The sky was cloudy and grey when the private jet landed at the international airport. As the engines shut down, Michael Hudson repositioned the cuffs on his suit jacket. Five years had passed since he had last set foot on his home country, and it felt... confusing.
Not unpleasant. Not sentimental. Simply unknown.
All those years ago, he had left in a clean, purposeful manner, surgically separating himself from the life he no longer desired. He had been given purpose and then solitude by Europe. He had established charitable foundations, grown his business empire, and even ventured into low-key consulting.
But he had been followed by the ghosts. In particular, her.
The city skyline reappeared through the tinted windows as Michael got into the sleek black car that was waiting on the tarmac, his jaw clenched.
Looking at the itinerary, his assistant said, "First stop?"
Michael answered, "Hudson Innovations headquarters." "I want to see the results of remote management after five years."
"And tomorrow night's art gala? Should I verify my presence?
He paused. Indeed. I might as well act as though I'm having fun while I'm here.
Jason's hand was securely in Lorna Madden's as she entered the bright, white gallery lobby across town, adjusting the strap on her heels.
She had committed weeks ago to the preschool fundraiser—Lucas had volunteered to stay behind and oversee dinner—and now she was here, attempting to fit in with the artists, customers, and overly prim parents who were talking about donations and brushstrokes.
With wide eyes at a tall sculpture, Jason pulled her hand. "Mom! It's a robot!
She chuckled. "Sorry, sweetie. We call that abstract. Do you want to see it?
She heard the faint echo of a strong voice speaking to a curator and the faint rustle of suit fabric as she knelt down to take a picture of Jason close to the exhibit. She didn't see the figure entering through the far glass entrance.
Then she got up.
and stopped.
Thirty feet away, facing the other way, stood Michael Hudson.
Her world became smaller. The excitement at the gallery subsided. Her throat tightened with breath.
It was briefly rejected by her mind. He should have been in Europe. He was expected to remain absent.
Once more, Jason tugged at her. "Look, Mommy!"
She blinked. She gave herself a shake.
"No," she said in a half-to-self whisper. "No, not today."
She swiftly steered Jason away from the exhibit and toward the back hallway. She walked quickly and deliberately, her heart thumping in her chest like a warning bell.
She didn't turn around.
Something had struck Michael. A flicker of recognition, a pull. His gaze swept over the crowd as he turned toward the sculpture where a woman and child had just stood.
Nothing.
He scowled.
Strange.
However, it wasn't her. It isn't possible. She had left. married. He shouldn't have touched anything at all.
Still, the steel wall around his heart cracked for the first time since landing, and a ghost of her voice reverberated in his mind. Only a bit.
Only enough to allow her memory to lapse.