Chapter 3 Chapter 3
Chapter 3
(Monterey, California)
The loud scream echoed in his head again. That same scream that had never stopped hunting him for a year now.
He ran towards the cliff, but she was already gone. The sound of her body hitting the rocks below was something he could never forget. Every night, it played like a broken record in his head her scream, her face, and then… silence.
He woke up frightened, breathing hard and chest rising fast.
“No!” he shouted, sitting up in bed, his hand clutching the sheet.
He looked around the room dark, quiet, the clock beside him showing 5:02 a.m. His entire body trembled.
He dragged the blanket over himself, shaking. Tears filled his eyes before he could stop them. It didn’t matter how many times he told himself it was only a dream it always felt real.
“It’s just a dream,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Just a dream…”
But it wasn’t.
That scream was real. The fall was real. And she was gone.
He rubbed his face with both hands, trying to steady his breath. His palms were cold. His shirt was soaked in sweat. He sat there for a long minute before finally getting up.
The wooden floor felt cold under his bare feet as he walked toward the bathroom. He turned on the shower and let the water run before stepping in.
Cold water poured over his body, sliding down his face and chest. He kept his eyes open, water stinging them, refusing to blink.
He wanted to feel something else anything other than the pain in his chest.
He looked up at his reflection through the steam on the glass.
Tired eyes stared back at him eyes that once looked full of life but now carried nothing but guilt. His stubble was thick, his hair messy, his jaw tight.
“Get over it, Ethan,” he muttered, gripping the sink edge.
But he couldn’t.
He still saw her face.
And he had been part of it.
He hit the sink once, hard enough to make his knuckles hurt, then let the water run again before walking out.
By six, he was already dressed crisp navy suit, white shirt, matching tie. He fixed his cuffs, sprayed his cologne, and buttoned his jacket. On the outside, he looked perfect calm, sharp, collected.
Inside, he was falling apart.
The city was still quiet when his black SUV stopped in front of the Castellan Enterprise building.
The door was pulled open immediately by the guard.
“Good morning, sir,” they greeted.
He nodded in return, his face unreadable.
The moment he stepped inside, people straightened their clothes, whispered softly to one another.
“Morning, Mr. Castellan,”
“Good morning, sir,”
He didn’t stop to talk. He just nodded and walked toward the elevator, his briefcase in hand, the familiar scent of coffee and perfume following him.
Ethan Castellan.
Tall, handsome, broad shoulders, blue eyes, and a head of thick brown hair that caught the light perfectly.
The youngest CEO of Castellan Enterprises, and the only son of business tycoon Richard Castellan Hollywood and Maria Castellan Hollywood.
Everyone saw success when they looked at him.
Confidence, Power, Control And Money.
But no one saw what he hid the panic attacks that came without warning, the sleepless nights, and the heavy guilt that refused to leave.
His elevator opened to the top floor.
He walked down the quiet hallway, the sound of his shoes echoing lightly until he entered his office.
The large glass windows stretched from floor to ceiling, overlooking the whole city.
He placed his briefcase on the table and loosened his tie a little before sitting down.
He tried to focus on work. Emails. Documents. Meetings.
But the words on the paper blurred.
He stared at the screen, then out the window again and it hit him.
That night.
Her scream again.
The laughter before it.
He was the loudest of all and her greatest nightmare.
He didn’t know she’d run off crying.
He didn’t know she’d climb up the cliff.
He pressed his hands to his face, trying to push the memory away, but it kept coming back.
He had shouted her name, but it was too late.
That was the last time he saw her.
She died.
He stood up from his chair and walked toward the window. His reflection stared back at him.
“Did I killed her ?” he whispered.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, but the guilt stayed.
Every day he told himself to move on.
Every night, her scream brought him back.
A knock on the door broke his thoughts.
“Come in,” he said quietly.
His assistant, Ryan, entered holding a tablet. “Good morning, sir. The board meeting starts at nine. Also, the HR team is expecting you to review the new intern list today.”
Ethan nodded without looking up. “Leave it on the desk.”
“Yes, sir,” Ryan said and quietly left.
Ethan picked up the tablet but didn’t scroll.
New faces. New names. People eager to work under him.
He didn’t care.
He just needed to get through another day without fal
ling apart.
He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling.
He stood up again, went to the window, and looked down at the busy street below.
Life had moved on.
People were smiling, laughing, walking as if nothing happened.
But he couldn’t move on.
