I thought my life would continue this way, a steady climb of success uninterrupted by the past.
That was until I received an email from Brookside Business Association. The message was polite yet persistent, inviting me to return to England to support local enterprises through investment.
Brookside. A place I once vowed never to return to. Yet as the grievances of my past life replayed in my mind, I found myself boarding a plane back to my England.
"It's been five years," I murmured to myself, "let's see how much things changed."
***
The chairman of Brookside Business Association, Victor Stone, had organized a lavish welcome banquet to mark my return, inviting the city's prominent enterprises. After all, my investments were expected to breathe new life into Brookside's economy. Such a grand affair made sense.
But things didn't go smoothly. On the way to the hotel, the car sent to pick me up broke down unexpectedly. I stood by the roadside, the evening air heavy with the faint scent of rain-soaked pavement, trying to suppress my irritation. Time was running out. I hailed a taxi instead, brushing aside the driver's anxious apologies.