Page 55 of Ardent Desires

I freeze. “Yes. That’s me. And you are…?”

The woman pauses, her gaze unwavering. “I’m… Deborah Whitaker.”

The name doesn’t ring a bell, but something about her presence has me on edge. I fold my arms, trying to keep my voice steady. “Who are you, and what do you want?”

She hesitates, and there’s a visible tremor in her voice when she finally speaks. “I’m your mother.”

I stare at her, my mind reeling. “No,” I say, almost laughing at the absurdity of it. “You’re mistaken. I think you have the wrong person.”

“No, I don’t.”

“I’m sorry Deborah but you have to be mistaken. My mother’s name was Carolyn. She died when I was thirteen.”

The woman—Deborah—winces, like I’ve struck her. Her voice breaks as she says, “I know. That’s… what I was told, too. That she… died.”

The world feels like it tilts sideways, and I grip the doorframe to steady myself, trying to process her words. “Wait—what?” I manage, the confusion twisting into something sharper, darker. “Told by who? Who are you? How do you know my mother?”

Deborah’s face softens with something I can’t read—grief, maybe. Pain. “Please,” she says quietly, “can I come in? I… I can explain.”

Every instinct in me is screaming,don’t let her in,but I find myself stepping aside, gesturing for her to enter. She walks in slowly, her gaze flicking around my small living room, taking it all in, as if this is the first real glimpse she’s ever had into my life.

I close the door behind her, feeling like I’m walking into some kind of nightmare.

What the hell is going on?

As I stand there, my mind races with questions I never thought I’d have to face. This woman—my mother—was supposed to be gone forever, and yet here she is, breathing and standing in my living room. The weight of her words settles heavy on my chest, twisting my emotions into a knot. I feel like I’m on the edge of a cliff, looking down into an unknown darkness, and all I can do is hope for a light to guide me through this chaos. What does this mean for me? For the life I thought I knew? My heart pounds as I take a shaky breath, ready to confront the ghosts of my past.

Chapter fifteen

The Mole Within

Xander

I adjust my laptop screen, sitting straighter as the meeting host enters the call—a man named Jean-Luc Renault, a well-known figure in high-end real estate across the Riviera. He greets me with a curt nod, his tone all business.

“Monsieur Blackwood, thank you for your interest in this property.”

“Thank you for making time to discuss this,” I reply, keeping my tone steady, businesslike. This isn’t just any property—it’s prime land with the perfect coastal view for the luxury resort I want to bring to life. I’ve spent years building in tech, but this? This feels like a legacy.

Jean-Luc wastes no time, eyeing me curiously. “I must admit, I’m intrigued why a man of your background, known for software and infrastructure, wants to step into hospitality and resorts.”

I lean forward, steepling my fingers. “I’ve built IT innovations that run hotels and smart homes, high-security systems. But I want to create something tangible, Jean-Luc. A resort designedwith a blend of technology and exclusivity. Think an immersive luxury experience where every suite adjusts itself to fit each guest’s preferences—temperature, lighting, entertainment, all tailored by their devices and habits.”

He nods, visibly impressed. “Interesting. It would require a great deal of technical expertise and investment, though, yes?”

“Yes,” I reply, unwavering. “I’ve planned this extensively. It’s an ambitious billion-dollar plan, with multiple phases, but it’s achievable. And profitable.”

Jean-Luc taps a pen on his desk, considering my words. “A resort that redefines luxury in the Riviera. I can see why you’re interested in this land.”

I nod, sensing a window of opportunity. “Exactly. But I need the right location to bring it to life. And I believe your property is it.”

He pauses, and something in his eyes shifts. “There’s competition, Monsieur Blackwood. You aren’t the only interested buyer.”

My jaw tightens slightly. “Who are the other buyers?”

A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, but he doesn’t offer any names. “I can’t disclose that. I’ll have to consult with my own advisors and lawyers to see where the offers stand. I will keep you informed.”

The call ends on a polite note, but there’s a sense of finality that weighs on me. As I close my laptop, the vision I had—the beachfront terraces, the seamless technology integration—all of it feels just out of reach. And I can’t stand it.

---