Chapter 10

Holden Wolf POV:

The opulent private dining room at The St. Regis felt suffocating, despite the sparkling chandeliers and the hushed professionalism of the waitstaff. Kamryn' s parents, all polite smiles and probing questions, sat opposite us, their eyes constantly assessing, calculating. Kamryn, radiant in a blush-pink dress, kept shooting me adoring glances, but I barely registered them. My mind was elsewhere. Specifically, it was empty. Chelsea-shaped empty.

"Holden, darling, you seem a little... distracted," Kamryn observed, her perfectly manicured hand reaching across the table to squeeze mine. "Are you feeling alright? You look a bit tired."

I forced a smile, a practiced reflex. "Just a long day, Kamryn. Work."

She nodded, but her eyes, usually so bright, held a hint of concern. Or perhaps, irritation. "You've been working so hard, H. Sometimes I worry you don't take enough breaks. You were up all night, weren't you?"

I just grunted, taking a sip of the ridiculously expensive champagne. My gaze kept drifting to my phone, lying face down beside my plate. No new notifications. No calls. Nothing.

"Perhaps you should call Chelsea, dear?" Kamryn suggested, her voice sweet, almost too sweet. "She hasn't been returning my calls either. She usually loves to hear about party planning. Maybe she's feeling left out."

My jaw tightened. "Chelsea is fine," I said, a little too sharply. "She's an adult. She doesn't need me to check up on her."

"Oh, really?" Kamryn's eyebrow arched, a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in her expression. "Because when I called her, she didn't seem particularly... responsive. And I thought, for your birthday, she might at least send a text. You two were always so close."

A cold dread settled in my stomach. "You called her?" I asked, my voice flat.

Kamryn giggled. "Of course! She's family, H. I worry about her. Especially with her being so sensitive. I just thought she might appreciate an invitation to the party, a little olive branch, after... you know." She trailed off, implying our earlier argument about Chelsea's "dramatics."

My heart pounded. "And what did she say?"

Kamryn shrugged, a delicate movement of her shoulders. "Nothing. She didn't pick up. And she hasn't replied to my messages. Maybe she's busy with her own plans." She gave me another one of her saccharine smiles. "She always was a bit of a lone wolf, wasn't she? So independent."

The word "independent" twisted in my gut. It wasn't the independence I'd envisioned for her. It was a cold, hard wall. A complete absence. She wasn't just building boundaries. She was gone. Utterly, irrevocably gone.

A sharp, searing pain shot through my chest. The kind of pain that made it hard to breathe. No. This wasn't right. This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

"She's quite resilient, your sister," Kamryn continued, oblivious to the storm brewing within me. "She always struck me as someone who would just pack up and move on. Not cling to the past, like some people." Her gaze flickered to me, a hint of something knowing in her eyes. "You know, if you really wanted to talk to her, you should just call her yourself, H. But I doubt she'd pick up. She's very stubborn when she sets her mind to something."

My hand instinctively reached for my phone, but then I stopped. Pride. Stubbornness. Call her? What would I even say? Come back, Chelsea. I miss your constant presence. I miss knowing where you are, what you're doing. It sounded pathetic. And possessive.

"She'll come around," I said, my voice rough. "She always does. She knows where her home is."

Kamryn sighed, a long, weary sound. "Do you really believe that, H.? Or are you just trying to convince yourself?" She shook her head. "Sometimes, you really are blind. You can be so obtuse when it comes to her."

Her words stung, a surprising truth from a woman I barely considered insightful.

"Enough about Chelsea," Kamryn said, her tone suddenly cheerful again. She picked up a glossy brochure for wedding venues. "Let's talk about our wedding! Have you decided on the theme? I was thinking a grand, romantic affair. Something truly unforgettable."

I stared at the brochure, at the smiling couples, the elaborate floral arrangements. Unforgettable. All I could think of was Chelsea, her platinum hair, her empty room, her deafening silence.

"Holden? Is something wrong?" Kamryn asked, her smile fading.

"The wedding," I said, my voice flat, hollow. "It's off."

The words hung in the air, shattering the polite hum of conversation, freezing the smiles on Kamryn's parents' faces. Kamryn stared at me, her mouth slightly agape, her eyes wide with shock.

"Holden! What are you saying?" she finally managed, her voice a strained whisper.

"I'm saying," I repeated, pushing back my chair, the scrape echoing in the sudden silence, "the wedding is off. I can't do this."

I stood up, leaving Kamryn, her parents, and the champagne flutes behind. The table, laden with exquisite food and delicate rose petals, seemed to mock her. I walked out of the private room, out of the restaurant, without a backward glance.

The cool night air hit me, a welcome shock. But it did nothing to cool the raging storm inside me. I had just blown up my engagement, my carefully constructed future, because of a ghost. Because of a silence that was louder than any scream. Because Chelsea was gone. And I, Holden Wolf, finally felt it. The terrifying, soul-crushing weight of her absence.