Chapter 1. Return of the king

8:17 a.m. — Sinclair Empire Headquarters, Manhattan 

Ace Rotherwell faced the floor-to-ceiling mirror in his corner office on the 82nd floor, with the city extending behind him like a quiet army under his control. He wasn’t appreciating his own appearance Ace avoided vanity. He performed accuracy. 

Tom Ford suit in black tailored style. Navy silk tie tied with flawless military precision. Jawline sharp enough to slice through glass. Expression? Empty as a signed NDA. 

He viewed his wristwatch. The town meeting began in 13 minutes. Sufficient time to get ready for the corporate spectacle... and for the specter from his history. 

Noah Sinclair had returned. 

And not merely "returned to town" returned to his firm, returned to his office, returned to his existence. 

Ace's fingers tensed on the armrest of his seat. Two weeks prior, he had noticed the headlines: "Runaway Heir Comes Back to Sinclair Studios." "Is the Empire on the Verge of Reawakening?" 

Public relations maneuvering. Sound. However, the reality? It was more severe. 

Noah wasn’t merely coming back to jointly lead the empire. 

He was coming back after vanishing after breaking Ace’s heart into something unrecognizable and leaving as if it were merely a dramatic season finale. 

Afterall, resembling a cocky phoenix in expensive boots, Noah had returned. 

8:30 a.m. — Town Hall Theater at Sinclair Studios 

The stage lights hurt Ace’s eyes as he approached the podium, surrounded by digital screens displaying ambiguous buzzwords such as Vision, Synergy, and Dominance. 

Ace breathed out gently. 

"Good morning," he spoke into the microphone, his tone icy and pure like a frozen river. “Greetings to this quarter’s Town Hall.” "I'll keep it short since many of you are here just for the free coffee or to watch who gets let go today." 

Apprehensive chuckles spread throughout the auditorium. 

Ace's grin didn't illuminate his eyes. “Let’s dive in.” 

He hardly paid attention to the audience following that. Just one individual was significant.

One person whose presence sucked all the oxygen from the area. 

Noah's Sinclair. 

Popped against the wall as if he hadn't moved an inch, Noah looked madly composed in a deep burgundy velvet jacket combined with a black turtleneck, his tousled golden locks implying he had just rolled out of a plush bed probably with another occupant. 

The crowd was uncertain whether to stare or whisper. 

Ace stayed unfazed. 

“Today,” he said, adjusting the mic, “I’m so pleased to reintroduce someone who needs no more introduction to y'all. The board and I agree that to progress this company, we must recognize its past. 

He shifted to the side. “Ladies, gentlemen, interns with TikTok accounts… Noah Sinclair.” 

Noah stepped onto the stage as though he were auditioning at Madison Square Garden, each move filled with intentional charm. He made a gesture. He fluttered his brows. In a certain location, an individual genuinely lost consciousness. 

“Hi, family,” he whispered into the mic. “Are you thinking of me?” 

The crowds were erupted in applause. 

Ace stayed quiet. His heartbeat, however, played a solo on the drums.

8:48 a.m. — Corridor Behind the Stage 

“You never evolve,” Ace remarked as soon as they were by themselves, hope this is his tone sharp. 

Noah smiled, brushing his fingers through his hair. “Kindly.” “I improved.” 

“I was referring to your ego.” 

"Identical matter." 

Ace moved closer, almost able to take in the scent of Noah’s cologne sandalwood, bergamot, and chaos. 

"Do you realize what today truly is, Noah?" “Control of damage.” 

Noah inclined his head. "Who is responsible for the damage?" Me? "Or you?" 

Ace tightened his jaw. "You departed without saying anything." In the midst of a crisis. After we” 

“Once you mentioned that the company was the priority." "Once you substituted me with a robotic assistant and acted as if I was never there." Noah's grin faded. “Let’s not change the narrative, Your Highness.” 

Ace remained silent. They all remained in agenda.

but two men in expensive suits, feigning that their lives weren’t still caught in unresolved strain and unreturned messages were there.

9:15 a.m. — Office of Ace 

The silence was dense enough to bite. 

Ace gazed through the glass wall, observing the clouds float by the skyline. Noah collapsed onto the couch behind him as if he were the owner. Which, in a technical sense, he accomplished at least 47% of it. 

“Noah grumbled while sipping his coffee, “I still dislike how beige this office is.” "Without art, there's no personality." "Only spreadsheets and suppressed emotions." 

"Not everyone designs their spaces to resemble a Milan fashion photoshoot." 

"That's due to the fact that not everyone has lost their inner spirit." 

Ace rotated gradually. “Why are you present?” 

Noah gazed at him—truly gazed. For a moment, the sarcasm faded. 

“I longed for you.” 

Ace felt a little tight knot in his stomach. 

Moreover,Noah rose to his feet. "I longed for this." The disorder. The sleepless evenings. The debate over whether I am allowed to expense sparkling water. 

"That’s not water; it’s liquid privilege." 

“It has an incredible flavor.” 

Now, they stood face to face. Noah’s grin faded. “I also longed for the man who used to gaze at me as if” the problem has been solved

Ace gulped, feeling the tightness in his throat. “That man was laid to rest after you departed.” 

“I’m unearthing him.” 

Sure! Please can u help me provide the text you'd like me to paraphrase. 

9:40 a.m. — Lift Lobby 

The elevator chimed. The gates swung ajar. Noah entered, then pivoted, grasping Ace’s wrist just before he could leave. 

“Please don’t let me regret this opportunity,” he said softly. 

Ace maintained his stare, looking for a falsehood. 

There was not a single one. 

"Not making any commitments," Ace responded. “Yet, I don’t wish to lose you once more.” 

The elevator doors closed off the space between them. 

For the first time in months, Ace breathed out—and grinned. 

A tempest was approaching. 

Yet perhaps, just perhaps... this time they would twirl in the downpour.