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Chapter - 119
🕑 Added 2025-05-04 17:15:36 +0000 UTC[Title : A Ghost?]
.…
Gwendolyn crossed her arms. "First of all, this isn’t my workplace." She said irritably. "And second, do you have to start nagging the second you get here? What are you doing here anyway?"
Zephyr Owlsworth let his eyes sweep the venue - the crowd, the books, the mild chaos of a signing event in full swing. He sighed, realizing he had misjudged the timing.
“Fine.” He muttered. “We will talk later. I will wait at your apartment.” He signaled his assistant without another word.
Gwendolyn let out a dry sigh. “Since you are here and feeling generous, why not buy a thousand books at full price? Help my numbers.”
Zephyr shot her a look. “Scamming your own father? That is low, even for you.”
She shrugged. “Think of it as... supporting your daughter’s career.”
Her father gave a small chuckle and shook his head. Just as he turned to leave, a soft commotion drew both their eyes to the signing table.
Nothing loud - no shouting, or fuss - just a ripple of energy passing through the crowd.
Something light. Joyful.
Regal stood from his seat, a spark in his movement.
“Oii… cutie, what was your name again?” He called, hand cupping his ear like he was straining to hear.
In front of him stood a little girl, maybe seven years old, fists clenched tight at her sides, eyes shut in nervous anticipation.
Regal tapped his chin theatrically. “It started with a T, right?” He teased.
The girl’s lips quivered. She kept her eyes squeezed shut like she was holding her breath.
Regal caught the change in her expression instantly. His playful grin softened.
He paused just long enough.
“…It’s T—Lilly, right?”
The girl gasped. Her face lit up like the sunrise. She squealed and ran forward, throwing her arms around his waist.
Regal laughed, kneeling slightly to hug her back and ruffle her hair.
From the side, Gwendolyn watched it all. A quiet laugh slipped out.
“…He really is adorable.” She murmured without thinking.
Next to her, Maggie raised a brow.
“!..” Gwendolyn blinked, realizing what she had said. She cleared her throat, awkwardly straightening her coat as if that would erase it.
Her father, still watching from his wheelchair, leaned back slightly. Eyes narrowed with a glint of reluctant admiration.
“That guy…” He said, almost to himself. “He has got presence.”
His gaze lingered on Regal. The charisma. The command of the room. The subtle control.
“He is Regal, huh?”
Gwendolyn nodded. “Yep. Our ace. Two back-to-back hits. Made half the company’s year.”
“....” Zephyr said nothing at first.
Then, without looking at her, he shifted in his wheelchair and turned toward the crowd.
“Maybe I will say hello.”
But Gwendolyn moved fast.
“Oh no you won’t.” She threw up her hands, already circling behind him. “You have seen your daughter’s face, that is enough family time for today.”
Before he could react, she spun the wheelchair around and began pushing him briskly toward the exit.
Maggie and the assistant scrambled to follow, trailing behind them like ducklings in a rush.
Zephyr laughed, utterly unfazed. “Look at this brat! Manhandling her old man.”
“You will meet him later.” Gwendolyn snapped, steering him straight for his car. “Tonight. But now is not the time.”
Outside, she motioned to the assistant, who hurried to open the door and help him into the sleek black vehicle.
All the while, Zephyr chuckled as if this was the most fun he had in months.
….
Later that night, Gwendolyn stood in her apartment - high above the city, bathed in the soft hush of midnight.
The party was over. Most of the Everleaf team had gone home an hour ago, still buzzing from the book’s successful launch. Now, only quiet remained. The windows framed a skyline still recovering from celebration.
She stood with arms folded, staring into the dark.
Then came the sound - wheels slowing outside her door. A knock followed.
“Come in.” She said without turning.
Zephyr entered.
Gone was the playful man from earlier. His smile had vanished somewhere between the party and this room.
The lines on his face felt deeper. His presence, even in the chair, filled the space with the kind of gravity reserved for storms that never fully pass.
“Did I keep you waiting?” He asked, voice rough.
“You were supposed to rest.” Gwendolyn said softly, walking over.
“I should have.” He agreed. He rolled to the minibar, poured a glass of water, and took a slow sip.
They stood in silence for a moment.
He watched her. She didn’t flinch. But even she looked different now, still in control, still sharp, but quieter around the edges.
Zephyr had never fully stepped away from Everleaf. He read the briefs, followed the decisions. Pride was never in his vocabulary, but watching Gwendolyn lead the company had stirred something close.
And yet tonight, admiration wasn’t why he came.
“Gwen.” He said, placing the glass down with a faint clink. “I heard you have been in contact with Tolliver recently.”
She didn’t respond.
She didn’t need to.
They both understood the reference - Everleaf Press’s silent maneuvers into the comics industry.
But more specifically, toward a potential ‘acquisition’ of MarvelD Comics - MDC.
Zephyr’s expression didn’t shift, but the air changed.
“I remember that company.” He said finally. “I remember what it was before it collapsed. Hell, I was there when it started to rot.”
He exhaled slowly, like drawing out smoke that had never cleared.
“There is a reason I built Everleaf Press from scratch. A press house. Books. Authors. Something clean.”
Then his voice dropped, quieter.
“So why now?” Zephyr’s voice was low but sharp. “Why go after something you never even looked at before? Are you really willing to gamble everything you have worked, everything you earned, for a ghost?”
Gwendolyn’s lips twitched, not quite a smile. There was steel behind it, and something just shy of wounded pride.
“Is that what you think it is?” She asked quietly. “A ghost?”
Zephyr didn’t hesitate. “No. It’s a corpse. And you are trying to resuscitate it with sharks already circling.”
She stepped away from the window and toward him, the faint click of her heels punctuating the silence.
