate.
Waiting near the entrance was a long black luxury sedan.
Beside it stood the family driver.
No father.
No mother.
Just the driver.
For some reason, I wasn't disappointed.
I hadn't expected anything else.
The driver hurried toward me and bowed respectfully.
"Welcome home, Young Master."
I looked at him for a brief moment before shifting my gaze to the mansion emblem engraved on the side of the car.
Home.
That word again.
It sounded almost ironic.
The driver reached for my suitcase.
"I'll take that, sir."
I handed it over without a word.
As he placed it in the trunk, I glanced toward the city skyline.
Four years.
Long enough for buildings to change.
Long enough for people to move on.
Long enough for families to pretend nothing had happened.
But not long enough for me to forget.
The memory returned as clearly as if it had happened yesterday.
It had started with a single accusation.
One sentence.
One lie.
My stepbrother stood before the board that afternoon with complete confidence.
He claimed I had stolen confidential company documents and leaked them to one of our biggest competitors.
I remembered every face in that room.
The directors.
The shareholders.
My father.
People who had watched me grow up.
People who claimed to know the kind of man I was.
When the accusation ended...
The room became silent.
Not because they were shocked.
Because they were deciding whether I was worth believing.
I waited.
Surely someone would ask for evidence.
Someone would question the accusation.
Someone would ask me what really happened.
No one did.
The only person who stood up was my mother.
"I know my son," she said, her voice trembling but unwavering. "Jordan would never betray this family."
She defended me with everything she had.
She pleaded with them to investigate.
To look deeper.
To listen before condemning me.
But one voice couldn't overpower a room full of doubt.
The decision had already been made.
"We'll send him abroad."
It sounded reasonable.
Responsible, even.
Business Administration in the United States.
An opportunity many people would have envied.
But I knew what it really was.
Exile.
A neat solution to an inconvenient problem.
Within a week, I was gone.
No investigation.
No chance to defend myself.
No opportunity to clear my name.
Just distance.
After that day...
Something changed in my mother.
She still called every week.
Still reminded me to eat.
Still told me she believed in me.
But whenever Father came up during our conversations...
There was always a pause.
A silence heavy enough to say everything words couldn't.
She had begged him to trust me.
He hadn't.
Some wounds never truly healed.
The sound of the trunk closing pulled me back to the present.
"Everything is ready, Young Master," the driver said politely as he opened the rear door.
I stood there for a moment, looking at the mansion crest on the car door.
Then I got in.
The city drifted past the window as we drove.
Neither of us spoke.
After several minutes, the driver finally broke the silence.
"Your family has been preparing for your return."
A faint smile almost escaped me.
Almost.
"I didn't come back for them."
The driver glanced at me through the rearview mirror.
"Sir?"
I kept my eyes on the passing buildings.
"I came back because I'm done running from what they took from me."
The driver wisely said nothing else.
Silence settled inside the car once again.
It didn't bother me.
Silence had become familiar over the years.
More familiar than trust.
I once believed trust was something people protected.
Something that, once earned, couldn't easily be broken.
I was wrong.
Trust was only valuable until it became inconvenient.
And now...
Another family arrangement awaited me.
A marriage.
Another decision made without asking what I wanted.
If this marriage was nothing more than another business deal disguised as duty...
Then I'd treat it like every other deal.
With caution.
With distance.
And without trust.
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