We Can't Go Back

Audrey mounted the stairs to the second floor of Brio Café, her boots making a quiet pattern against the polished dark floorboards. Outside, the midday breeze rustled through the plane trees along the avenue, but within the private corridor, everything was hushed. Her stomach tightened into nervous knots as she neared the corner room. When she reached the doorway, she smoothed the front of her crisp white blouse and took a slow breath before resting her palm against the heavy wooden door.

She gently pushed the door open.

"Uncle Vance?"

The greeting left her lips as she stepped into the private dining room.

Audrey paused just inside the threshold. The air was rich with the dark fragrance of ground espresso beans, yet the room was silent. There were no corporate aides, legal assistants, or bodyguards hovering by the window. Vance Hawthorne sat alone at the center table under the warm, amber glow of a low-hanging glass lamp.

He looked remarkably different from the formidable corporate figure who had commanded the ballroom only the night before. Instead of a bespoke three-piece charcoal suit and a silk tie pinned with gold, he wore a relaxed dark sweater with an open knit collar. The dark wool softened the hard lines of his jaw and broad shoulders, yet it did nothing to lessen the sheer, crushing presence he carried. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, showing lean, corded muscle and a heavy silver watch against his tanned skin.

Vance lifted his head, his dark eyes fixing upon her face. "Sit down."

Audrey moved forward with quiet steps, keeping her posture straight as she slid into the leather chair across from him. She settled her handbag against the edge of the polished mahogany table and clasped her fingers together.

"Would you like an Americano?" Vance asked.

Audrey gave a subtle shake of her head. "A latte is fine, thank you."

Vance raised a finger to signal the attendant stationed outside the room, then turned his attention back to her. He rested his forearms against the table, studying the guarded expression she wore.

"You seem a lot more reserved than you used to be," Vance observed in a low, even tone. "Five years has changed quite a few things, hasn't it?"

A faint warmth crept up the back of Audrey's neck. A vivid memory from years ago flashed through her mind—a rash, impulsive confession she had blurted out in the Hawthorne family rose garden when she was only sixteen, long before the family elders decided she belonged at Adrian's side. She lowered her chin, staring down at the dark wood grain.

"People grow up, Uncle Vance. I have always been quiet."

Vance watched her downcast eyes, a quiet curve touching the corner of his lips. "Relax. I am not going to eat you."

Audrey raised her head, meeting his gaze. His eyes were deep and unreadable, carrying an intensity that felt heavy enough to pull her under. Her pulse beat fast in her throat.

"Adrian mentioned that you two were getting your marriage license soon," Vance said, leaning forward slightly as his gaze dissected her face. "Has he returned from his trip to take care of it?"

Audrey looked away toward the lace curtain, keeping her tone flat and distant. "I suppose so."

Vance paused, his hand coming to rest on the edge of his coffee saucer. He noted the rigid set of her shoulders, the cold distance in her eyes, and the lack of any bride's anticipation.

"Look at me, Audrey," Vance said, his voice dropping into a deep baritone that carried a strange, heavy sincerity. "If Adrian ever upsets you or treats you badly, you can always come to me."

A sudden sting touched behind Audrey's eyes. It had been years since anyone in Adrian's family had offered her genuine protection. For four years, she had been expected to accommodate Adrian's moods, smooth over his reckless mistakes, and act as a compliant fixture in his life. Hearing those words from the most feared man in the family caused a tight ache in her chest.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and reached for the strap of her bag. "Thank you, Uncle Vance. That is very kind."

She glanced at the time on her phone screen, eager to put distance between herself and the unnerving weight of his presence. "It is almost two o'clock. I have client files to review before the afternoon meetings, so I should head back to the firm."

Audrey rose from the chair, ready to make a swift exit.

Vance moved before she could take a step back. His warm, calloused fingers reached across the table and caught her wrist, holding her firmly in place.

"Hold on," Vance said, his grip steady and unyielding. "Let us exchange WhatsApp contacts first. If you ever need to talk or need a place to turn, you can reach out directly."

Audrey glanced down at her wrist. The contact was brief, but heat spread across her skin where his fingers pressed against her pulse. A sudden spark of electricity seemed to shoot straight up her arm, leaving her thoughts dizzy and scattered.