Then, playfully, almost tauntingly, she tilted her head.
“Maybe.” She said. “But what if I have got a whale on my side?”
“...” He narrowed his eyes, uncertain.
She smirked. “A blue whale, to be exact.”
Zephyr’s throat tightened.
Just for a second.
That spark - he had seen it before. The fire behind her eyes, the certainty in her stance. It struck him like a mirror held to the past.
He had worn that look once.
Back when Jerry still sat beside him.
When dreams didn’t feel like burdens.
Before the wheelchair. Before the cowardice. Before he let the world quiet him.
She wasn’t reminding him of who he was. She was becoming what he couldn’t.
“You are too much like me.” He said quietly. “And that terrifies me more than anything.”
Her voice softened. “Well he I am your daughter… You think I would be anything less? And you know me… I won't back down.”
For a while, he said nothing.
Then his gaze drifted, past her, past the walls - into a space that no longer existed, except in him.
….
New York, 1973.
A cramped room above a print shop. Yellowed blinds, clacking typewriters, sketches pinned to the walls with pushpins and caffeine.
Zephyr, barely nineteen, sat on the floor, legs crossed, panels spread out before him. Hands ink-smudged, heart thudding.
Across the desk, Jerry, broad-shouldered, sleeves rolled, voice always half-laugh, was locked in a quiet debate with Stan Lee, who was doodling between jabs with a red marker.
Jerry leaned over and said something that would outlive the moment.
“Dream stupid. That’s how you get ahead of the smart ones.”
And Zephyr had believed him.
….
Back in the apartment, the room returned.
Zephyr looked at his daughter. His jaw tightened - but the heat in his eyes was gone. What remained was weary respect.
“Just… don’t romanticize the ashes, Gwen.” He said, his voice almost a whisper. “I have buried enough people in them. Jerry. Stan. Your mother. Myself.”
Gwendolyn finally turned from the window, meeting his gaze with quiet certainty.
“I am not digg-”
The bedroom door creaked open.
Regal stepped out, tousle-haired and half-drowsy, wearing a navy T-shirt and dark slacks. He blinked at the dim light, still shaking off sleep. He must have passed out after the long day.
He always kept a change of clothes here - leftover from nights that turned into mornings.
He paused, taking in the room. Gwendolyn by the window. Zephyr at the bar. A tension that hadn’t yet dissolved.
Maybe he should have knocked. But he never did in this apartment.
“Everything okay?” He asked, careful not to intrude but clearly already doing so.
Zephyr straightened in his chair. “We are fine. Just a father and daughter, clearing old shelves.”
His tone was neutral. Almost guarded.
Then, a small nod in Regal’s direction. “And you must be Regal. Forgive an old man for showing up unannounced.”
“Not at all, sir.” Regal said easily. “You are Gwen’s father. This place is as much yours as mine. Honestly, I should probably give you two some space—”
“No need.” Gwendolyn cut in smoothly. “We are done talking. Right, Dad?”
Zephyr met her eyes, then gave a slow nod. “Yes.”
“Great.” She was already walking past them. “You two carry on. I am going to freshen up.”
She vanished through the bedroom door, the one Regal had just stepped out of, leaving behind the quiet thrum of the city outside and two men sitting in the calm that followed.
Regal glanced at Zephyr. Zephyr looked back.
A moment passed.
“…Join me?” Zephyr asked, lifting his empty glass in a slight gesture.
“If you don’t mind.” Regal said, grateful for the invitation. He moved to the minibar, poured a second drink, and took the seat across from him.
Then Zephyr’s eyes drifted to the manuscript Regal had left on the table earlier.
“That - what were you carrying? Looked like a draft.”
Regal nodded. “Yes, sir. Volume three of [Harry Potter].”
Zephyr's expression shifted - businesslike now, but not unkind.
“You can drop the ‘sir.’ Just Zephyr will do.” He reached for his glass, giving it a small tilt. “And… thank you. For what you have done for Everleaf Press. I don’t say that lightly.”
Regal raised his own glass in return. “Appreciate that.”
The clink of glasses followed.
A quiet beginning to something unstated - but not unrecognized.
“You serious about her?”
Regal didn’t flinch. “Dead serious. I want to build a life with Gwendolyn. And if it matters to her - it matters to me to have your blessing.”
Zephyr didn’t answer right away. Just looked at him, long enough to make most men sweat.
Then he leaned back, exhaled, and his lips curved, faintly.
“I doubt she cares much about my blessing, to be honest.”
That earned a quiet laugh from Regal. “Maybe not. But I do.”
Zephyr smirked, just a little. “She is like her mother that way. Hard-headed. Don't ask for permission. Don't wait for it either.”
He poured another round, this time without asking. Regal slid his glass forward wordlessly.
“I still own five percent of MDC….” Zephyr said, as if mentioning the weather. “Used to have more. Was told to sell most of it… walked away from the rest.”
Regal didn’t interrupt.
Zephyr continued, his voice low. “Before I hand those last shares over to Gwen… she needs to prove something… I need to know she can take something on her own.. Not inherit it. Not borrow it.”
Regal didn’t hesitate. “I don’t think it’s Gwen who needs to prove anything here. It’s me.”
Zephyr tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing - not with suspicion, but interest.
“It’s the same thing.” He said. “You prove you are worth her trust… and that will be enough for me.”
A beat passed. Regal’s voice was calm, clear.
“Then we are aligned. We have a deal, Zephyr.”
Zephyr didn’t smile, but something in his expression softened - just slightly.
A flicker of something older than pride. Maybe memory. Maybe regret.
“Let’s see if you can hold up your end.”
.
…..
[To be continued…]
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Comments
Rohit Reddy
I am unlocking it now.
Rahul Walia
Hmm, no new chapter unlocked today?
