Chapter 4 — The Man Behind the Name

Chapter 4 — The Man Behind the Name

Miyaka spent the next three days pretending she had forgotten about the meeting.

She hadn't.

Every time she caught herself thinking about it, she found something else to do. She went riding in the early morning, stayed longer than necessary at the garage, accepted an invitation to practice at the track, and even reorganized the small storage room in her house, which was something she had avoided for months because she hated organizing anything that didn't involve an engine.

None of it worked.

The thought remained.

Laurent Industries.

Moises Laurent.

She kept telling herself that the meeting had nothing to do with him. The Reyes family's business dealings were separate from whatever had happened between two children years ago. If she was going there, she was going as an adult representing her family, not as the little girl who had once sat beneath a mango tree and waited for a boy to come home.

That distinction mattered.

At least, she wanted it to.

On the morning of the meeting, Miyaka stood in front of her bedroom mirror and stared at the woman looking back at her.

She wore a simple black blazer over a white blouse, paired with dark trousers and boots. Her hair was tied back loosely, and the only jewelry she wore was a thin silver bracelet she had owned for years.

She looked professional.

Calm.

Composed.

Nothing about her appearance suggested that she had spent half the night remembering a boy's voice.

She picked up her phone.

A message from Jason was waiting.

Jason: Don't do anything stupid.

Miyaka smiled despite herself.

Miyaka: Define stupid.

His response came immediately.

Jason: Anything involving Moises.

She stared at the message.

Then she locked her phone.

“I'm not going there for him,” she whispered.

And this time, she almost believed it.

---

Laurent Industries was impossible to miss.

The building rose above the surrounding city like a monument to wealth and ambition, all glass, steel, and sharp modern lines. Employees moved through the entrance with the quiet efficiency of people who knew they were working somewhere important.

Miyaka stepped out of the car and looked up.

She had never been impressed by expensive buildings.

Money had never been particularly interesting to her.

Still, something about the place made her uncomfortable.

Maybe it was because his name was everywhere.

LAURENT INDUSTRIES.

It appeared on the building, the security desk, the documents waiting inside.

Moises's name was no longer attached to a childhood memory.

It belonged to an empire.

A receptionist greeted her politely.

“Ms. Reyes?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Laurent is expecting you.”

Her heart gave an annoying little jump.

Of course he was.

She followed the receptionist toward the private elevators.

Every step made her more aware of the fact that she was walking toward him.

She hated that.

She hated even more that part of her wanted to run.

The elevator doors opened.

Miyaka stepped inside.

The doors closed.

For the first time that morning, she allowed herself to breathe.

Then the elevator began moving upward.

Floor after floor.

The higher she went, the more ridiculous the situation felt.

She was an adult.

She wasn't eight years old.

She wasn't waiting beneath a tree.

She wasn't standing in the rain wondering whether someone would return.

She was Miyaka Reyes.

She had survived without him.

She could certainly survive one meeting.

The elevator stopped.

The doors opened.

A secretary stood outside.

“Mr. Laurent is waiting for you.”

Miyaka nodded.

“Thank you.”

She walked toward the office.

The secretary opened the door.

And everything inside her went still.

Moises stood near the window with his back toward her.

For one terrible second, she didn't see the billionaire CEO.

She saw a boy.

A quiet boy standing beneath a mango tree.

A boy who had once promised to catch her if she fell.

A boy who had promised to come back.

Then he turned.

The memory shattered.

The man standing before her was nothing like the boy she remembered.

He was taller, broader, dressed in an impeccably tailored dark suit. His hair was neatly styled, his expression controlled, and his eyes were colder than she remembered.

But they were his eyes.

There was no mistaking them.

Miyaka's breath caught.

Moises looked at her.

And for the smallest fraction of a second, something broke through his carefully controlled expression.

Recognition.

Pain.

Something else she couldn't identify.

Then it disappeared.

His face became unreadable.

