Chapter 2

He was back, sitting high above it all, holding my family's life in his hands, and somehow, he was my last lifeline.

The irony cut deep; the man I'd loved and then tried to erase was now my last hope.

"Lily, you... know him?" the senior asked tentatively.

I pulled my lips into a smile, one far more bitter than a cry. "Sort of... an old acquaintance."

Old acquaintance. Two simple words, masking seven years of hopeless love and three years of deliberate forgetting.

Back home, I stood in front of the mirror, practicing smiles and speeches until my cheeks ached.

I couldn't break down.

My father was in the hospital, my mother's eyes swollen from crying.

I was their only hope, even if it meant begging James, the man I once loved so deeply it hurt, the one whose every memory I had personally tossed into the trash.

The next day, I put on the most expensive, polished cream suit in my closet, applied meticulous makeup to hide my exhaustion and anxiety.

The woman in the mirror looked capable, calm, unbreakable.

But only I knew my palms were clammy with cold sweat, and my calves were trembling ever so slightly.

Summit Capital's office building stood at the heart of the CBD, a towering, cold monolith of glass and steel.

I checked in with the receptionist, who eyed me with a mix of curiosity and skepticism, then was led to a small meeting room to wait.

"Mr. Carter is still in a meeting. Please wait a moment," she said.

The wait stretched to two hours.

I knew exactly what this was. It was a power move.

He was reminding me of the chasm between us now, the difference between his world and mine.

Finally, the conference room door swung open.

A group of sharp-suited men escorted a single figure in.

At the front stood a man, tall and broad-shouldered, in a perfectly tailored black custom suit.

His features were still breathtakingly handsome, but the boyish brightness of his youth was gone, replaced by the cold, detached poise of someone who'd long held power.

It was James. Three years had changed him—more mature, more unapproachable, his gaze sweeping over me like a cold instrument, no hint of recognition or emotion.

My heart clenched tight, but I forced myself to stay calm.

I was Lily Warren from Warren Construction, here to beg for investment, not the little girl who'd pined for him.

"Good morning, Mr. Carter. I'm Lily Warren from Warren Construction." I stood up, keeping my voice as steady as possible, and handed over the proposal I'd carefully prepared.

James sat at the head of the long table, ignoring her outstretched hand.

He nodded at his assistant, who took the proposal and placed it in front of him.

He opened the file, eyes lowered, his fingers flipping through the pages at a brisk pace.

The conference room was so quiet that one could hear a pin drop; only the soft rustling of paper broke the silence.

I stood there like a prisoner awaiting a verdict, every second stretching into an eternity.

Finally, he closed the folder and looked up.

His eyes were sharp as ice, slicing right through me.

"Ms. Warren, as far as I'm concerned, this proposal is worthless," he said, his voice low and devoid of any emotion.

My face went ghostly pale.

Nails dug into my palms, the sharp pain keeping me from crumbling.

I started to say, "Mr. Carter, even though Warren Construction is facing some temporary difficulties, our foundation is solid, and our client network—"

James cut me off, a faint, mocking smirk tugging at his lips. "Client network? You mean the clients who've terminated their contracts and are suing you for breach?"

His words hit like a hammer, striking the raw wound of my family's crisis.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

"Outdated technology, chaotic management, crippling debt, broken credibility. Ms. Warren, tell me. Why would Summit Capital invest in a company with no future?" James listed, each word a blow to my heart.

His words were cold, brutal, and true, crushing my last shred of hope.

I could hear quiet snickers from the executives behind me, humiliation and despair flooding over me like a tide.

But I couldn't back down.

I said, my voice dry and hoarse, "Mr. Carter, please give us another chance. We'll agree to any terms."

"Any terms?" James raised an eyebrow in surprise, leaning back in his chair, watching me like a commodity up for sale.

"Ms. Warren, if you're here to beg, you should act like someone who's actually asking for help," he said.

He paused, his gaze lingering on her forced composure, then spoke slowly, each word deliberate and cruel, "Eight o'clock tonight. Grand Harmony Hotel, Room 8808. Come alone."

Silence fell over the room, thick and suffocating.

Everyone, even his assistant, looked like they couldn't believe what they'd just heard.

Then, all those ambiguous, mixed gazes locked onto me at once.

Shock, contempt, pity, some eager for the spectacle.

I stood there, feeling exposed, as if I'd been stripped bare and thrown under the spotlight, forced to endure everyone's silent judgment.

Blood rushed to my head, then drained away just as fast, leaving my hands and feet icy cold.

How dare he? How could he humiliate me like this because I'd once loved him, because I now needed his help?

Anger, shame, and a deep, overwhelming sorrow threatened to tear me apart.

I stared at him, searching for any hint of a joke, any flicker of mercy.

There was none, only cold, unwavering indifference.

He was waiting for my answer, waiting for me, the loser with nowhere to go, to beg.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and when I opened them, all emotion was gone—replaced by a numb, empty calm.

"Alright, I'll be there at eight," I said, my voice steady, almost eerie.

James hesitated for a split second, as if surprised by my compliance, but quickly regained his composure.

He stood, not sparing me another glance, and told his assistant, "See Ms. Warren out."

Then, with his team in tow, he left the conference room without looking back.

It was as if the man who'd made that humiliating demand wasn't him at all.

I straightened my stiff back, walking out of the meeting room under the assistant's complicated gaze, and then out of the Summit Capital building.

The sun was bright, glaring, but it brought no warmth.

All the strength had been drained from my body.

I leaned against the cold glass wall of the building to keep from falling.

James had won. He'd succeeded in dragging me into the mud, in stripping me of the last bit of dignity I had left.