For hours, Ricky sits in his car, unmoving. The engine is off, the streets around him quiet except for the occasional passing vehicle, but he barely notices.
His grip on the steering wheel is tight, knuckles white, his jaw locked as he stares at nothing in particular.
The weight in his chest is suffocating, a dull but relentless ache that refuses to ease, no matter how much he tries to push it away.
Adele's words still echo in his mind, each syllable cutting deeper than he thought possible.
"Please go live your life… I'll find my own way."
She walked away.
Just like that.
No hesitation, no second glance, as if what they shared meant nothing.
But Ricky knows that's not true.
He felt it in every moment they spent together, the warmth in her gaze when she looked at him, the way she softened whenever he spoke to her daughter, the way she let him in even when she tried so hard to push him away.
And yet, she still left.
His chest tightens as he swallows the lump in his throat.
He should have stopped her, should have made her listen, but he knew, Adele wasn't in a place to hear him, not then. That's how she is, stubborn, and when she says no then it's a no.
What Ricky doesn't understand is why she has been entertaining her husband, the man who doesn't help her with anything.
So what is the reason she still wanted to stay...? Love?! Or did she want her daughter to grow up with her both parents?! Or is it the fact of what they had in the past?!
He doesn't understand.
He tilts his head back against the seat, exhaling a slow, shaky breath.
He knows his parents must be losing their minds right now.
His phone vibrates in the cupholder, another call coming through, but he ignores it. He doesn't need to look to know it's them.
The McCall family isn't used to not knowing where he is.
As the only surviving child, Ricky has always been at the center of their world. His two older siblings never made it past infancy, each born with a rare genetic disease that stole them away before they had a chance to live.
And when Ricky was born, healthy, strong _his parents clung to him as if he were their last chance at happiness.
He was their miracle. Their golden boy.
They shielded him from everything, wrapped him in wealth, luxury, and privilege.
Every whim was granted, every mistake erased before it could stain his perfect life.
And because of that, Ricky has always been… reckless. Maybe even a little selfish. He's never had to fight for anything, never had to hear the word no.
Until Adele.
She was the first person who didn't bend to his will. The first person who made him realize that money, charm, and privilege couldn't fix everything. And now, after everything, she was slipping through his fingers.
Another vibration from his phone. Then another.
He clenches his jaw.
His mother is probably in a panic by now, pacing the grand hallways of the McCall estate, wringing her hands as she demands answers from the staff.
His father, though more composed, will be no less worried.
Ricky can already picture him sitting in his study, his expression unreadable, phone in hand as he waits for Ricky's name to appear on the caller ID.
But Ricky doesn't call.
He doesn't text.
He just… exists in the silence of the car, lost in the weight of everything.
The city lights outside blur as exhaustion settles deep in his bones.
His body feels heavy, sluggish, but his mind won't stop racing. He doesn't want to go home, doesn't want to face their questions, their concerns. But he also knows he can't sit here forever.
Eventually, with a deep breath, he starts the car.
The drive back to the McCall estate is long, the roads mostly empty in the early morning hours.
The sky has begun to shift from black to a deep navy, hints of dawn creeping over the horizon.
The streetlights flicker past in a steady rhythm, but Ricky barely notices. His hands remain tight on the wheel, his thoughts tangled in everything that happened.
By the time he pulls into the long, winding driveway of the mansion, the sun has already begun to rise.
The estate stands tall and imposing before him, its grand architecture bathed in the golden morning light.
To anyone else, it might look breathtaking
,a home of wealth and prestige. But to Ricky, it feels like a cage.
He parks the car but doesn't get out right away. Instead, he sits there for a moment, gripping the wheel, forcing himself to gather whatever strength he has left.
He knows what's waiting for him inside.
And he's not sure if he has the energy to face it.
But he has no choice.
With a deep breath, he steps out of the car, the cool morning air hitting his skin. His movements are slow, reluctant, as he makes his way toward the grand entrance. He can already hear movement inside, staff shuffling about, hushed voices carrying through the vast hallways.
As Ricky steps inside, the heavy doors closing behind him with a soft but final thud, he immediately senses the shift in the atmosphere.
They know he's back.
The soft murmurs of the staff fade into silence, their gazes flickering toward him before quickly turning away.
The air is thick with unspoken tension, an anticipation that prickles at his already frayed nerves. He barely makes it two steps inside before he hears them.
"Ricky."
His mother's voice, relieved yet trembling
,cuts through the silence like a sharp breath of air.
Victoria McCall stands at the base of the grand staircase, her silk robe loosely tied around her waist, blonde hair slightly disheveled, a clear sign that she hasn't slept all night.
Her deep blue eyes, identical to Ricky's, shimmer with worry.
Beside her, Nathan McCall stands with his arms crossed, his usual composed expression marred by something unreadable.
He isn't the type to panic, but the set of his jaw tells Ricky everything, he's been waiting.
Ricky exhales, already exhausted by the conversation he knows is coming.
"I know, I know," he says, running a hand through his already tousled hair. "I'm sorry. I won't leave again without telling you where I'm going. And I'll pick up my phone next time, alright?" He sighs. "But I had something important to do."
Victoria's lips part, like she wants to scold him, demand an explanation, but instead, she just lets out a shuddering breath before closing the distance between them.
She hugs him, tight.
But Ricky doesn't move to hug her back. He just stands there, rigid, staring past her shoulder as her arms tighten around him.
"Oh, sweetheart…" she murmurs, pulling back to cup his face. "What happened to you? Have you been crying? What..."
"I'm fine," Ricky cuts her off, voice flat. "Just tired. I'll head to my room."
He steps back, but before he can take another step, his father's voice stops him.
"Ricky, we need to talk."
It's not harsh. Not demanding. Just steady. Firm.
Ricky clenches his jaw before slowly turning to face him. "About what?"
Nathan holds his gaze, unreadable as ever. "There have been rumors going around at the company. About you and that older woman. Adele."
The second he hears his father refer to her as nothing more than that older woman, something inside him snaps.
The ache in his chest sharpens into something raw. Something sharp and bitter.
Before his father can finish, Ricky's voice cuts through the space between them, sharper than a blade.
"They're not rumors."
His father stiffens.
"I love her," Ricky says, steady but firm. "And next time you address her, can you please do it with a little more respect, Dad? Thanks."
He doesn't wait for a response. He doesn't need one.
He turns on his heel and strides toward the stairs.
"Ricky."
His father's voice follows him, but Ricky doesn't stop. Doesn't turn back.
Because right now, he can't.
Because right now, stopping means feeling.
And feeling means breaking.
And he can't afford that.
All he wants to do is freshen up and by the time morning comes, he will be ready to go at the company, to see if Adele went to work, if she is fine.