“Ms. Reyes.”

Her stomach twisted.

Not Miyaka.

Not even a hint of warmth.

Just—

“Ms. Reyes.”

She stared at him.

“You're Moises Laurent.”

“Yes.”

The answer was calm.

Professional.

Distant.

Something inside her cracked.

She gave a small laugh.

“You don't remember me?”

Silence.

Moises looked directly into her eyes.

“No.”

The word was quiet.

But it hurt more than she expected.

Miyaka's fingers curled against her palm.

She searched his face, looking for some indication that he was lying.

There was nothing.

Only that cold, unfamiliar expression.

She forced herself to smile.

“Right.”

Moises gestured toward the chair.

“Please sit.”

She didn't move.

For several seconds, they simply stared at each other.

Then Miyaka slowly walked to the chair and sat.

Moises returned to his desk.

Neither spoke.

A strange tension filled the room.

Miyaka studied him.

His hands were steady as he opened the business proposal.

Not once did he look nervous.

Not once did he appear affected.

It was almost impressive.

Almost.

“So,” she said, breaking the silence, “we're really going to pretend?”

Moises's eyes lifted.

“Pretend what?”

“That we've never met.”

His expression remained unchanged.

“I don't understand the question.”

She laughed again, but this time there was anger underneath it.

“You don't understand?”

“No.”

Miyaka leaned back.

“You used to hate thunderstorms.”

His hand stopped moving.

Only for a second.

“You used to hide beneath the table whenever lightning struck because you thought the house would explode.”

Moises said nothing.

“You hated carrots.”

Silence.

“You always gave yours to Jason.”

His jaw tightened.

Miyaka noticed.

Her heart began beating faster.

“You had a scar on your left knee because you fell out of the mango tree trying to impress me.”

Moises finally looked up.

His eyes met hers.

For one moment, neither of them moved.

Then he said,

“I think you're confusing me with someone else.”

Miyaka stared at him.

The words were ridiculous.

Impossible.

And yet he had said them with such certainty that she almost hated herself for questioning reality.

She stood.

“Fine.”

Moises watched her.

“If you don't remember me, then you don't.”

She picked up her bag.

“But I remember you.”

Something flickered in his eyes.

She walked toward the door.

Her hand had just reached the handle when his voice stopped her.

“Miyaka.”

She froze.

Slowly, she turned around.

Moises looked as though he regretted saying her name.

Neither of them spoke.

Then his expression hardened again.

“Your proposal,” he said. “Leave it with my secretary.”

Miyaka stared at him.

There it was.

Her name.

He remembered.

He knew.

She smiled sadly.

“You're a terrible liar, Moises.”

Then she walked out.

The door closed behind her.

Moises remained perfectly still.

Only when he was certain she was gone did he release the breath he had been holding.

His eyes closed.

For years, he had imagined seeing her again.

He had imagined her older.

Different.

Perhaps married.

Perhaps happy.

He had prepared himself for anger.

For hatred.

For indifference.

He had prepared himself for almost everything.

Except the way she had looked at him.

As if she had spent years carrying the same unanswered question.

Why did you leave me?

Moises walked toward the window.

His reflection stared back at him.

Cold.

Controlled.

Untouchable.

The man everyone believed him to be.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the old photograph.

Miyaka was laughing in it.

He stared at her face.

“I remember everything,” he whispered.

His fingers tightened around the photograph.

“That's the problem.”

Outside the office, Miyaka walked quickly toward the elevator.

She refused to cry.

She refused to let him see that he had hurt her.

But when the elevator doors closed, she finally leaned against the wall and shut her eyes.

He remembered her.

She knew he did.

She had seen it.

And that meant his lie wasn't about forgetting.

It was about hiding something.

The elevator began descending.

Miyaka opened her eyes.

For the first time since Moises had returned, she wasn't simply wondering why he had left.

She was beginning to wonder what he was afraid of.