Vance released her wrist as smoothly as he had caught it. He pulled a black smartphone from his pocket, tapping the screen to display a QR code.

"Are you going to scan it, or should I take your phone and do it myself?" he asked, a faint glimmer of amusement in his dark eyes.

Audrey pulled herself together, unlocking her phone with fingers that felt unusually clumsy. "Sorry. I'll scan it right now."

The phone chimed as the contact registered. Vance pocketed his device and sat back against the leather seat.

"I am only seven years older than you," Vance remarked, his deep voice carrying a dry humor. "You do not need to treat me like some ancient patriarch."

Audrey felt the tips of her ears turn red. Dealing with him was like stepping onto thin ice; every time she found herself in front of him, her instincts went on high alert, like a bird cornered by a hawk.

"I have added you, Uncle Vance," Audrey said softly, offering a brief nod. "I will see you next time."

She turned and walked out of the private room, her steps quickening until she reached the ground floor and stepped out into the crisp air.

Reaching her car, Audrey slid into the driver's seat and pulled the door shut. She rested her forehead against the steering wheel, letting out a long breath. After her pulse steadied, she raised her head and unlocked her phone to look at Vance's contact card.

His profile photo was a high-resolution image of a deep purple starry sky.

Audrey stared at the picture in amusement. He insisted he was not an old man, yet her own father would never pick such a serious, vintage picture for a profile.

As she watched the screen, a small gray notification appeared below his name: typing...

Audrey tossed the phone onto the passenger seat with a sharp puff of air. They had only just added each other, and she was not prepared to engage in casual small talk with Adrian's uncle. She put the key in the ignition and adjusted the rearview mirror, preparing to pull into traffic.

A sharp ping echoed through the car speakers.

Audrey paused, reaching across the console to pick up the device. A green banner hovered at the top of the display, indicating a digital money transfer.

She tapped into the chat window. Vance had transferred two thousand dollars to her account.

Directly beneath the transfer was a small red heart emoji and a short memo: Allowance for upkeep of your car.

Audrey stared at the red heart emoji, her eyes wide with bewilderment. Vance Hawthorne was known throughout the city as a cold, ruthless businessman who operated with razor-sharp efficiency. The idea of him attaching a heart emoji to an expense transfer seemed surreal. Two thousand dollars was far more than the light scratch on her door warranted.

She typed out a quick reply:

[No need, Uncle Vance. You really don't have to give me that much for upkeep.]

Vance's reply came through within seconds:

[Take it.]

The two words were short, decisive, and left no room for debate. Audrey stared at the message, shaking her head as she locked the screen. If a billionaire wanted to spend his money on a minor door scratch, she was not going to waste her energy fighting him over it.

***

By evening, a steady downpour swept across the grounds of Hawthorne Manor. Inside the grand dining room, warm light from a massive brass chandelier spilled over an expansive mahogany table loaded with silver dishes, roasted meats, and fine wine.

It was Vance's first formal family dinner since returning from overseas, and Grandpa Alistair had made sure every branch of the household was present.

Edward Hawthorne raised his crystal wine glass from his seat opposite his brother. "Welcome back, Vance. It has been quiet around here without you."

Vance lifted his own glass, touching the rim lightly against Edward's. "Thank you, Edward."

Despite the fierce rumors whispered among competitors about internal family rivalries, the brothers maintained an easy, respectful rapport.

Further down the table, however, the atmosphere was far less dignified. Adrian sat turned toward Giselle, leaning his shoulder close to hers as they exchanged quiet whispers. Giselle wore an ivory dress, her gaze soft and helpless as she pointed at a platter of steamed asparagus. Adrian picked up the silver tongs, serving a portion onto her fine china plate with delicate care before refilling her water glass.

None of the other family members batted an eye, having long grown accustomed to Adrian treating Giselle like precious porcelain.

To Vance, however, the display of lingering intimacy was a sour sight. He sliced through his steak, the sharp steel of his knife parting the meat cleanly before he laid the silverware against the rim of his plate.

"Adrian," Vance said, his deep baritone cutting clean across the murmur of conversation. "Did you and Audrey get your marriage license yet?"

