Chapter 17: The Promise

The family tree was a mess, but I knew where I stood. My roots ran deep.

When I was three, my mother took her own life, leaving Charles as my guardian, holding my shares.

The memory was a dull ache, but I shoved it aside. Tonight was about business, not grief.

“The engagement with Harrison was also arranged by Charlotte and me. The Whitmores have supported the Callahans out of old friendship all these years. But I never expected such a scandal from your family!”

The old man’s voice shook, disappointment heavy as lead. I bowed my head, feigning shame.

The old man coughed hard.

His hand trembled. I saw Harrison move to steady him. The tension was thick enough to choke on.

Harrison leaned back, lips curling in arrogance: “I’m the only Whitmore heir. Whitmore Group is at its peak. But look at Callahan Group now… Do you think Savannah is worthy of me?”

His words were cold, calculated. I felt the sting, but kept my composure.

Sitting beside him, I hunched my shoulders, hands clenched tight.

I made myself small, giving them what they expected—a scared, helpless girl.

“She was never worthy. After this, if I marry Savannah, people will laugh at me.”

Harrison’s voice was flat, eyes unreadable. The room turned on me, whispers rising.

I bowed my head, breath shaking, humiliated and uneasy.

I let a single tear slip, the perfect image of wounded pride.

“I can’t marry a pretty shell with nothing inside—unless Savannah has ‘value.’ Of course, I promise not to interfere in Callahan’s management.”

His words were a dare, a line in the sand. I met his eyes, letting him see the fire inside me.

Charles hesitated, glancing at me again.

He weighed his options, desperation etched in every line. I waited, silent, patient.

This spineless, timid weakling—how could I run a company?

I let him believe his own lies, knowing the truth would come soon enough.

On paper, the shares would be mine, but Charles would keep control. After the wedding, he’d force me to sign them over—I wouldn’t dare resist.

I saw right through him.

I smiled inside, the pieces falling into place.

When Charles finally said “alright,” I quietly lifted the corners of my mouth.

Victory tasted sweet, but I kept my triumph hidden.

The share transfer was signed on the day of the engagement.

The notary stamped the papers, the sound final. I watched my father’s hand tremble as he signed away his power.

Staring at Charles’s signature, I sneered.

I let my mask slip for just a second. He saw the real me, and I saw the fear in his eyes.

“Happy now?” Harrison pinched my chin. “Got what you wanted? Satisfied? I’ll transfer your half of the shares soon.”

His touch was possessive, his gaze unreadable. I smiled, letting him think he was in charge.

He kept his word.

The paperwork arrived the next day, my name in bold. Satisfaction rushed through me—finally, power was mine.

“No rush,” Harrison pulled me up. “Come with me.”

He took my hand, leading me to his car. The engine roared, and we sped out of the city.

He drove us out past the suburbs, up into the hills.

The skyline faded, replaced by rolling fields and thick woods. The world felt wide open, full of promise.

The roads were rough, headlights slicing through the dark.

The silence between us was easy, the night air cool and clean. I watched the stars blur by, my heart steady.

“Scared?” he asked suddenly on a sharp turn.

His voice was teasing, but his eyes were serious. I shook my head, fearless.

I shook my head.

He smiled, approving. The car climbed higher, the city shrinking behind us.

His long fingers gripped the wheel, tapping lightly, totally at ease.

“I’ve driven tanks—this won’t flip.”

He laughed first, like he was letting me in on a secret.

His laughter filled the car, warm and genuine. I joined in, the sound echoing in the night.

“I’m not worried,” I replied softly.

I met his gaze, letting him see I meant it. I trusted him, more than anyone.

Not only did I know he’d driven tanks, I knew he’d served with the Army Rangers, done tours in the Middle East—a true soldier.

I respected his scars, the stories he carried. They matched my own.

Harrison pulled into a valley. Under the moonlight, fields of lavender stretched out, perfuming the air.

The flowers glowed silver, the scent thick and calming. I breathed deep, letting it soothe my nerves.

He propped himself on the hood and motioned for me to join him.

I climbed up, the metal cool under my legs. We sat side by side, the world sprawling before us.

I copied him, sitting shoulder to shoulder.

