The Burden of the Past

Jeffery’s POV

I sat in my office high above the city, looking at the cityscape below me. The skyline was a golden sheen of sunset colors, but I barely noticed them. My mind was stuck in the past, in an instant that had haunted me for years—a moment that had marched right back into my life today.

Cassie Jones.

I haven't said that name in nearly a decade, but hearing it had struck me like a blow. I could still picture her—young, wide-eyed, full of hope and faith before I had shattered everything. That night at the spring had been a precious secret once. Now it was nothing but a reminder of the errors that defined him.

My fingers curled into a fist.

I haven't been that dumb kid in a long, long time. I had built an empire, fostered power, and learned to spin every tale in my life. But when Cassie had walked into that conference room today, all my carefully constructed walls had crumbled.

Her expression had been vacant, her posture straight and professional. The blushing female who had responded to my contact was now a female who looked at me with the same look she would have given me had I been a business transaction.

I exhaled sharply, rubbing my temples.

I had hoped that time would soften the regret and smooth the memory of my worst mistake. Instead, it had been seared into eternity.

I have to let it be.

Cassie definitely did.

But the moment I tried, my mind returned to how she had looked at me today—distant, uninterested. As if I were nothing more than another client.

And that should not have irritated me.

But it did.

My phone rang, snapping me out of my daydream.

"Mr. Richards?" My assistant's voice over the intercom. "Miss Carter is coming to your office for the follow-up meeting on the PR strategy."

I stood up, taming my face into its usual unyielding mask. "Let her in."

This time, I would be ready.

***

Cassie’s POV

I walked into Jeffery's office with the same confidence that I'd used during the meeting earlier. I'd been hyping myself up for this for the past hour, telling myself that this was just another job, another client, nothing else.

The office was modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a slice of the city skyline. It exuded power, wealth, and control—things Jeffery had sought after since high school.

He stood behind his desk, hands tucked in his suit pockets. He looked as pristine as always, but Cassie knew better. She saw the flicker of something—something uncontrolled-before he masked it.  

"Miss Jones," he replied smoothly. "What do I owe the pleasure of this call?"  

I set my folder on his desk and looked at him head-on. "I have come to talk about the PR plan in detail. The plan must be polished before it is executed."  

"Oh, sure," he said, getting up and walking around the desk to lean against the side of it. "But let's be realistic—this isn't all business, is it?"  

I bristled. "It is for me." Jeffrey cocked his head to the side, watching her. "You're a pro at this. The whole professionalism thing."  

"It's not a show," I replied brusquely. "I'm here to get my work done. I'd be happy to answer any questions about the strategy. Otherwise, I have other clients to attend to." His mouth curled into a form that was near a smirk. 

"Other clients, then? So I'm just another name on your list?"  

My fingers clenched on the folder, but I would not let him rile me. "That's how business is done, Mr. Richards. Now, shall we proceed?" His eyes turned milky. 

"Do you ever think about it?" I tripped for a half second—long enough for Jeffrey to realize. 

"What to think about?" I inquired, attempting to calm my voice. 

 "That night," he said to me, his voice softer now, nearly defensive. "The spring. The things we said."  

One of my jaw muscles jerked. "No."  

It was a lie, and they both knew that.

Jeffery wheeled back from the desk, closing the space between them. "I do." 

My breath caught, but I was not going to let that happen. 

"I don't care what you think about." 

His eyes raked through mine, as if trying to find the girl he had known behind the cold professionalism that now served as a barrier. 

"I was a stupid kid, Cassie," he admitted. "I didn't know what I had—what I lost." I smiled, but it was not a smiling smile. 

"That's a convenient excuse." 

"It's not an excuse. It's the truth." 

I shook my head. "The truth is, you made a choice. You played a game, and I was the pawn. I don't need any more of your explanations, and I damn well don't need your regret." 

For a moment, there was silence between us, thick and immovable. Then Jeffery sighed. 

"You still hate me." I looked at him—really looked at him—and for the first time, I was able to look beyond the arrogance and the charm. I was able to see the weight of his own guilt, the way it still followed him around. However, it was only a glimpse I thought I saw before it was masked away.

I had been carrying my pain around for years. He may have been too, or not at all. "I don't hate you," I said at last, my voice more softened. 

"I just don't care anymore." 

Another lie.

Jeffery could see right through it. "You sure?" he asked softly. 

I turned to flee, reaching for my folder by the door. It told him everything. "Cassie." I stopped but did look back. "Let me show you how much I've changed."

A frown of distaste twisted my lips as I turned my back on him. "Men like you never change, Jeffery." And with that, I turned on my heel and left him alone with his past.

However, as the door closed behind me, no matter how hard I tried to tell myself otherwise, some wounds would never heal.