The question landed like a stone in still water. Adrian froze, his hand pausing over his napkin. He cleared his throat and looked up, shifting uncomfortably beneath the gaze of the table.

"We intended to go down to the registry this morning," Adrian stammered, offering a strained smile. "Drey had an unexpected business trip come up at the law firm, though. Once she gets back into town, we will take care of it right away."

Grandpa Alistair set his fork down with a dull thud, his aged brow furrowing into deep creases. "You need to get it done as soon as possible. The wedding invitations are already sent out, and you still haven't signed the registry. Do not make a mockery of this marriage."

Giselle's fingers tightened around the stem of her glass until her knuckles turned white. Adrian noticed the subtle distress in her posture, feeling a quick pang of guilt in his chest. Yet he knew his grandfather's temper was not something he could test.

"Understood, Grandpa," Adrian said, nodding with earnest compliance. "We will have it done by Friday at the latest. Drey should be back before then."

Vance leaned back in his high-backed chair, lifting a linen napkin to dab the corner of his mouth. A dark, mocking gleam settled into his sharp eyes as he pinned his nephew to the spot.

"Audrey is on a business trip?" Vance asked smoothly, tilting his head with quiet amusement. "That's odd. I saw her at a café earlier today."

The revelation fell like a hard slap across Adrian's face. The blood drained from his cheeks before rushing back in a wave of burning embarrassment. He sat frozen, unable to form an answer while every eye around the table swung toward him.

Grandpa Alistair erupted in fury. He raised his heavy mahogany cane and slammed it down against the hardwood floor with a deafening crack that shook the sideboard.

"Adrian, explain yourself!" Alistair bellowed, his voice trembling with anger. "Are you lying to my face, or do you not even know where your own bride is?"

Adrian bowed his head, his fingernails digging deep into his palms beneath the edge of the table. "Grandpa, there must be a misunderstanding. I will call Drey after dinner and clear it up."

"You had better clear it up tonight," Alistair snapped, his cane trembling as he pointed it at Adrian. "Audrey is the granddaughter-in-law I chose for this family. If you dare mistreat or neglect that girl, I will strip you of your standing in the company!"

***

Adrian barely tasted the rest of the meal. Even when Giselle leaned close to whisper comforting words, he could not bring himself to focus.

An unfamiliar restlessness chewed at his gut. In their four years together, Audrey had always been the predictable one. She was the one who tracked his schedule, who brewed tea when he came home exhausted, and who accommodated him whenever Giselle needed his attention. She was under his control. Now, the quiet certainty he took for granted was slipping out of his hands like dry sand.

When the dinner finally ended, Giselle lingered beside him in the marble entryway.

"Adrian, will you drive me home tonight?" Giselle asked in a tender whisper.

Adrian opened his mouth to reply, but Vance stepped into the foyer, his dark coat draped over one arm. "Where are you living now, Giselle? I can have my driver drop you off."

Giselle bit her lip, shrinking back slightly. Vance Hawthorne had never shown her an ounce of warmth, and the thought of sharing a car with him sent a chill down her spine.

"Thank you, Uncle Vance, but that is fine," Giselle answered quickly. "I will let Zane drive me home."

Vance gave a subtle, indifferent nod. "Very well."

Adrian did not care who drove Giselle home. He snatched his keys from the tray, strode out into the rain, and sped through the dark streets toward Summit Garden.

He pulled his car into the paved driveway with a screech of wet tires. Pushing through the front door of the villa, he tossed his damp coat onto the entryway bench and looked around.

"Audrey!" he shouted, his voice echoing in the quiet halls.

Martha hurried out of the kitchen, looking startled by his harsh entrance. "Sir? Is something the matter?"

Adrian stopped at the foot of the stairs, his chest rising and falling. "Where is Audrey?"

Martha shook her head in confusion. "Isn't she on a business trip, sir?"

Adrian frowned, his temper flaring. "Did she tell you she was going on a business trip?"

"No, sir," Martha replied cautiously. "She left with her suitcases this morning. I assumed it was for work, but she did say she was moving out that day..."

Adrian's heart dropped like lead. He ignored the housekeeper, bounding up the carpeted stairs three at a time.

