Chapter 6: The Past Refuses to Stay Buried

Several days passed after the engagement announcement, but the city showed no signs of losing interest in the Chapman family's newest couple. Business magazines continued publishing articles about Nathaniel's unexpected rise, while social media remained filled with debates over Beatrice's shocking decision.

Some praised her wisdom.

Others insisted she would eventually return to George.

Beatrice ignored every rumor.

She had spent one lifetime worrying about other people's opinions.

She refused to waste another.

Early Monday morning, Nathaniel arrived at the Layton residence exactly as promised.

This time he wasn't carrying flowers.

Instead, he held several folders.

"Good morning," he greeted politely.

"I hope I'm not interrupting breakfast."

"Not at all," Mr. Layton replied warmly.

"Come in."

After everyone settled into the living room, Nathaniel placed the folders on the coffee table.

"These contain the preliminary wedding arrangements," he explained.

"But before making any decisions, I'd like to know what Beatrice wants."

Mr. and Mrs. Layton exchanged surprised looks.

Most wealthy families planned weddings without ever asking the bride's opinion.

Nathaniel was doing the opposite.

"I don't want this to become a business event," he continued.

"It's our wedding."

"It should reflect who we are."

Beatrice looked at him quietly.

"Thank you," she said sincerely.

"For asking."

Nathaniel smiled.

"It seems like the obvious thing to do."

They spent the next hour discussing possible venues, guest lists, and dates.

Unlike the extravagant celebrations suggested by Chapman family advisors, Beatrice preferred something elegant but simple.

"I don't need the entire city watching," she admitted.

"I'd rather remember the people than the decorations."

"Then that's exactly what we'll do," Nathaniel replied.

"The wedding should belong to us—not to public expectations."

His answer once again reminded Beatrice how different he was from George.

With Nathaniel, every decision felt like a conversation.

With George, every decision had once been an order.

Meanwhile, inside Chapman Group Headquarters, George sat through yet another executive meeting without hearing a single word.

"George?"

"George!"

He finally looked up.

"Yes?"

"We've been asking your opinion for the last two minutes," one director said awkwardly.

"Sorry," George muttered.

"Continue without me."

The meeting ended shortly afterward.

As everyone filed out, Mr. Chapman Senior remained seated.

"Stay behind," he told George.

Once they were alone, the elderly man folded his hands.

"You've been distracted lately."

"Is something troubling you?"

"No."

"Don't lie to me."

George sighed.

"Grandpa..."

"Do you think people can suddenly change?"

"Of course," Mr. Chapman Senior answered.

"Life changes people every day."

"But overnight?"

"Sometimes."

"Especially after suffering."

George frowned.

"What if someone remembers things that never happened?"

The old man's expression changed ever so slightly.

"Dreams?"

"No."

"They feel... real."

Mr. Chapman Senior studied his grandson carefully.

"Perhaps your conscience is trying to teach you something."

"Conscience?"

"Only you know what you've done."

George fell silent.

Had he done something?

Or was he remembering something he hadn't done yet?

That evening, Isabella arrived unexpectedly at the Chapman Estate.

She carried a small basket of homemade pastries.

"I heard you've been working too hard," she told George with a gentle smile.

"So I brought your favorite desserts."

"Thank you," George replied absentmindedly.

"You're welcome."

She carefully watched his face.

"You're still thinking about Beatrice, aren't you?"

"Why does everyone keep asking that?"

"Because it's obvious."

George looked away.

"I'm only confused."

"Nothing more."

"Are you?" Isabella asked softly.

"Or are you upset because she chose someone else?"

"She was never supposed to choose someone else."

The words slipped out before he could stop them.

Isabella's smile disappeared for just a moment.

"You said you didn't want to marry her."

"I know."

"Then why are you acting like you've lost something?"

George couldn't answer.

Because he honestly didn't know.

Later that night, another memory surfaced.

This one lasted longer than the others.

He saw himself standing outside a hospital room.

Inside...

Beatrice lay unconscious.

Doctors whispered urgently.

Someone handed him a medical report.

Across the hallway stood Isabella, crying quietly.

Then everything faded.

George opened his eyes, breathing heavily.

"Hospital..." he whispered.

"Why do I keep seeing that hospital?"

Across town, Beatrice was organizing several old boxes in the attic of the Layton house.

Among faded photographs and childhood drawings, she discovered an old leather journal.

It had belonged to her grandfather.

Curious, she opened it.

Most pages described his years during the war.

Near the end, however, one passage caught her attention.

"True courage isn't choosing the person you love the most."

"It's choosing the one who will protect your heart when life becomes difficult."

Beatrice slowly closed the journal.

Tears filled her eyes.

"Grandpa..."

"You understood long before I did."

That evening she received a phone call from Nathaniel.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you," he said.

"Not at all."

"I was wondering..."

"Would you like to have dinner tomorrow?"

"Just the two of us."

"I'd love to," Beatrice answered.

"Good."

"There's something I'd like to ask you."

"What is it?"

Nathaniel laughed softly.

"Tomorrow."

"Some conversations deserve to happen face to face."

After ending the call, Beatrice smiled.

For the first time in years...

She found herself looking forward to tomorrow.

Not because of excitement.

Not because of obsession.

But because she genuinely wanted to know the man standing beside her.

Elsewhere in the city, George stood alone in his apartment, staring at his own reflection.

The memories were becoming clearer.

More detailed.

More painful.

And with each passing day...

One terrifying possibility grew harder to ignore.

"What if..." he whispered.

"What if Beatrice remembers everything too?"

The question echoed through the silent apartment.

For the first time since her rejection...

George realized he might not have lost Beatrice because of another man.

He might have lost her because of the man he himself had once become.