Our arms brushed, a quiet intimacy settling. I felt safe, anchored by his presence.

“We’re engaged. When’s the wedding?” I asked.

My voice was steady, my eyes searching his. I wanted this—all of it.

Harrison slid his arm around my waist, voice low and rough: “So impatient?”

He pulled me close, his breath hot on my ear. I laughed, the sound bright in the dark.

Of course. After waiting so long, I finally caught him—I wasn’t letting go.

I let my head rest on his shoulder, the tension melting away.

He chuckled softly: “Why do I feel like you’re really into me?”

His voice was teasing, but his eyes were serious. I met his gaze, fearless.

I arched a brow, playful: “Why not just admit it?”

I nudged him, grinning. He rolled his eyes, but I saw the smile tugging at his lips.

“I…”

He hesitated, searching for words. I leaned in, closing the gap between us.

I leaned in, whispering in his ear: “I really like you.”

My words were soft, but the truth in them was sharp. He shivered, the air between us charged.

His eyes darkened. He pressed me onto the hood, looking down at me.

His body was warm, solid. I felt his heart pounding, matching mine.

His breath grew heavy. “You can close your eyes, or…”

His voice was rough, thick with want. I smiled, closing my eyes.

Or? Enough talking. I kissed him.

Our lips met, the world falling away. For the first time, I let myself want, let myself take.

For the first time, those deep, lazy eyes filled with surprise, then melted into a smile as our lips met.

He laughed against my mouth, the sound full of joy. I knew, in that moment, that we were equals—partners in every sense.

After the engagement, with the shares in hand, my first move was to kick Charles off the board.

The boardroom was silent, tension crackling. I stood at the head of the table, my voice steady as I called the vote.

The chairman’s office was left in shambles.

Papers littered the floor, the desk overturned. Charles stormed out, his pride in tatters.

Charles pointed at me, hurling every insult he knew.

His words bounced off me, powerless. I watched him go, feeling nothing but relief.

But I just smiled, calm and unhurried.

I straightened my blazer, smoothing the fabric. The room was mine now, every inch of it.

“No need to get mad. This was never yours—I’m just taking back what’s mine. You always said it’d be mine one day, that I shouldn’t scheme against you. But between us, who was the real schemer?”

My words were soft, but the accusation cut deep. He flinched, the truth landing hard.

I walked up to him, dropping the act, my tone mocking:

I let him see the real me, the woman he’d underestimated for so long.

“You were married to my mom for five years, cheated on her over and over, and when she was depressed, you let your side chicks into the house, drove her to suicide. All these years, hiding a bunch of illegitimate kids—must’ve been exhausting. Now you don’t have to hide. No one will use them against you, threaten your spot. Because from now on, you have nothing.”

I watched his face crumble, the mask slipping. The truth was ugly, but it was mine to wield.

Charles stared at me, shocked and afraid.

His eyes were wide, his hands shaking. I felt nothing but satisfaction.

After a long silence, voice like sandpaper, he croaked: “…After all, they’re your siblings. Can’t you—”

He pleaded, but I shook my head, unmoved.

“No,” I cut him off, cold as ice. “I’ve never had any brothers or sisters.”

My voice was final, the last nail in his coffin. He turned away, broken.

That night, FaceTiming with Harrison, I brushed my hair and sighed.

The laptop glow lit my face, the room quiet and safe. I let my guard down, just for him.

I was still too soft. I actually called 911 when Charles had a heart attack.

I ran through the house, dialing with shaking hands. Old habits die hard, even when the man’s a monster.

“Savvy did nothing wrong. Savvy’s just too kind,” Harrison sighed with me.

His voice was warm, comforting. I smiled, grateful for his understanding.

Whitmore Group’s Chicago branch was having problems; Harrison had been on a business trip for days.

He looked tired, the city lights of Chicago flickering behind him. I wished I could reach through the screen, close the distance between us.

On video, I unbuttoned two buttons, pulled my hair aside, revealing my bare shoulder.

His eyes darkened, a slow grin spreading. I laughed, teasing him with a wink.

Harrison squinted, eyes dangerous, voice husky: “I’ll be back next week. Aren’t you scared, teasing me like this?”