He shoved open the door to the guest room where Audrey had slept for the past year.

The room was bare.

The bed was stripped down to the mattress pad, the pillows stacked neatly in a corner. The vanity desk was clean of every skincare bottle, comb, and hair clip. Her laptop, her law journals, and her notebooks were gone. The room smelled of fresh air and neutral cleaning soap, as though nobody had ever stayed there.

Adrian turned on his heel and rushed down the corridor into the master suite's walk-in closet.

He threw open the frosted glass doors.

Half of the massive wardrobe was cleared out. Audrey's tailored suits, casual shirts, summer dresses, and shoes were gone.

A cold sweat broke out along his spine. He stepped toward his own section of the closet, noticing that several of his designer suits were missing from their hangers.

His hand moved on autopilot, yanking open the wooden tie organizer.

Every single silk tie Audrey had carefully selected for his board meetings, every matching pocket square, and every pair of cufflinks she had given him over the years had been cleared out.

Panic clawed at Adrian's throat. He turned toward the master bedroom, throwing open the double doors.

He looked up at the main wall above the king-sized bed.

The giant, custom-framed wedding portrait they had taken three months ago was gone. Only two bare picture hooks hung on the blank white wall.

Adrian felt the room spin. His hands shook as he pulled his phone from his pocket, stepping out onto the cold, rain-slicked terrace to dial her number.

***

The line rang once. Twice.

Every ring felt like an agonizing weight pressing against Adrian's chest. He paced back and forth in the cold drizzle, his grip on the phone white-knuckled.

Finally, the call connected.

"Audrey, why is your closet empty?" Adrian demanded, his voice cracking with panicked anger. "Where did all your clothes go? Did you take the clothes you bought for me too? And if you weren't even on a business trip, why didn't you come with me to get our marriage license?"

A quiet snort came through the speaker, followed by a dry, mocking chuckle that sounded like she had just heard a ridiculous joke.

"And you?" Audrey challenged him coolly. "Did you even go to City Hall yourself?"

Adrian's breath caught in his throat. The guilt flared hot, but he buried it beneath a roar of defensive fury.

"Don't try to change the subject!" Adrian yelled into the phone, running a hand through his wet hair. "Audrey, can you stop throwing a fit? I told you I would get the license with you! Why are you still acting like this?"

Audrey's tone remained smooth, undisturbed by his shouting. "I already told you, we're done."

Adrian scoffed, refusing to entertain the thought. In his eyes, Audrey had loved him for four years; she would never walk away over a missed morning appointment. She was simply playing games to get his attention.

"Stop pretending," Adrian pressed, trying to regain his authority. "If we're really over, why did you take our wedding portrait? Where did you hide it?"

Across town, Audrey stood near the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of a sleek real estate office. Behind her, bright halogen lights reflected off polished tile floors and rows of desks where agents reviewed lease agreements. She looked at her reflection in the glass, adjusting her handbag over her arm.

"I didn't take it," Audrey answered in a flat, casual tone.

Adrian froze, his gut twisting with fresh dread. "Then where is the photo?"

Audrey gave a faint, detached reply. "Check your drawer."

Adrian lowered the phone, spun back into the master bedroom, and strode toward the nightstand beside his bed.

He grabbed the handle and yanked the heavy drawer open.

The drawer was filled to the top with shredded fragments of paper.

The thick matte canvas of their five-foot portrait had been cut into narrow, confetti-like strips. The smiling faces of their formal portrait, the white silk of her gown, and the dark fabric of his tuxedo were shredded beyond recognition, reduced to useless scraps of colored paper.

A wave of shock and blinding fury swept through Adrian's chest. His hands shook as he stared at the ruined portrait, his throat tightening until he could barely draw breath.

"Audrey, you—" Adrian choked, his voice trembling so hard he could scarcely speak.

Audrey heard his strangled voice over the line and offered no sympathy.

"Why are you so mad?" Audrey shot back, her tone sharp and unyielding. "You should've known this was coming the moment you bailed on getting the license."

She looked away from the dark street outside, feeling nothing but a cool, steady calm settling over her spirit.

Standing in the lobby of a real estate office, completely devoid of warmth, she delivered her final blow. "Adrian, we can't go back anymore."