Chapter 13 - The Echo of a Debt Repaid
Back at Sullivan Enterprise, the rain had begun to fall again, streaking the massive soundproof glass windows of the 42nd floor with silver droplets.
Callum Sullivan stood by the window, watching the distant headlights crawl along Lake Shore Drive through the gathering twilight.
The door to the private office opened, and Hazel entered, quietly closing it behind her.
She walked over to his desk and placed a manila folder beside his coffee cup.
Callum turned around, studying her face in the dim lighting of the penthouse.
“How was it?” he asked quietly.
“Quiet,” Hazel answered, resting her hands against the edge of the mahogany desk.
“He’s facing fifteen years. The federal judge denied bail.”
“He’ll be safe inside the federal facility,” Callum noted, his voice devoid of triumph.
“The Bertinelli remnants don’t have reach inside that perimeter.”
Hazel looked up, her gray eyes locking onto his.
“And what about you, Callum?”
“Are you finally safe from your own ghosts?”
Callum crossed the floor until he stood directly in front of her.
Even with the healing brace on his shoulder, his presence commanded the entire room, filling the space with an undeniable, grounded strength.
“My father built this empire on blood, extortion, and silence,” Callum said, his voice steady and deliberate.
“He taught me that trust was a vulnerability and that everyone had a price.”
He reached out with his left hand, gently tucking the stray curl of dark hair behind her ear.
“Then you walked through those doors three years ago and proved every rule he lived by was entirely wrong.”
Hazel leaned into his touch, her eyes closing for a fraction of a second as she absorbed the warmth of his palm against her cheek.
“You changed, Callum long before I gave those journals to the federal prosecutor.”
“I didn't change,” he murmured, his face drawing closer to hers.
“I just finally found something worth protecting more than my own life.”
The intercom on the desk buzzed sharply, breaking the intimate stillness of the penthouse.
Frank Moretti’s gruff voice echoed through the speaker.
“Boss, we got a delegation from the municipal transit authority downstairs in the lobby.”
“They want to sign off on the new union contracts before the evening board meeting.”
Callum did not break eye contact with Hazel.
“Tell them to wait ten minutes, Frank,” Callum replied into the intercom.
“The gatekeeper is off the clock.”
Frank let out a dry chuckle over the speaker.
May you like
“Copy that, boss. Take your time.”
The intercom clicked off.
