Chapter 6 - THE GHOST FROM THE PAST
Three weeks passed with a quiet, miraculous stability that Elena still woke up half-expecting to evaporate like a dream.
She had quit her three exhausting jobs. With Cameron’s backing, she had enrolled in a tuition-free certificate program in graphic design at NYU—pursuing the career she had abandoned ten years ago when life went sideways. Hope was enrolled in a wonderful neighborhood school two blocks away, where she was finally making friends and learning how to draw without worrying about whether they would have electricity that night.
Cameron was a constant presence in their lives—not as a savior looking down from an ivory tower, but as a friend who dropped by with groceries, helped Hope with her spelling homework, and sat with Elena on the fire escape talking about everything and nothing.
Then, on a crisp December evening, the illusion of safety fractured.
Elena was walking home from her evening design class, her canvas bag slung over her shoulder, the cold city air biting at her cheeks. As she turned the corner onto her street in Astoria, she noticed a man leaning against a dark sedan parked near her apartment building.
He wore a cheap leather jacket, his collar turned up against the wind, a cigarette dangling from his lower lip.
When he turned his head and she saw his face, the blood instantly drained from Elena’s veins.
Derek.
Her ex-husband. A man she hadn't seen in four years—a man who had left a trail of debt, broken promises, and terrifying bruises before disappearing into the criminal underbelly of Chicago.
“Hello, El,” Derek said, pushing himself off the car and stepping into her path, his smile cold and predatory. “You’re looking well. Expensive clothes, nice neighborhood. Looks like running away across the country finally paid off.”
Elena backed up instinctively, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. “What are you doing here, Derek? How did you find me?”
“Let’s just say I have friends who keep track of people when they suddenly inherit expensive apartments in Queens,” Derek sneer, stepping closer. He reached out and grabbed her wrist with a grip like a vice. “Did you really think you could hide from me forever? And more importantly... did you really think you could leave me behind while you live high on the hog with some rich billionaire boyfriend?”
Elena gasped, trying to yank her arm away. “I don't know what you’re talking about! Let go of me!”
“Don't play stupid with me!” Derek hissed, his face darkening with rage as he jerked her toward him. “I saw the tabloid articles online. ‘Tech Tycoon Cameron West Drops Forty Million for Mystery Woman in Queens.’ Everyone in the city is talking about you. Which means you’re sitting on a goldmine, El. And since we’re still legally married... half of that billionaire’s fortune belongs to me.”
“We’re divorced! The papers were signed in Chicago!”
“The papers were never filed, sweetheart,” Derek laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. “Which means whatever your new sugar daddy gave you... I’m taking my cut. Or else I go to the press, tell them what a fraud you are, and make sure social services takes your little brat away for good.”
Before Derek could tighten his grip further, a heavy, velvet-smooth voice cut through the cold evening air like a blade.
“Let go of her.”
Derek froze. He turned his head, and his eyes widened as Cameron stepped out from the shadows of the building’s entryway.
Cameron wasn't wearing a suit tonight. He wore a dark wool coat, his hands buried deep in his pockets, his slate-gray eyes fixed on Derek with a terrifying, absolute stillness that made the streetlights seem to dim around them.
“And who the hell are you?” Derek demanded, though his grip on Elena’s wrist noticeably slackened.
“I’m the man who is about to show you what happens when you touch someone on my property,” Cameron said softly.
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. Because stepping out of the shadows behind Cameron were two massive, broad-shouldered security professionals in black overcoats—the same men who guarded West Global’s executive vaults.
Derek panicked. He shoved Elena backward—sending her stumbling into Cameron’s arms—and tried to reach for the door handle of his sedan.
He didn't make it.
In less than three seconds, both security guards moved with terrifying efficiency. Derek was tackled to the pavement, his arms twisted behind his back with a sharp, metallic click of handcuffs before he could even draw a breath to scream.
Cameron caught Elena, steadying her as she trembled against his chest.
“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice softening instantly as he looked down at her, checking her wrist where red marks were already forming.
“I’m... I’m okay,” Elena whispered, tears of terror and humiliation stinging her eyes. “He’s my ex-husband, Derek. He found me because of the news articles. He says we’re still legally married.”
Cameron looked down at Derek, who was thrashing helplessly against the pavement under the guards’ boots.
“Marcus!” Cameron called out over his shoulder.
Marcus Sterling stepped out of the lobby, holding a sleek leather briefcase and a smartphone.
“Yes, Cameron?” Marcus asked calmly.
“Run a background check on this piece of trash. Then pull up the state database for any unfiled domestic injunctions and fraudulent debt collection in Illinois,” Cameron instructed coldly. “And call my divorce lawyer. Tell him I want this man legally erased from Elena’s life by sunrise, or I’ll buy his debt, foreclose on his life, and ship him to a federal penitentiary in Alaska.”
“Right away, boss,” Marcus smiled grimly, tapping away on his phone.
May you like
Cameron turned back to Elena, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close, sheltering her from the cold wind and the ghosts of her past.
“You’re safe,” Cameron whispered into her hair. “I promise you, Elena. No one is ever going to hurt you or Hope again.”
