The sound of steel bars clanking echoed through the dim, narrow corridor of Cartham Federal Prison.
Desmund Winslow sat alone on a wooden bench, his posture regal despite the tattered uniform he wore. His cell was cleaner than most .
A privilege bought with money and threats. Even in chains, Desmund still held power.
For months, the world outside had been silent to him. His influence waned, his empire stripped away by Gregory Winslow and Lucian Velmore's alliance. But tonight, the silence broke.
A shadow appeared at the edge of his cell door.
A man cloaked in gray, his face partially hidden beneath the prison lights.
Desmund's sharp eyes glinted. "You're late."
The man bowed his head slightly. "Apologies, sir. There were… checks. But I bring news you'll find worth the wait."
Desmund leaned forward, the faint smile on his face curving into something dangerous. "Go on."
The man looked around before stepping closer to the bars. "It's about Caliste Winslow."
For a moment, silence.
Desmund's smile faltered then returned, wider than before. "Caliste?" he repeated, his tone laced with mock amusement. "That foolish girl who thought she could erase her family's sins by playing saint? What about her?"
"She's back," the spy said. "In society. More than that… she's working again under Lucian Velmore."
Desmund's eyes darkened. "Lucian Velmore," he muttered the name like a curse, his jaw tightening. "So the rumors were true the ex-lovers have crossed paths again."
The spy nodded. "Yes, sir. They've been spotted attending the same events. The media speculates about reconciliation."
A low chuckle rose from Desmund's throat slow and venomous. It grew louder, echoing through the cell until it turned into full-blown, maniacal laughter.
"Lucian Velmore," he hissed between laughs, "for all his pride and power… still cannot forget Caliste Winslow."
He leaned back against the cold wall, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight. "How poetic. The man who destroyed me, the woman who betrayed her bloodline… both tangled in their own emotions again."
The spy shifted uncomfortably under Desmund's gaze. "What should we do, sir? We have limited communication channels here.."
Desmund cut him off with a wave of his hand. His tone grew cold, commanding.
"No rush. When you strike, you strike clean. And I've waited too long to make a mistake now."
---
Desmund's Calculations
When the spy left, Desmund remained seated in silence, his fingers tracing the cracks on the table before him.
He remembered the night he was arrested Gregory standing tall in the courtroom, Agatha watching with tears, and Caliste nowhere to be found. The humiliation burned even now.
He had underestimated Gregory's will to fight back. But it wasn't Gregory who ruined him.
It was Lucian Velmore.
That damned Velmore had used his wealth and influence to free Gregory from the false charges Desmund orchestrated. He had bought witnesses, overturned evidence, and in one decisive move, cast Desmund out of his empire.
And Caliste that ungrateful niece had begged Velmore to do it.
Desmund's lips curled into a snarl. "You took everything from me," he whispered. "But you've both forgotten one thing…" His voice turned low and sharp. "I never lose twice."
He stood, pacing the small cell. His mind worked fast calculating, cold, ruthless.
Lucian Velmore was nearly untouchable. His company was a fortress. His wealth was guarded by lawyers and loyal men. And his son the supposed heir was under the care of Victoria Velmore, one of the shrewdest women alive.
Desmund had once tried to pry into the child's identity years ago, but every trail ended in threats or silence. The boy's life was tightly shielded.
"No…" he murmured to himself, eyes narrowing. "Not the son. The Velmore bloodline protects its own."
But Caliste…
A slow grin spread across his face.
Caliste was emotional. Compassionate. Predictable. She carried guilt like a chain around her neck, and if Desmund knew anything about the human heart, it was that guilt could be twisted into a weapon far sharper than a knife.
"She will be the key," he whispered, the plan forming in his mind like poison taking shape. "Lucian's weakness isn't his empire. It's her."
---
A Visit in the Night
Days passed. Desmund's influence within the prison stirred back to life. He bribed a guard here, threatened another there, and slowly, his network reactivated. The Winslow name still held enough weight to open hidden doors.
One night, under the guise of a routine inspection, a man in a black coat entered his cell carrying a small tablet.
