Five years later.
At the airport, a reporter tried to get closer to Arianne as she passed through the arrival gate. Noticing she was being followed, she raised an inquisitive brow. He looked away first, lowering his phone and disappearing into the crowd, likely realizing it wasn't worth approaching her.
Arianne continued walking. Her pace never changed. People brushed past without recognition, eyes sliding over her as they would any other traveler.
She hadn't planned to return to Montclair City. Not because she was afraid to face the past, but because she didn't want to dwell on it.
Five years ago, she had left without hesitation. But the sudden passing of her friend had forced her return to this place.
The airport was bustling, people streaming in every direction. Some were glued to their phones, while others were quietly arguing with airline staff, looking pretty frustrated.
Aside from the reporter earlier, no one paid Arianne any attention. She used to be at the center of a scandal that had everyone talking years ago, but now, no one gives her a second glance.
Perhaps they had forgotten her or didn't care about her anymore. Maybe it was for the best. Perhaps time had done what she could not.
"Let me help you with that luggage, Auntie," Arianne said, reaching for the handle of the larger suitcase next to her nanny.
"You worry too much, Aria," Aunt Estella replied with a small laugh.
Despite everything, she seemed pleased to be back in the city where Arianne was born and raised. It was only unfortunate that their return was marked by the loss of Arianne's best friend.
The drive into the city passed quietly.
Arianne watched familiar streets slide past the window, landmarks half-remembered and subtly changed. New buildings had risen, replacing the old ones, while the others remained untouched, stubbornly refusing to move on, to keep up with the trend.
Montclair City hadn't waited for her.
Cities rarely did. They shed people as easily as they replaced buildings, carrying on without sentiment. She hadn't expected this one to mark her absence—or her return.
At the hotel, Aunt Estella checked in under her name, while Arianne waited in the lobby, pretending to read a magazine as she watched the people coming and going.
She wasn't trying to hide her arrival but wanted to avoid unnecessary attention. She had come for one reason alone.
Once they entered the room, its wide windows offering a clear view of the city skyline, Arianne set her suitcase aside.
Only then did she allow herself to lower her guard and relax.
Aunt Estella turned on the television, lowering the volume at once. The news played softly in the background.
It didn't take long for it to change to another tune.
The sudden passing of the CEO of Rochefort Group and his wife due to a multiple-car collision three days ago.
It immediately took Arianne's attention.
Alexander Rochefort, thirty-five, and his wife, Layla Michaels, thirty-four, were found dead in the backseat of their vehicle, curled protectively around their twins. Their children survived. Three others were not as fortunate.
The anchor continued speaking, offering details Arianne had already read, but hearing it aloud was different. It left her with no chance to contest that it was just a lie.
Spoken aloud, the details became immovable. There was nothing to reinterpret, nothing to correct. The loss existed whether she acknowledged it or not.
"It was only yesterday when Alex married Miss Layla," Aunt Estella murmured softly. "Too young."
Arianne didn't answer right away.
It was Alex who had helped her leave the country five years ago. Alex, who had erased her tracks so thoroughly that Arianne Summers vanished from Montclair City without a trace. Even Dominic had been unable to find her.
He had done it without asking for explanations. Without demanding repayment.
"You need space," he had said then. "So take it."
"The children must be devastated," Arianne said quietly, her gaze fixed on the screen.
"Poor kids," Aunt Estella agreed. "They're too young to fend for themselves."
Arianne hummed in response.
She had turned out all right because she had Aunt Estella. Someone who stayed. Someone who chose her when others didn't. Not everyone was fortunate enough to have that kind of constancy.
She doubted anyone would step forward so easily for Alex's children.
"Are you going to attend the funeral mass?" Aunt Estella asked after a moment.
"No," Arianne replied, her voice steady. "You're free to attend if you wish. I'll pay my respects once everything is over."
She had no desire to take away everyone's attention from the funeral.
Arianne also wanted to deal with her grief in private, away from prying eyes.
Aunt Estella studied her for a moment, then nodded in understanding. She could see that Arianne was trying to keep her tears at bay. Arianne wouldn't say it vocally, but Alex was like a brother to her.
"If you need to visit friends or relatives," Arianne added, "this would be a good chance. I took five years of your life away from this place."
Aunt Estella waved her off with a light laugh, already reaching for her phone. "Then I suppose I'll make a few calls. Since we'll be staying for a month, I'll need to make your meal plan and schedule the groceries."
"Auntie," Arianne said, a faint smile touching her lips, seeing how excited Aunt Estella was. "I can take care of myself. Just enjoy your time with your friends."
When Aunt Estella stepped away to make her calls, the room grew quiet again.
Arianne turned her attention back to the television.
The screen changed, displaying an old photograph of Alex and Layla. Alex was grinning at the camera with pride. Layla leaned into him, her smile softer, steadier.
A memory surfaced.
Alex laughed as he handed her his squalling son, joking that she was a natural, that she would be far scarier as a mother than as a CEO. She had scoffed then, holding the baby at arm's length as if he might explode, before returning him almost immediately.
The image dissolved as the broadcast moved on.
Arianne remained where she was, expression unreadable.
Returning had never been part of her plans.
She had come back for him.
Nothing else mattered.