Chapter 5 Ghosts Don't Knock

The storm didn't come with thunder. It rolled in quiet-gray skies peeling over glass towers, mist curling like breath against the steel. Kael stood at the edge of the Langston Foundation's parking structure, his hands buried deep in the pockets of a worn coat that didn't match the black McLaren idling beside him.

He hadn't been here in years.

Not since the night he disappeared.

But ghosts always return to their graves first.

Vivienne's voice echoed in his head: "You don't come back to heal, Kael. You come back to conquer. Do not forget why we burned."

And he hadn't. God, he hadn't.

But the building in front of him-stone and glass and blood money-still made his chest tighten. The last time he stood under this sky, he was nineteen, bleeding, barefoot, and too naive to know silence could kill you faster than any blade.

A valet passed without recognizing him. Of course he wouldn't. Kael Arden was dead. The man standing here now? He was a ghost with a billion-dollar ledger and a vendetta that wore a slow, patient grin.

He flicked the cigarette off the ledge, turned, and walked toward the elevator.

---

Inside the Langston Foundation lobby, the lights were too bright and the marble too cold. He remembered polishing those floors for pocket change. Now he owns the cleaning company. And the building next door. And the one across from that.

One floor at a time. One empire at a time. Piece by piece. Quiet.

The woman at the front desk looked up. "Sir, do you have an appointment?"

"I do," he said smoothly, handing over a card. Not his real name, of course. A borrowed alias. Just enough to get him into Elias Langston's calendar.

She scanned the screen and blinked. "Mr. Weston. Right. You're five minutes early."

"I like being early," Kael replied. "Gives me time to think."

She gestured toward the private elevator. "Mr. Langston's on the top floor. His assistant will escort you."

Kael smiled. Just a flicker. "That won't be necessary."

---

Elias Langston didn't look up when the door opened. His office was sleek, modern-sharp edges and smooth lies. Just like the man himself.

"You're from the investors group?" Elias asked, eyes on his screen.

"Something like that," Kael replied, stepping in. His voice was lower now. Controlled. Not the street-wild tone Elias would've remembered.

Elias glanced up.

Froze.

That half-second where the blood left his face? Kael lived for that moment.

"You," Elias breathed.

Kael's eyes glittered. "Miss me?"

---

Selene stood outside her mother's suite, fingers tapping a nervous rhythm against her palm. She wasn't sure why she'd come-maybe to apologize, maybe to scream. But the door opened a crack, and Celeste's voice floated through the space.

"I don't care how much they're offering," her mother snapped into the phone. "Virellin estate is ours. Get the lawyers. We'll bleed them dry in court if we have to."

Pause. Silence.

Then: "No. Selene doesn't know yet. And she won't-unless you plan on having another scandal to manage."

Selene's breath hitched.

She backed away, careful not to make the floor creak.

They were hiding things from her. Again.

She slipped back into her room, the walls pressing in tighter now. She wanted to scream. Or break something. Or vanish.

Instead, she opened her window.

The wind rushed in, cool and sharp. The city lights below blurred through the mist. Somewhere out there, Kael was either bones or breath. And she didn't know which hurt more.

She closed her eyes and whispered, "Please... give me a sign."

---

Elias shut the office door behind them. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Kael walked slowly, inspecting the bar shelf like he owned the place. Because soon, he would.

"Nice office. New paint? Or just trying to cover the stench?"

"You're not supposed to be alive."

Kael took a bottle of whiskey off the shelf, poured two fingers neat, and handed Elias the glass.

"Surprise."

Elias didn't take it.

"You want money? What is this? Blackmail?"

Kael laughed. Short. Dry. "No. I've already taken enough of your father's. This isn't about money."

"Then what?"

Kael leaned in, voice low. "It's about debt. And balance. And ghosts you buried too soon."

Elias stepped back, suddenly paler. "If you come near Selene-"

"I'm not here for her," Kael said, voice steady. "Not yet."

He turned, drank untouched, and walked out without another word.

But Elias knew.

The past had come home.

And this time, it wanted more than blood.