"Direct line, encrypted. No trace," the man said. "You've got five minutes."
Desmund smirked. "Five minutes is all I need."
He sat down and opened a secure connection. A flickering image appeared a well-dressed man in his forties, the Winslow family lawyer.
"Mr. Winslow," the lawyer greeted with a respectful nod. "We haven't spoken since your conviction. I assume you're calling regarding.."
"The Velmores," Desmund interrupted, his tone sharp. "I want every piece of dirt, rumor, and scandal tied to Lucian Velmore. And I want everything about Caliste's current movements. Where she lives. Where she works. Who she meets."
The lawyer hesitated. "That might be… delicate. She's under Lucian's employment now. Anything too direct could attract his attention."
Desmund leaned closer to the screen, his eyes glinting with menace. "Then be delicate. I want eyes on her quietly. I want her watched. Her routines noted. Her weaknesses found."
He paused, the faintest smile forming. "We'll remind the world what happens when you cross a Winslow."
---
Lucian's Unaware Calm
Meanwhile, in the gleaming heart of Velmore Industries, Lucian sat in his office late into the night. The city lights stretched endlessly beyond his window, but his mind wasn't on work.
It had been months since Caliste rejoined his world, and though he told himself he was fine with it, a strange unease lingered beneath his calm exterior.
She was close yet distant. He saw her every day, exchanged polite greetings, watched her work with quiet determination. But the more he saw her, the more his anger began to blur with something else something he didn't want to name.
He tried to convince himself that she was nothing but a colleague now. That her presence meant nothing.
But sometimes, when he caught her looking out the window with that same melancholy expression she wore years ago, his chest tightened.
Lucian Velmore was a man who could control anything markets, companies, people except his own heart.
---
Caliste's Quiet Strength
Caliste, on the other hand, was thriving professionally. Her designs were being praised internationally, her projects drawing in elite clients. Yet behind her composed smile was a storm she couldn't quiet.
She had seen her son from afar once in a car, beside Lucian's driver, the boy's laughter echoing faintly before the vehicle disappeared down the street.
She didn't approach. She didn't dare.
All she did was whisper to herself, You're safe. That's enough.
She thought she had escaped the shadows of her past. But the shadows were beginning to move again.
---
The Whisper of a Threat
A week later, as Caliste left her office, a man brushed past her in the lobby. It was just a brief contact his shoulder grazing hers but she felt something slip into her coat pocket.
She frowned, glancing back, but the man was already gone.
When she reached her car, she pulled out a folded piece of paper. No name. No signature. Only a message, written in cold, familiar handwriting:
> "Did you think you could hide from family forever?
The Winslows never forget their own."
Caliste's breath hitched. Her hands trembled as she read the line again and again.
Desmund.
It had to be him.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she looked around, fear coiling like a serpent in her stomach.
Three years. Three years of silence, of believing he'd finally been contained. But Desmund Winslow never accepted defeat.
She quickly burned the note with her car lighter, watching the paper curl into ash.
Then she whispered, voice trembling, "I won't let you touch him."
---
Desmund's Plan
Back in his cell, Desmund smiled as another report arrived through his secret channels.
> "Caliste received the message. Her reaction was exactly as predicted."
Desmund's laughter filled the small room again.
"Good," he murmured. "Let fear remind her of her blood. Once she feels cornered, she'll make mistakes. And when she does… Lucian Velmore will come running to save her."
He closed his eyes, the pieces of his revenge aligning like chess pieces on a board.
"Through her," he whispered, "I'll break him."
---
Foreshadowing the Storm
That night, Lucian stared at his reflection in the dark glass of his office window, unaware of the storm brewing beyond his empire.
He didn't know that the woman he still couldn't forget was already being hunted again by the man who once destroyed her family.
He didn't know that soon, his greatest strength the love he still denied would become his greatest vulnerability.
And Caliste, torn between fear and guilt, had no idea that her quiet return to Lucian's company had set Desmund Winslow's revenge in motion.
The past was no longer sleeping.
It was coming for all of them.