His voice was rough, desire thick in the air. I bit my lip, loving the game.

“Why next week?” I pouted. “Can’t it be tonight?”

I let my voice go soft, pleading. He groaned, running a hand through his hair.

His breathing grew heavier through the phone.

The tension crackled, even across the miles. I smiled, knowing I had him right where I wanted.

When it came to teasing Harrison, I was a natural. I laughed, all elegance gone, mischievous as a little demon.

I tossed my hair, grinning at his frustration. He shook his head, but I saw the affection in his eyes.

“Savannah. Wait for me. I’ll deal with you when I get back!”

His threat was half-hearted, his smile soft. I blew him a kiss, letting the moment linger.

He threatened me from a thousand miles away, and I responded by pulling up my dress, provoking him further.

I heard his sharp intake of breath, the connection crackling with static. I laughed, feeling powerful.

As Harrison gritted his teeth, I laughed without restraint.

The sound echoed in the empty room, a promise of things to come.

I loved matching wits and strength with him—in business, in bed, everywhere.

He was my equal, my partner in crime. Together, we were unstoppable.

Before sleeping, I was already plotting how to stoke the fire when he got back next week.

I scribbled notes in my journal, planning our next adventure. The future felt bright, full of possibility.

But just as I was about to drift off, the world began to shake.

The bed trembled, the walls groaned. I sat up, heart racing.

I snapped awake—it was an earthquake!

Sirens wailed outside, the city thrown into chaos. I grabbed my phone, dialing Harrison with shaking hands.

Luckily, only the tremors reached us—it wasn’t severe.

The news anchor’s voice was calm, reassuring. I exhaled, but the fear lingered.

But the epicenter was Chicago.

My heart dropped. Harrison was there. I prayed, willing him to be safe.

Chapter Fifteen

The news ran nonstop for 24 hours.

Images of destruction filled the screen—collapsed buildings, fires, people trapped under rubble. I watched, hands shaking.

Chicago was in ruins—countless dead and injured.

The numbers climbed with every report. My phone buzzed nonstop, texts from friends and colleagues flooding in.

Traffic paralyzed, no water or electricity, comms down.

The city was a war zone. I paced the floor, desperate for news.

“The first batch of supplies is ready, but the roads are blocked. It’ll take two days to reach Chicago.”

Eli’s voice was strained, the logistics daunting. I shook my head, refusing to wait.

“I can’t wait that long.”

My voice was hoarse, but my eyes were clear. “Prep another batch. Pack it separate.”

I rattled off orders, brain moving fast. Every second mattered.

“How?” Eli asked.

His voice trembled, but I heard resolve underneath.

“Two bottles of water, a box of meds, three bags of bread, a rain poncho. Hire a chopper—drop them from the air.”

I rattled off the list, sharp and quick. Eli hesitated, but I pressed on.

Eli was stunned: “That’s too expensive.”

He protested, but I cut him off. Money meant nothing if Harrison was gone.

I hadn’t slept in two days, my eyes bloodshot. “No airdrop stops until the roads open.”

My voice was steel. Eli nodded, rallying the team.

Eli hesitated, but seeing my determination, agreed.

He hung up, already making calls. I slumped in a chair, exhaustion threatening to crush me.

The drone sent back images of Chicago—devastation everywhere.

The city I loved was unrecognizable. I bit my lip, refusing to cry.

High-rises collapsed, people buried alive.

The footage was raw, unfiltered. I scanned every frame, searching for a familiar face.

Could Harrison be among them…

I pressed my hand to my chest, willing my heart to keep beating.

I didn’t dare think.

The fear was a living thing, coiled in my gut. I forced myself to focus, to act.

In less than two days, the road opened early.

The news was a miracle. I grabbed my bag, ready to go.

Leaving Eli behind, I followed the supply trucks into Chicago.

The convoy rumbled through ruined streets, sirens wailing. I clung to the seat, eyes glued to the destruction outside.

The real disaster was worse than any video.

The smell of smoke and blood was everywhere. I covered my mouth, fighting nausea.

The wounded, the wailing, the bodies covered in dust.

I moved through the chaos, handing out supplies, searching every face. My hands shook, but I kept going.

After delivering supplies, I stayed to search for Harrison, not sleeping, checking every injured or dead person.

