Chapter 2

The San Francisco fog clung to the glass exterior of the NovaTech building as I pushed through the revolving doors, my heels clicking against the polished marble floor. One week after the UCLA reunion, I'd successfully buried the memory of Ethan's cold eyes and his fiancée's diamond ring beneath layers of work and determination. At least, that's what I told myself as I adjusted my blazer and headed toward the elevator.

'First day jitters?' asked the receptionist, handing me my new security badge.

I offered her my professional smile—the one that revealed nothing. 'New challenges are what I live for.'

NovaTech represented everything I'd worked toward since rebuilding my life: prestigious, innovative, and most importantly, far removed from anything connected to my past. The marketing director position would cement my reputation in the industry. I twisted the silver ring on my finger—a nervous habit I'd never managed to break—before tucking my hand firmly into my pocket.

The executive floor buzzed with activity as I was led to my new office. Glass walls, sleek furniture, a view of the bay that most would kill for. I set my laptop bag down, already mentally arranging the space to suit my workflow.

'The department heads meeting starts in fifteen,' my assistant informed me. 'Conference Room A. The CEO likes punctuality.'

I nodded, reviewing the briefing materials. The CEO's name wasn't listed—just referred to as E.M. throughout the documents. Probably some privacy protocol for the executives.

Ten minutes later, I strode into Conference Room A with the confidence that had become my armor. Six department heads were already seated around the table, coffee cups and tablets arranged before them. I chose an empty chair, nodding greetings as I settled in.

'Isabella Chen,' I introduced myself. 'New Marketing Director.'

The CFO extended his hand. 'Welcome aboard. We've heard great things about your work at—'

The door opened, and the room fell silent.

Time slowed as he walked in. Ethan Morrison—not just any executive, but the CEO—commanding the room with his presence. The same presence that had once made me feel safe, cherished, loved. Now it made the air vanish from my lungs.

He faltered for just a fraction of a second when our eyes met—so briefly I might have imagined it—before his expression solidified into professional indifference.

'Good morning,' he addressed the room, not me specifically. 'Let's begin.'

The meeting proceeded in a surreal blur. I spoke when necessary, presented my initial thoughts on their current campaigns, and somehow managed to appear composed while my internal world imploded. Ethan—my Ethan, who had vanished without a word four years ago—was now my boss.

The universe had a cruel sense of humor.

When the meeting concluded, I gathered my materials with steady hands, though my heart hammered violently against my ribs. Before I could escape, his voice cut through the departing chatter.

'Ms. Chen, a moment in my office, please.'

I followed him down the hallway, hyperaware of the distance he maintained between us. His office was minimalist, lacking any personal touches—no photos, no mementos, nothing that revealed the man behind the executive facade.

He closed the door and moved behind his desk, using it as a barrier between us.

'This is an unexpected situation,' he said, his voice clinically detached.

I raised my chin. 'Is it? You knew I was being hired.'

'Your resume came through HR. I didn't review it personally.' He straightened a pen on his desk. 'Given our... history, it might be best if you transfer to our Seattle division. Same position, same salary.'

Heat flared in my chest. 'You want me to uproot my life? Again?'

'To avoid complications,' he replied, still not meeting my eyes directly.

'No.' The word came out sharper than I intended. 'I earned this position, Ethan. I'm not going to be sidelined because you're uncomfortable.'

Finally, he looked at me—really looked at me—and for a moment, I glimpsed something beneath the corporate mask. Pain? Regret? Before I could identify it, it vanished.

'Then we keep this strictly professional,' he said. 'What happened before has no place here.'

'Agreed,' I replied, though the silver ring felt suddenly heavy on my finger. 'You made your choice four years ago. I've made mine now.'

As I turned to leave, his voice stopped me at the door.

'Isabella.'

I paused, not turning around, afraid of what I might see—or worse, what I wouldn't—in his eyes.

'Congratulations on the position. You've done well for yourself.'

I nodded once and left, closing the door quietly behind me. Only then did I allow myself a single deep, shuddering breath.

I had survived being abandoned by Ethan Morrison once. I could survive working for him now. What I couldn't survive was the nagging question that burned beneath my professional veneer: Why was there no trace of Victoria Sinclair, his supposed fiancée, anywhere in his office?