Chapter 5 - The Mafia Boss Who Finally Begged|
Callum Voss had spent three nights sleeping in his office.
Not because he lacked a home.
He owned several.
Not because he was afraid of being alone.
He had spent much of his life surrounded by people who feared disappointing him.
But the mansion had become unbearable.
Rosalind's absence was everywhere.
Her gardening gloves remained beside the back door.
Her favorite book lay open on the living-room table.
Her perfume still lingered on the pillow.
And every room reminded him of something he had taken for granted.
He had loved her.
That was the cruelest part.
He had genuinely loved her.
But somewhere along the way, he had started believing love didn't require attention.
That Rosalind would always understand.
Always forgive.
Always wait.
He thought about the anniversary party.
Sloane's hand striking Rosalind's face.
The look in Rosalind's eyes.
Not rage.
Not humiliation.
Disappointment.
The kind that arrived when a person finally stopped expecting better.
Callum closed his eyes.
Then his phone rang.
Gideon.
He answered immediately.
"Son."
Gideon's voice was cold.
"Mom wants a divorce."
Callum went still.
"What?"
"Her attorney will contact yours."
He stood.
"No."
A pause.
Then Gideon said:
"You don't get to say no."
Callum gripped the phone.
"Gideon, she's upset."
"She's finished."
Silence.
Callum swallowed.
"I need to speak to her."
"She doesn't want to see you."
"She's my wife."
Gideon's voice hardened.
"Then you should have remembered that before your mistress slapped her."
The words struck hard.
Callum looked down.
"I know."
For a moment, Gideon was silent.
Then he said quietly:
"Do you?"
Callum closed his eyes.
"Yes."
"No, Dad. You know you're losing her. That's different from understanding what you did."
The line went dead.
Callum stood motionless.
Then he made a decision.
He drove to Long Island.
Alone.
No guards.
No driver.
No entourage.
For the first time in years, he didn't arrive somewhere expecting the world to move aside.
He parked outside the beach house and knocked.
Rosalind opened the door.
She wore a simple cream sweater and jeans.
Her hair was loose.
Her face looked tired.
Beautiful.
And completely unfamiliar in its calmness.
"Callum."
His chest tightened.
"Rose."
She looked at him.
"Don't call me that."
He flinched.
"Rosalind."
"What do you want?"
He swallowed.
"To apologize."
She studied him.
"For what?"
Callum closed his eyes.
He had rehearsed this conversation the entire drive.
But now, standing in front of her, every prepared sentence felt useless.
"For the affair."
Rosalind said nothing.
"For lying."
Silence.
"For humiliating you."
Her expression didn't change.
"And?"
Callum looked at her.
"For allowing Sloane to hit you."
Rosalind's eyes filled slightly.
He continued.
"I should have stopped her."
"Yes."
"I should have defended you."
"Yes."
"I should never have brought her into our lives."
Rosalind looked away.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then she asked:
"Did you love her?"
Callum froze.
He could have lied.
He had lied so often.
But something about Rosalind's face told him another lie would destroy whatever dignity remained.
"I thought I did."
She nodded slowly.
"And now?"
He swallowed.
"I was selfish. I liked how she made me feel."
Rosalind gave a sad smile.
"Young."
He looked down.
"Admired."
"Important."
Callum closed his eyes.
"Yes."
She nodded.
For a moment, he thought she might cry.
Instead, she looked at him with extraordinary calm.
"Do you know what I wanted from you, Callum?"
His voice broke.
"What?"
"Nothing expensive."
He stared.
"I didn't need jewelry. I didn't need another house. I didn't need you to buy me flowers every time you missed dinner."
Tears filled her eyes.
"I wanted you to come home and be glad I was there."
Callum felt something inside him break.
"Rosalind..."
She shook her head.
"I wanted you to ask about my day."
His eyes filled.
"I wanted you to notice when I was tired."
She swallowed.
"And I wanted you to love me when nobody else was watching."
Callum couldn't breathe.
Then he did something no one had seen him do in decades.
He lowered himself onto his knees.
Right there on the porch.
"Please," he whispered.
Rosalind stared.
"Get up."
"I can't lose you."
She closed her eyes.
"Callum."
"I'll end everything with Sloane."
"You should have done that before the anniversary."
"I know."
"I'll give you anything."
She looked down at him.
Then said the words that broke him.
"That's the problem. You still think love is something you can purchase."
Callum began crying.
Real tears.
Silent.
Helpless.
Rosalind watched him for a long moment.
Then she whispered:
"I loved you when you had nothing."
He looked up.
"I know."
"I helped build everything you have."
"I know."
"And somewhere along the way, you forgot I was a person."
His face crumpled.
Rosalind stepped backward.
"I'm not coming home."
Callum remained on his knees.
"Please."
She shook her head.
"No."
Then she closed the door.
Callum stayed there for several minutes.
When he finally stood, his phone rang.
Martin Hale.
His attorney.
"Callum, we have a problem."
Callum wiped his face.
"What?"
"The transfers involving Mercer Capital."
He went cold.
"What about them?"
Martin hesitated.
"The account appears to have been used to move money from one of Rosalind's companies."
Callum frowned.
"Who authorized it?"
A pause.
Then Martin said:
"Someone using your credentials."
Callum stopped breathing.
"And Callum?"
"Yes?"
"The recipient account is linked to Victor Kane."
Callum felt cold spread through his body.
Victor Kane.
May you like
The man he'd spent fifteen years believing was dead.
And suddenly, Callum realized Sloane's affair might have been the smallest betrayal in his house.
