The Golden Ruins (High School Series #2)

PROLOGUE

"I'll just take this real quick!"

I excused myself from Blue's company, going through the bustling crowd at the concert in search of a quieter spot to answer my business phone. The spotlights were beginning to illuminate the stage, signifying the commencement of the show.

I found a relatively peaceful corner, tucked away from the main stage. I retrieved my vibrating phone from my leather handbag and glanced at the caller ID.

It was Bai, my dedicated secretary.

Her tone was professional as she spoke through the line, [Your private jet has arrived.]

I couldn't help but furrow my brows in confusion as I stood in the dimly lit hallway, surrounded by the muffled sounds of the concertgoers.

"Private jet? What's that for?" I asked curiously, chewing a piece of candy in my mouth.

[You have a scheduled appointment in the Philippines tomorrow morning.]

I released a loud gasp before quickly checking my phone and saw a barrage of messages from Bai, all pleading for me to check my schedule. I ignored them all because my phone was off.

I had been so engrossed in my vacation that I had completely forgotten about any impending work!

Without wasting another moment, I hastily made my way toward the exit, the vibrant concert surroundings fading into the background. I had to leave Blue, the pulsating rhythm of the music, and the enchanting allure of New York behind.

Duty called, and I couldn't ignore it!

Eli: Heading to the airport! Sorry! Work!

After my flight, I found myself in the Philippines. I stood in front of the body mirror, the scent of exotic flowers wafting through the open window.

I reached for a bottle of perfume and sprayed it delicately behind my ears, savoring the delicate fragrance that engulfed the air. I took a moment to straighten my skirt, ensuring that every crease was flawlessly aligned. My outfit had always been a source of confidence, and today was no exception.

After a final glance in the mirror, I gathered my important business papers from the elegant coffee table at the side. There was already a car prepared by the front of the mansion when I stepped outside.

"Good morning, Miss Velez," a synchronized chant of voices rang around the company when I entered the headquarters.

I cheerfully greeted them back with a half-eaten cupcake in my right hand. I was positive that there were chocolate crumbs trapped between my teeth, but it didn't matter to me!

I looked up from my desk as Bai knocked gently and ushered in our client. Formal introductions were exchanged, and we settled into plush chairs around a sleek glass table. He was representing the Philippines' volleyball team, which was gearing up for the annual world championships.

"We would like you to design the jerseys for the team," he said, his tone filled with anticipation. He had a vision in mind, and I was eager to bring it to life.

We discussed design concepts, color schemes, and potential collaborations with local artists to infuse Filipino culture into the jerseys. I was fully immersed in the creative process, channeling my energy and passion into crafting a design that would make both the team and the Philippines proud.

Over the next few days, my team worked diligently, coordinating with the players to get their measurements and preparing the materials. We were driven by the excitement of the project, knowing that it would not only boost the team's morale but also bring a sense of pride to the nation.

I found myself in my cherished home office, seated at my vintage wooden table, a place where I sketched intricate designs while managing an unending torrent of emails. The room was adorned with an array of inspirational images, from vintage fashion magazine clippings to vibrant paintings.

I retrieved the document that Bai had handed me earlier this morning, its edges crisp and bearing the scent of fresh ink. As I delicately flipped through the pages, my eyes met the detailed measurements of the players for the very first time.

My pencil slipped from my lips, the familiar weight of nostalgia settling in my chest when I came across a name. One name, but it managed to unravel a cascade of memories, like a dusty attic full of forgotten treasures.

In the blink of an eye, I was transported back to a time when sunlight bathed everything in a golden glow—the thuds of balls being smacked across the court were the soundtrack of my youth.

My gaze fixed on that one name, and I couldn't help but trace the lines of his measurements with my eyes. A tender smile graced my lips as I looked at the progress he had made over the years. It was a silent testimony to the passage of time.

"Callum Ferran," I whispered the name like a cherished secret. "What would've happened if things took a different turn?" I mused aloud to no one but the walls of my cozy home office.

A soft, wistful sigh escaped my lips as I gently placed the document back on the table. The question hung in the air like a wisp of nostalgia, its weight felt in the very fabric of my being. My mind travelled on a nostalgic journey, a voyage through the corridors of memory where every door held the echoes of yesterday.

The name inked on that page, was more than just a name; he was a chapter in a story yet unfinished, a book still waiting to be written.