THE RETURN OF THE FORGOTTEN SON

Chapter 6

The next morning began too quietly. The city outside was already awake, horns echoing through the glass skyline, pedestrians weaving through the pale mist but inside Adrian’s penthouse, silence ruled. He stood by the window, watching the slow chaos unfold below him. Every movement of the world felt deliberate, distant, unimportant. His mind was elsewhere, seven years away, replaying a single image: the way Elena looked at him last night, her eyes wide with disbelief, her body frozen between recognition and fear.

It wasn’t supposed to matter. She wasn’t supposed to matter anymore. He’d spent years burying the part of him that still remembered the warmth of her laughter, the softness of her voice when she whispered his name like it meant something. But seeing her again had undone everything: the pain, the control, the carefully constructed armor he’d built around himself.

“Sir,” Lucas’s voice crackled from the intercom. “Knight Corporation just confirmed the meeting request for today. Ten A.M. sharp.”

Adrian didn’t move. His reflection stared back at him, expression unreadable. “And Elena Moore?”

“She’ll be there. PR head she handles investor relations now.”

Adrian nodded once. That was exactly what he wanted.

When he turned from the window, his movements were precise, controlled, as if every second had already been planned. He chose a charcoal suit — sharp, severe, devoid of warmth and tied his cufflinks with slow deliberation. The same cufflinks that had once belonged to Adrian Knight. It was poetic, really. The son his father had buried would walk back into the empire wearing his own ghost.

By the time he arrived at Knight Corporation, the building gleamed beneath the morning light. The massive glass doors reflected his image back at him, but all he saw was the shadow of the boy who once ran through those halls, naive enough to believe that love could fix broken bloodlines. That boy was gone.

Inside, the boardroom was already alive with murmurs. Executives lined the long table, Caleb Knight sat at the head with his practiced charm, and Victor stood near the window older, quieter, and visibly exhausted. But it was Elena who stole the air from the room the moment she looked up.

She was standing by the presentation screen, flipping through files, her expression professional and distant. But her eyes flickered when they met him. A flicker so brief that anyone else would’ve missed it. But not him.

“Mr. Cole,” she greeted, her voice calm but tight. “Welcome back. We’ve prepared the full financial portfolio and PR proposal you requested.”

Adrian’s lips curved slightly. “Thank you, Miss Moore. I’m sure it’ll be… thorough.”

The words were formal, almost indifferent. But something in his tone, quiet, low, controlled —made her heart skip a beat. It was the voice of someone who knew her silence too well.

Throughout the meeting, he watched her without watching. Every time she spoke, every shift in her tone, every restrained breath he noticed. The others didn’t see it, but the tension between them was alive, electric, whispering beneath the surface.

When the meeting ended, Victor lingered for a moment, as though he wanted to speak. But before he could, Adrian turned to him with that polite detachment that made even the boldest men hesitate. “I’ll have my office send the revised investment terms,” he said smoothly. “Knight Corporation has potential, it just needs to remember where it came from.”

Victor frowned, something flickering behind his eyes. “And where do you think that is, Mr. Cole?”

Adrian smiled faintly. “In the ashes. That’s where true empires are rebuilt.”

The silence that followed was heavy. For a split second, Victor looked as if he’d heard those words before long ago, from someone who should’ve been dead. But before he could respond, Adrian was already turning away, his gaze shifting toward Elena.

“Miss Moore,” he said evenly, “stay behind. I’d like to discuss the public relations plan in private.”

Caleb smirked from across the room, mistaking it for arrogance. “She’s all yours, Mr. Cole. She’s our best.”

When the door closed and the others left, the air changed.

Elena stood still, her fingers tightening around the file in her hands. “What exactly do you want to discuss?” she asked softly.

Adrian walked toward her, slow, deliberate, each step echoing against the marble. “You’ve done well for yourself,” he said finally. “Seven years ago, you were just an assistant. Now you’re handling the face of a corporation built on lies.”

She flinched slightly at the edge in his tone. “What do you mean?”

He stopped only a few feet away. The distance between them was unbearable. “You tell me. How does it feel to represent a legacy built on betrayal?”

Her breath hitched. “You talk as if you know something.”

His eyes darkened. “Maybe I do.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence pulsed between them, heavy with everything unspoken. Then she whispered, almost to herself, “Why do you sound like him?”

Adrian froze. The mask almost cracked.

“Like who?” he asked quietly.

“Adrian,” she said, her voice trembling. “Adrian Knight.”

The name hung between them like a ghost coming home.

He wanted to deny it. He wanted to walk away, to end it before it began. But he couldn’t. Not when her voice broke on his name like that. Not when she looked at him like she was standing in front of a miracle she didn’t believe in.

“Elena,” he said finally, his voice low, dangerous, almost intimate. “Some ghosts don’t die. They just learn how to hide.”

She took a step back, eyes wide. “It can’t be you. You’re dead.”

“Am I?” He stepped closer until there was barely an inch between them. “Look at me, Elena. Really look.”

Her hands trembled as she reached out just barely as if afraid he’d vanish if she touched him. But when her fingers brushed his sleeve, her entire body stilled. The texture of the suit, the faint scent of his cologne it was all the same. Memories hit her like a wave, dragging her back to nights under streetlights, laughter echoing through rain, promises made and broken.

“It’s you,” she whispered.

Adrian didn’t confirm it. He didn’t need to. His silence was enough.

“You shouldn’t have come back,” she said finally, voice breaking. “They’ll destroy you again.”

A bitter smile touched his lips. “This time, Elena, I’m the one holding the match.”

Her heart sank. “What are you planning?”

“Justice,” he said simply. “For what they took from me. From us.”

She shook her head. “Revenge won’t bring back what you lost.”

“It doesn’t have to,” he replied. “It just has to make them feel it.”

The pain in his voice was sharper than anger. It was years of silence, loss, and guilt wrapped into one. And despite every reason she had to hate him, Elena couldn’t look away.

She took a slow breath. “Then let me help you.”

He looked at her, genuinely surprised. “You’d risk everything for a ghost?”

Her voice trembled but her eyes didn’t. “You’re not a ghost. You’re the truth this family buried. And if you’ve really come back to burn it all down, at least let someone hold the light with you.”

For the first time that morning, something inside Adrian shifted not enough to break the walls he’d built, but enough to let warmth leak through the cracks.

He turned away, walking toward the window, his reflection staring back at them both. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“Maybe not,” she said softly, “but I remember who you were. And that man still deserves to be saved.”

He exhaled slowly, eyes on the city below. “Then maybe you’ll hate the man I’ve become.”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she stepped closer until she stood beside him, her voice barely above a whisper. “Then show me.”

The world outside moved on cars, lights, people rushing through their lives but inside that boardroom, ti

me felt suspended. The game had begun, and neither of them realized that the next move would decide everything.