Esther
He didn't recognize me.
The flicker in his expression lasted less than a breath. Then his jaw set, and he turned away.
Just another face in a room full of them.
I stood there with my pulse hammering in my ears and watched him walk toward the elevator. His shoulders were straight. His stride didn't falter.
Not even a backward glance.
Of course he didn't know me. The last time Aaron Blackwood saw me, I was Stella — nineteen, wolfless, always two steps behind him. The Alpha's ward. A polite word for an orphan they let sleep in the servants' wing and eat at the family table only when guests weren't watching.
He was the Alpha's son. My adoptive brother in name, the boy I'd been stupid enough to fall in love with, and the reason I'd lost everything.
I was someone else now. The car accident that should have killed me woke my wolf instead, and the shift remade me. My body filled out, my scent changed, and even my face had sharpened into someone the old Stella would barely recognize.
He was looking at Esther Hale. And Esther Hale hadn't existed six years ago.
I must have been staring too long, because when Aaron glanced back, his brow creased. Not with recognition. With irritation.
"Miss Laurent's qualifications are also excellent," the supervisor said, stepping forward with Vivienne's portfolio. "Perhaps a trial period for both candidates —"
"Fine. Let them compete." Aaron didn't look at the portfolio. "Since Miss Hale isn't prepared for duties today, Laurent can take the first rotation."
Vivienne smoothed her blazer and fell into step beside him. At the elevator, she turned and caught my eye.
Her smile said everything.
I watched them step into the elevator together and told myself it didn't sting. My brain, unhelpfully, did not agree.
The supervisor assigned me to filing. I spent the next hour feeding documents into cabinets while my brain kept circling.
Nobody had told me. Not a single job listing, not one rumor from Rita's network, not a whisper from the Yards had mentioned that Aaron Blackwood was the CEO of Silvercrest Holdings.
I'd been too focused on the salary and the housing to dig any deeper.
The woman at the desk beside me sorted papers without a glance my way. She had no idea the filing temp next to her used to live in the Alpha's house.
I'd imagined this reunion a thousand times. In the early months, I used to lie awake scripting entire conversations. What I'd say, how I'd make him understand, how it would feel to have him look at me again.
Then the months turned into years, and I stopped rehearsing. Hoping hurt worse than forgetting.
Now I was standing in his building, sorting his files. And I had nothing. No script, no plan, no idea what to do.
The Aaron I remembered was loud. Reckless. He punched first and regretted it later.
He'd say things that cut and then spend hours making it right. Leaving food outside my door. Standing between me and whoever had made me flinch.
This Aaron was a stranger wearing a familiar face. Composed. Controlled.
An Alpha who ran a company and a pack with the same cold precision. The gap between us had always been wide. Now it was a canyon.
My pulse still hadn't settled from when he'd looked at me. My body, because apparently it enjoyed humiliating me, didn't care about canyons.
I was pressing a label onto a folder when the lobby doors swung open and every head in the room turned.
A woman walked in wearing a cream coat with a fur collar. Her heels clicked against the marble in sharp, measured beats. Two assistants trailed behind her, and the front desk staff straightened as she passed.
No one had ever told this woman no, and it showed in every step.
I knew her before I saw her face.
Celeste Whitmore.
My hands stopped. The folder slid from my grip and hit the desk.
I hadn't seen Celeste since I was nineteen and pregnant. I was going to tell Aaron that morning. I'd practiced the words, tested a hundred versions, and settled on simple: I'm carrying your child.
I never got to him.
She was waiting in the corridor outside his study.
"Stop."
There was no arguing with that voice. I stopped.
She pulled something from behind her back and tossed it at my feet.
The ocarina. I'd already given it to Aaron. How was it in Celeste's hands?
"A human," Celeste said, looking down at me, "daring to seduce the future Alpha with this."
She put her heel on the ocarina and pressed down.
"No —"
A clean, sharp crack. Then silence.
I dropped to my knees. "That's not — it was a gift. How do you —"
"A gift." Celeste laughed. "You really think cheap trinkets and your bastard will get you anywhere?"
Everything went cold.
She knew. About the baby. She knew.
"The bastard has to go." Celeste's voice went flat. "Grab her."
Two men stepped out from behind her. I twisted away and hit the wall with my back.
"You can't do this." My voice cracked. "Aaron wouldn't —"
"Who do you think sent me?"
Six words. That was all it took. The ground disappeared beneath my feet.
I looked at her hand. Her left hand, resting on her hip, angled so the light caught it.
Aaron's ring. I'd seen it once in his nightstand, waiting to be given to someone.
I'd hoped it would be me.
I stopped fighting.
"Esther?"
I jerked back to the present. A coworker was leaning toward me, one hand near my shoulder.
"You went white," she said. "Are you all right?"
"Fine." The word scraped out of my throat. "I'm fine."
I smoothed the wrinkled label with shaking fingers. Six years ago. Different girl, different life.
Celeste was crossing the lobby now, flanked by her assistants, heading for the executive elevator. She hadn't looked my way.
I turned my back and reached for the next stack of folders.
"You there."
My blood went cold.
"Stop."
Celeste's voice cut across the lobby. Her heels clicked closer. I gripped the edge of the desk and kept my face turned away.
"Turn around."
I turned. Slowly.
Celeste tilted her head. Her eyes traveled down my face, across my blouse, back up.
Something flickered behind them. Not recognition. Not yet.
"I've seen you somewhere," she said.