I haunted the hospitals, the makeshift morgues. My voice grew hoarse from asking, hope dwindling by the hour.

Until exhaustion overwhelmed me—I couldn’t even stand.

My knees buckled, the world spinning. I collapsed on the sidewalk, too tired to care.

My vision blurred. I looked up at the gray sky, feeling helpless for the first time.

The clouds drifted overhead, indifferent. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the darkness.

The noise faded.

The city fell away, replaced by a strange, peaceful silence.

Someone asked me, “You’re looking for Harrison, right?”

The voice was gentle, concerned. I tried to answer, but the words wouldn’t come.

I looked numbly at them, ears ringing, and fainted before I could reply.

The world slipped away, the last thing on my mind his name.

Harrison—I came for you.

My final thought was a prayer: let him be alive.

Chapter Sixteen

“Savvy.”

His voice echoed in the darkness, pulling me back.

Kid…

A memory, sharp and sweet. I clung to it, desperate to wake up.

“Savvy, wake up.”

The words grew louder, more urgent. I fought to open my eyes.

You’re not one to behave…

His laughter, warm and familiar, wrapped around me like a blanket.

“Savvy!”

I gasped, the world rushing back. The light was blinding, the air sterile.

Play those stronger than you in your palm…

The old lesson, his voice gentle but firm. I smiled, tears stinging my eyes.

I seemed to be dreaming, yet almost awake.

The boundaries blurred, reality and memory intertwining.

I saw young Harrison smiling at me, heard him calling me again and again.

His face was the same—kind, mischievous, unbreakable.

I struggled to open my heavy eyelids, the bright white light stinging my eyes.

The hospital room came into focus, the smell of antiseptic sharp. I blinked, disoriented.

My mind was still foggy, but a familiar low, lazy laugh sounded by my ear: “My Sleeping Beauty is finally awake.”

His voice was rough, but full of relief. I turned, finding him beside me, battered but alive.

Harrison and I were both hospitalized.

Our beds were side by side, IVs snaking into our arms. The nurses moved quietly, their faces tired but kind.

His arm was broken; I had low blood sugar.

He wore a sling, his fingers bruised. I flexed my own hands, grateful for the pain—it meant I was alive.

He was worse off—besides the fracture, he had scrapes and cuts, even several fingernails torn off.

The sight made me wince, guilt gnawing at my insides. He caught my gaze, shaking his head.

When the nurse changed his dressing, I saw his bloody nail beds and felt a sharp pain in my chest.

I reached for his hand, squeezing gently. He smiled, the pain forgotten for a moment.

When the earthquake hit, Harrison had jumped from the third floor of his hotel, relying on his skills. He was unharmed at first, but immediately joined the rescue.

His training kicked in, his instincts saving lives. I listened, awe and fear mingling in my chest.

The streets were chaos, aftershocks frequent. Harrison saved many people, getting hurt himself. Only when his arm broke and he collapsed did rescuers take him to the hospital.

He shrugged off the pain, his only concern the people he couldn’t save. I kissed his forehead, grateful for his stubbornness.

“Savvy,” he smiled at me, “don’t cry.”

His voice was gentle, his eyes soft. I wiped my cheeks, realizing I was crying after all.

My eyes were dry and sore. I said coldly, “I didn’t cry before seeing you, and I won’t now.”

He laughed, the sound bright and real. I smiled, letting the tension melt away.

He just smiled. When the nurse left, I pulled out my own IV and walked over.

I winced, but the pain was worth it. I needed to be close to him, to feel his heartbeat.

“Savvy?”

His eyes widened, concern flickering. I shook my head, determined.

“Last time on video, you said you’d deal with me next week.”

I stood by his bed, staring at his unshaven face, expressionless. “Today is next week.”

My voice was steady, my intent clear. He grinned, understanding.

When I kissed Harrison, I tasted disinfectant.

The taste was bitter, but I didn’t care. He was alive, and that was all that mattered.

It was bitter, but I couldn’t stop—I wanted to lose myself in him.

I pressed closer, letting the world fall away. He tangled his good hand in my hair, pulling me closer still.

“Wait,” Harrison turned his face, half-laughing, “Savvy, I’m a patient, weak.”

