Marks of the past almost perfect revenge

“If forgiveness can only be earned by forgiving, then I will be a condemned man.”

Standing before the enormous window of the presidential suite at the Palace Hotel, Carlos Hernandes watched the cars arrive one after another at the event entrance.

Down below, camera flashes lit up the hotel façade while businessmen, politicians, and investors crossed the red carpet beneath the light rain that had just begun to fall.

The reflection of the city shimmered against the glass in front of him. Ten years had passed, yet to Carlos it felt like another lifetime.

Behind him, Marcos remained silent, leaning near the door. The heavy atmosphere inside the suite unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

Carlos slowly adjusted the watch on his wrist before letting out a quiet laugh.

“Funny how things work…”

His voice was calm.

“Ten years ago, I wouldn’t have been able to enter this hotel, not even through the back door.”

Marcos rubbed the back of his neck, already knowing where the conversation was heading.

“You can still walk away from this.”

Carlos slowly raised an eyebrow, as though he had just heard something absurd.

“Walk away?”

Then he let out another low laugh. One completely devoid of humor.

“Walk away?”

Finally, he turned around.

His dark eyes met Marcos’s, and for a moment, he seemed like a different person entirely.

“While all of them moved on with their lives… I had to survive the ruins of mine… so don’t talk to me about walking away.”

Marcos looked away, unsure of what to say.

That was exactly what worried him.

Carlos no longer looked like a man seeking justice.

He looked like someone waiting for the perfect chance to destroy another person.

A phone vibrated on the glass table, breaking the silence inside the suite.

Marcos quickly picked it up and read the message without saying a word. His expression changed almost instantly, and the hesitation before speaking was enough to catch Carlos’s attention.

“She’s here.”

Carlos held out his hand.

The moment the photo appeared on the phone screen, his fingers tightened around the device. His jaw clenched slightly.

“Ana Miller…”

He spoke her name quietly, carrying a coldness sharp enough to send immediate discomfort crawling down Marcos’s spine.

Carlos handed the phone back and calmly adjusted his suit jacket, smoothing the dark fabric as though preparing for nothing more than another ordinary meeting. But the faint smile that followed was enough to unsettle Marcos even further.

“Let’s go downstairs. After all… tonight was made for her.”

Returning to that country was the last thing Ana wanted to do.

And yet, there she was, sitting in the backseat of the car while she watched the city lights blur across the rain-streaked window. Everything felt far too familiar. The streets, the buildings, the dark sky before the storm.

Ana discreetly rubbed her cold fingers together and shifted her gaze to her reflection in the glass.

Ten years.

And somehow, it still felt like yesterday.

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to shake away the uneasy feeling that had followed her ever since the plane landed. Maybe it was only nerves. Or maybe some memories never truly disappear.

Her phone vibrated in her lap.

She sighed when she saw the message from her father.

“You need to attend the event tonight.”

Ana let her head fall back against the seat for a second. Even sick, John Miller couldn’t forget about business.

She typed quickly:

“Dad, I just arrived.”

The reply came almost immediately.

“Carlos Hernandes will be there.”

Ana exhaled tiredly. Over the past few months, that name seemed to haunt her.

Carlos Hernandes.

The businessman who had transformed a small hotel chain into a multimillion-dollar empire in less than ten years. The man everyone wanted close to them. Including her father.

Ever since the Miller hotels began facing financial trouble, John had become obsessed with the idea of securing an investment from him.

Another message appeared on the screen.

“You need to catch his attention.”

Ana let out a small disbelieving laugh.

As if catching the attention of someone like Carlos Hernandes were that simple.

She slipped the phone into her purse and turned back toward the window. The rain grew heavier outside, and droplets slid down the glass, distorting the city lights.

That was when the pain came.

A sharp ache pierced through her head so suddenly that Ana shut her eyes immediately. Her body stiffened against the seat as flashes exploded inside her mind.

Bright headlights.

Rain.

Glass shattering.

And then the voice.

“Ana… I’m sorry…”

Her breathing faltered.

She opened her eyes abruptly and pressed a hand against her forehead while trying to catch her breath.

“Damn it. Again.” Her voice came out exhausted.

“Miss, we’ve arrived.”

The driver’s voice pulled her back to reality.

It took her a few seconds before answering.

“Thank you.”

The moment she stepped out of the car, Ana lifted her eyes toward the Palace Hotel and instantly felt her discomfort deepen.

The building looked even larger in person. Luxurious, imposing, and cold. The kind of place filled with important people—and somewhere she clearly did not want to be.

As soon as she entered the main ballroom, she felt her shoulders tense.

Waiters moved among businessmen carrying trays of champagne.

Camera flashes illuminated the room every few seconds, and Ana immediately noticed discreet glances turning toward her.

She looked away, pretending to search for someone familiar.

She hated environments like that.

She picked up a glass simply to occupy her restless hands and slowly walked across the ballroom until she heard someone nearby comment:

“Carlos Hernandes just arrived.”

Ana automatically looked toward the main entrance.

And then she saw him.

Tall, elegant, and composed, Carlos crossed the ballroom surrounded by the business elite as though he fully expected every eye in the room to be on him. There was something cold in the way he moved. Too confident. Too controlled.

People naturally stepped aside as he passed.

Ana realized too late that she had been staring at him.

Then his eyes met hers.

And stayed there.

Her stomach tightened for no reason as Carlos continued looking directly at her, walking through the crowd without the slightest trace of hurry.

As if he already knew her.

Ana’s heartbeat quickened.

She had never seen that man before, so why did that strange feeling refuse to leave?

She quickly looked away, irritated with herself. Ridiculous. It was just nerves.

When she looked back again, Carlos was already closer.

Much closer.

Instinctively, she straightened her posture, trying to hide the growing discomfort as he approached her.

His woody cologne reached her before his voice did, and Ana realized far too late that she had been holding her breath.

Carlos stopped in front of her, close enough to make her want to step back even without understanding why.

His dark eyes slowly traced her face before meeting hers once again.

Then he smiled.

And somehow, that only made her even more nervous.

“Miss Miller…”

The way he pronounced her last name sent a slow shiver crawling down her spine.

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you…”