Chapter 107: The Woman He Couldn’t Forget

Chapter 107: Chapter 107: The Woman He Couldn’t Forget

The Calloway family estate sat twenty miles outside the busy city limits, hidden behind massive iron gates and a long, winding driveway.

It was not just rich. It was old money. It was generational wealth.

There were no flashy, bright sports cars parked in the circular driveway. There were no loud, modern art pieces screaming for attention in the grand foyer. Everything about the estate was elegant, quiet, and built to last centuries. The stone walls were covered in thick, dark ivy. The hardwood floors were polished to a perfect shine.

It was a world of absolute, unshakable privilege.

Mason handed his dark wool coat to the waiting butler and walked into the formal dining room.

The dining table was entirely massive, carved from solid oak, but only three places were set.

Mason sat near the head of the table. His mother, Victoria, sat across from him. His father, Richard, sat at the head.

They were not villains. They were loving, deeply supportive parents. They had been the ones to stand by his side when his knee completely shattered, helping him pivot from a broken athlete into a brilliant businessman.

But they were still Calloways. And that meant they were incredibly demanding.

Victoria took a graceful sip of her sparkling water. She looked at her son.

"Any luck finding someone?" Victoria asked casually.

Mason did not look up from his plate. He smoothly cut a piece of his steak.

"No," Mason answered flatly.

Richard set his silverware down. He looked at Mason with sharp, perceptive eyes that looked exactly like his son’s.

"You are already thirty, Mason," his father pointed out quietly.

Mason kept eating. He knew exactly where this conversation was going.

They were not pushing him because they were desperate for grandchildren to run around the estate. The pressure was entirely corporate.

"Your professional life is completely flawless," Richard continued. "The board is thrilled with the quarterly numbers. The international expansion is ahead of schedule. But you are the face of Calloway Football Group now."

Mason set his fork down. "My personal life has nothing to do with the club’s financial stability."

"It has everything to do with it," his father corrected gently. "Investors look at the man leading the company. Sponsors want a relatable face. They want family stability. The media is starting to ask questions."

Victoria leaned forward slightly. She looked at him with genuine, maternal concern.

"Every magazine writes about your business," Victoria said softly. She paused for a heavy moment. "They praise your mind. But they also notice the empty space next to you at every single gala. The next headline will be asking why you are alone."

"Let them ask," Mason replied coldly. "I do not answer to gossip columns."

"You answer to a board of directors who care about public image," Richard reminded him. "A wife brings stability. It shows the world you are building a legacy, not just a bank account."

Victoria reached onto the empty chair next to her. She picked up a slim, expensive leather folder.

She placed it on the polished table and slowly slid it across the wood until it stopped directly in front of Mason’s plate.

Mason looked at the dark leather cover. He did not touch it.

"What is this?" Mason asked.

"Just a few profiles," Victoria explained calmly. "Incredibly successful women. There is a chief of surgery at the city hospital. There is an heiress to a shipping company. They are brilliant, driven, and understand the demands of our lifestyle."

Mason stared at the folder. He felt a familiar, heavy exhaustion settle into his bones.

"Just have dinner," Victoria pleaded gently. "One dinner. That is all I am asking. Pick one of them and spend two hours talking over coffee."

Mason finally moved his hand.

He placed a single finger on the leather cover. He did not open the flap. He did not look at a single photograph inside. He just pushed the folder straight back across the table to his mother.

"I am completely booked this quarter," Mason said quietly. "I do not have time for dinner."

Victoria sighed softly, taking the folder back.

The dining room fell completely silent. The only sound was the quiet clink of silverware against porcelain.

Richard watched his son carefully. He saw the tight, rigid set of Mason’s jaw. He noticed the way Mason’s dark eyes looked completely distant, lost somewhere far away from the expensive dining room.

Richard leaned back in his chair.

"Is there someone you can’t forget?" his father finally asked.

The question completely cut through the quiet room.

Mason froze.

His massive shoulders went entirely rigid. He did not look up at his father. He just stared down at the expensive, untouched red wine sitting in his crystal glass. He watched the dark red liquid catch the light from the chandelier above them.

The silence stretched on. It grew heavier and heavier with every passing second.

Victoria looked at her husband in surprise, and then looked back at her son. She waited for him to deny it. She waited for Mason to laugh and say he was just too busy with football to date.

Mason did not deny it.

He slowly reached up and wiped his mouth with his linen napkin. He set the napkin down next to his plate and finally looked up at his parents.

"Dinner was excellent," Mason said smoothly. His voice was completely empty of any emotion.

He looked directly at his father.

"Did the legal team finalize the London broadcast contracts yet?" Mason asked.

Richard stared at his son for a long moment. He understood exactly what was happening. Mason completely changing the subject was the loudest, most honest answer he could have possibly given.

Richard slowly nodded. He picked up his wine glass.

"They finalized it this morning," Richard replied, playing along.

The conversation safely shifted back to corporate takeovers and budget reports. But the truth was already sitting heavily in the center of the table.

It was nearly midnight when Mason finally returned to the city.

He walked into his quiet, modern penthouse. It was a massive, stunning apartment, but it always felt entirely too empty. It lacked the warmth of a real home.

He shrugged off his dark suit jacket and tossed it casually over the back of a leather sofa. He loosened his expensive silk tie and unbuttoned the top of his shirt.

He walked down the long, dark hallway toward his bedroom.

The walls were completely lined with dozens of heavy, framed photographs. They were visual proof of his massive success. There were pictures of him shaking hands with the mayor. There were photos of him holding gold championship trophies. There were massive business awards.

He had completely conquered the world. He had everything a man could possibly want.

But as he walked past the frames, he did not feel proud. He just felt completely exhausted.

His cell phone vibrated sharply in his pocket.

Mason stopped walking. He pulled the phone out and looked at the bright screen. It was a text message from his young assistant.

Mr. Calloway, Miss Ellis’s article has reached two million reads. The board is incredibly pleased with the public response.

Mason stared at the notification.

He walked into his dark bedroom. He did not turn on the lights. He sat down on the very edge of his perfectly made, massive bed.

He unlocked his phone.

He did not reply to his assistant. Instead, he opened the internet browser. He clicked on the saved bookmark.

The article loaded immediately. Her name, Audrey Ellis, was printed proudly in bold letters at the top of the page.

Mason sat alone in the dark, silent penthouse. He scrolled down the page, and he quietly read her words all over again.