His protest was half-hearted, his eyes dark with desire. I smiled, unrepentant.

“It’s fine,” I replied calmly. “I’ve got enough strength.”

I straddled his legs, careful of his injuries. He laughed, surrendering to the moment.

Chapter Seventeen

I kissed him again.

Our lips met, soft and searching. I poured all my fear, my relief, my love into that kiss.

Only when the bitterness faded did I taste Harrison himself.

His warmth, his strength, his stubbornness. I let myself get lost in him, safe at last.

He was alive.

I whispered a silent thank you, gratitude filling every inch of me.

Thank God.

I closed my eyes, savoring the miracle of this moment.

Harrison panted softly, his deep eyes drifting to the zipper of my jacket.

He reached out, fingers tracing the line of my collar. I shivered, anticipation building.

“I still prefer you in a vintage dress—so beautiful I can’t look away.”

His words were soft, reverent. I smiled, knowing I’d always have a piece of the past with me.

I unzipped and took off my thick jacket.

The hospital gown was unflattering, but he looked at me like I was the only woman in the world.

Under Harrison’s expectant gaze, I lay beside him, hugged his waist, and sighed.

His body was warm, his heartbeat steady. I let myself relax, the fear finally ebbing away.

His scent, his breath—unmistakable.

I buried my face in his chest, letting the rhythm of his breathing calm me.

“Savvy.”

His voice was a whisper, full of wonder.

“Hm?” My voice was barely a whisper.

I looked up, meeting his gaze. He smiled, brushing a strand of hair from my face.

“…That’s it?” he asked.

His tone was teasing, but his eyes were serious. I nodded, content.

“Mm.” Another soft reply.

He laughed, pulling me tighter. I closed my eyes, letting sleep claim me.

Harrison laughed, pulling me into his arms.

His laughter was warm, the sound of home. I drifted, safe in his embrace.

“Want to hear a story?” he asked.

I nodded, face buried in his shoulder, yawning with exhaustion.

His voice was low, soothing. I felt myself slipping, the edges of the world softening.

“Years ago, I was stationed in the South. On duty one day, I saw two people dragging a little girl into an alley. She was filthy, face dirty, hair a mess—but her eyes were bright, and she bit down so hard there was blood, nearly tore off flesh. When she saw my uniform, she called for help. The two claimed she was their kid. Guess what? The girl stopped shouting and started speaking Spanish, then French—flawless accent. No one could believe she was just a normal kid. I saved her, asked where her home was—she wouldn’t say. Tried to take her to the police—she refused. We stared each other down. Later, she got hungry, refused mac and cheese or veggies, insisted on ice cream. What a little terror… I bought her ice cream. Only when she was happy did she finally talk. She said she’d run away to see how long she could survive on her own. A nine-year-old with thinking like that—I’d never met one. But I liked her: wild, brave, clever, unforgettable. When I wondered how to send her home, she said she wanted to go back—adventures weren’t fun, and no matter how tough she acted, she was still a kid. ‘I’m really just a kid,’ she said. I realized then, I didn’t just like her—I admired her. Her knee was hurt. I carried her home, and on the way, I told her…”

His voice was a lullaby, the story weaving around me like a blanket. I listened, half-awake, the words sinking into my bones.

Kid, I can tell—you don’t play by the rules. But guts aren’t enough. You gotta be clever, patient, know when to act weak. That’s how you play the big dogs, not get played yourself…

I smiled, remembering the lesson. It had carried me through every storm.

“When I brought her back, I found out she was the Callahan family’s girl from the South—my little fiancée. She thanked me, gave me a handkerchief, said only her grandmother could weave silk like that. Many years later, I touched that fabric again.”

He brushed his fingers through my hair, his touch gentle. Tears pricked my eyes, gratitude and love swirling together.

Harrison spoke softly. I didn’t know when I fell asleep, only vaguely felt him kiss my forehead.

His lips were warm, the promise of forever lingering in the air.

“I know—my little girl’s all grown up. When she was born, I held her. When we die, as she wished, we’ll have a sea burial together.”

I drifted into sleep, safe in the knowledge that I was loved—fiercely, completely, and forever.

[End]