---- Chapter 15 The emptiness Ethan felt after Jessica' s downfall was a gaping wound. Revenge hadn't healed him. It had only deepened the chasm within. He drank more, slept less. His temper, always volatile, became explosive. Caldwell Industries continued its downward spiral. His executives, once loyal, now looked at him with a mixture of fear and pity. Meetings were tense, unproductive. Ethan was either lethargic and indifferent, or irrationally aggressive. He was destroying his grandmother's legacy, anda part of him, the self-destructive part, reveled in it. One afternoon, his CFO, a man who had served Eleanor Caldwell faithfully for decades, confronted him. "Ethan, the company is on the brink of collapse," Mr. Henderson said, his voice grave. "We need leadership. We need you." Ethan had just stared at him, a bottle of expensive scotch in ---- "Let it burn," Ethan had slurred, a bitter smile twisting his lips. 'It's all meaningless anyway." Henderson had left, his face pale with shock and dismay. The news of Ethan' s indifference spread like wildfire through the financial district. Caldwell Industries was finished. Ethan spent his days in Amelia' s old studio in the mansion, the one he had ordered preserved. He would sit there for hours, surrounded by her sketches, her half-finished canvases, the faint scent of her perfume still clinging to the air. He found a small, framed wedding photo he hadn't seen in years, tucked away in a drawer. Amelia, young, hopeful, her eyes shining with a love he hadn't deserved, hadn't even recognized. He looked so arrogant, so dismissive, even then. A wave of self-loathing washed over him. How could he have been so blind? He hired private investigators, the best money could buy. "Find her," he ordered, his voice hoarse. "| don't care what it costs. Find Amelia." ---- But Amelia had covered her tracks well. She had vanished, erased herself from his world as thoroughly as if she had never existed. The investigators came back empty-handed, their reports filled with dead ends and cold trails. "She doesn't want to be found, Mr. Caldwell," the lead investigator had said, his tone sympathetic. Ethan had smashed his phone against the wall, a raw sound of frustration and despair echoing in the empty room. He returned, again and again, to the small apartment Amelia had rented before she disappeared, the one she'd left the box in. He had kept the lease, unable to let go of that last tangible link to her. It was exactly as she had left it, sparsely furnished, impersonal, yet filled with her lingering presence. He would lie on the narrow bed, imagining her there, planning her escape, her heart filled with a resolve he had failed to see. The loneliness was a physical ache, a constant companion. One night, in the depths of his despair, he found himself on his knees in the empty apartment, the silence pressing in on him. ---- "Amelia," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Amelia, please. Come back. | was wrong. | was so wrong." Tears streamed down his face, tears of regret, of self-pity, of a love he had recognized too late. The room remained silent, offering no comfort, no absolution. He was alone with his ghosts, with the wreckage of his life. As dawn broke, a fragile sliver of resolve pierced through Ethan' s despair. He wouldn't give up. He couldn't If there was even a shadow of a chance, a whisper of hope, he had to find her. He had to tell her he was sorry. He had to try to make amends, even if she slammed the door in his face. He owed her that much. He owed himself that much. + Redemption. It was a faint, distant star, but it was the only thing left to guide him through the darkness He would find Amelia. He had to.