Until You Choose Me

Chapter Eight: What She Refuses to Lose

Clara drove for nearly an hour before the city gave way to open roads and half-forgotten neighborhoods. The navigation on her dashboard led her toward the outskirts of a riverside town that once thrived on factories and rail lines, before time and money moved elsewhere.

She hadn’t planned to come here.

But after the board meeting, after hearing the word shutdown spoken so calmly, she couldn’t sit in her apartment pretending everything was under control.

This place had always been personal.

The car slowed in front of a fenced property. A rusted sign hung crookedly from two posts:

Riverside Heritage Hall – Restoration in Progress

Progress had stopped three years ago.

Clara parked and stepped out. The wind carried the smell of damp wood and weeds. The building stood like a tired old man... Brick walls cracked, windows boarded, scaffolding half-removed as if the workers had simply walked away mid-task. Her father actually found this place. She can still clearly remember her father who drove her at this exact location one weekend, while looking obviously excited.

“This used to be the heart of the town,” he’d said. “Dances. Town meetings. Graduation ceremonies. Can you imagine bringing it back?”

Clara unlocked the gate and walked inside the grounds. Grass grew through broken concrete. A tarp flapped against the side of the building.

She touched the brick wall.

“I won’t let you disappear,” she murmured.

Inside, the air was cool and dusty. Sunlight slipped through cracks in the boarded windows. The main hall was wide, its ceiling tall, the bones of beauty still visible.

Her footsteps echoed.

She pulled out her phone and dialed.

“Dad?”

“Clara?” Her father’s voice was warm. “How are you doing, darling?”

“I’m at Riverside,” she said.

There was a pause. “You went back?”

“I had to.”

He sighed. “It’s been on your mind again.”

“They want to cut programs,” she said. “They’re talking about closing sites like this.”

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“They don’t understand what these places mean.”

“They understand risk,” he replied. “Not memory.”

She walked toward the center of the hall.

“You started this,” she said. “You believed in it. You taught me to.”

“And you carried it further than I ever could,” he said.

“I’m scared,” she admitted.

“That means you care,” he said.

She laughed softly. “It means I don’t know how to save everything.”

“No one does,” he replied. “But you can choose what you refuse to lose.”

Clara looked around, admiring everything about the place.

“I refuse to lose this.”

“You always did,” he said.

She imagined him standing beside her, pointing at the walls, describing what could be.

“Do you regret starting it?” she asked.

“Never,” he said. “Even unfinished, it mattered. It still does.”

Clara closed her eyes.

“I don’t want to become someone who chooses safety over purpose,” she said.

“Then don’t,” he replied simply.

After the call ended, Clara sat on a stack of unused lumber.

Her phone buzzed, and her secretary and good friend, Lena, sent her a message.

The Board is already discussing contingency letters.

Clara’s jaw tightened after she read the message.

She stood and took photos of the hall. The lighting, the damages and most importantly, its potential.... Afterwards, she sent all the photos to Lena.

This is what we’re protecting.

Lena replied almost immediately.

I know. And I’m with you.

Clara walked outside and sat on the front steps.

She opened her email.

One unread draft stared back at her.

Ethan Cole – Subject: Follow-up on Riverfront Project.

She hadn’t responded to the email, but her with her situation now, she is tempted to accept the offer. But after a few minutes, she closed the email. She is not yet ready...

Her father had taught her that preservation wasn’t about buildings. It was about people believing they mattered.

She wouldn’t let this place become another abandoned promise.

Not while she still had a voice, and time. She will not back down without a fight...

====================================================

Meanwhile...

Ethan hadn’t been back at his parents’ house in months.

The Cole estate sat on a quiet stretch of land just outside the city, hidden behind tall iron gates and rows of old trees. It was elegant in a way that never tried too hard—white stone walls, wide windows, a garden that always looked perfect no matter the season.

This place had raised him.

It had also shaped him into someone who never quite belonged anywhere else.

As he stepped inside, the familiar scent of polished wood and expensive candles greeted him.

“Ethan,” his mother called from the dining room. “You’re early.”

“Traffic was kind,” he replied.

Victoria Cole emerged, still graceful in her tailored dress, hair swept back. She kissed his cheek.

“You look tired."

“Work.”

“Work is always your excuse.”

His father, Richard Cole, stood near the window, phone in hand. He glanced up.

“You made it.”

“You invited me,” Ethan said.

“Yes,” Richard replied. “For dinner. And conversation.”

Ethan recognized that tone.

They sat at the long dining table, plates already arranged. The house staff moved quietly in and out, serving wine and food.

For the first ten minutes, they spoke about safe topics about the economy, stock markets, company mergers and many other things...

Then, Richard Cole set his fork down.

“We should discuss your future,” he said.

Ethan exhaled. “I have a future.”

“You have an empire,” Victoria corrected. “And no partner.”

“I don’t need one to run a company."

“You need one to stabilize it,” Richard said. “And yourself.”

Ethan’s shoulders tensed. “Here it comes.”

Victoria reached for her glass. “We’ve been approached by the Harrington family.”

Ethan froze. “The pharmaceutical Harringtons?”

“Yes,” Richard said. “Their daughter, Eleanor, just returned from Europe. She’s intelligent. Well-educated. The families align well.”

Ethan laughed once, humorless. “You’re matchmaking.”

“We’re being practical,” Victoria said.

“I’m not a product,” he snapped.

“No,” Richard said calmly. “You are a legacy.”

“That’s worse.”

Victoria sighed. “You live alone. You avoid attachments. This isn’t healthy.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re lonely,” she said.

He looked away.

“We’ve spent decades building something that must endure,” Richard continued. “A strategic marriage strengthens alliances. It protects what you’ve inherited.”

Ethan stood. “I won’t marry for a spreadsheet."

“It wouldn’t be loveless,” Victoria said. “Affection grows.”

“I don’t want affection that grows from obligation.”

Richard’s voice hardened. “This is how our world works.”

“Then maybe I don’t belong in it.”

Victoria studied him. “Is there someone else?”

Ethan didn’t answer.

But Clara’s face appeared in his mind without effort.

Her steady eyes. Her refusal to bend. The way she stood between him and her world without apology.

“No,” he said.

Richard rose. “You think you can build everything on your own. You can’t.”

“I don’t want a partner chosen like an acquisition,” Ethan replied. “I want someone real.”

Victoria softened. “Real doesn’t mean suitable."

Ethan met her gaze. “Maybe that’s the problem.”

Richard shook his head. “You’re chasing an idea.”

“Maybe I’m finally listening to myself.”

They stared at him.

“I won’t do this,” Ethan said quietly. “Not this way.”

Victoria’s voice wavered. “You’re rejecting your responsibility.”

“No,” he replied. “I’m redefining it.”

He picked up his jacket.

“This conversation isn’t over,” Richard warned.

“It is for tonight.”

As he drove away, the city lights blurred. As he drives his way home, Clara’s voice echoed in his mind. And for the first time, he knew exactly what he wanted.

And exactly how much it would cost.