Return to the City

Ava’s Point of View

The city looked the same, yet it felt different. Or maybe I was the one who had changed.

As the car rolled to a stop in front of Phoenix Enterprises, I took a slow breath, steadying my pulse. The tinted windows shielded me from the outside world for now, but I knew what waited beyond them—curious eyes, murmured whispers, and cameras poised, ready to capture my return.

I lifted my chin. I had prepared for this. Five years away, and I was no longer the woman who had once let this city chew her up and spit her out.

I stepped out, the sharp click of my heels against the pavement cutting through the morning air. The weight of dozens of stares pressed against me, but I ignored them, adjusting the cuff of my blazer as if I didn’t notice.

People whispered as I walked past.

“Is that Ava Reynolds?”

“She’s back?”

“After five years?”

I didn’t stop. I didn’t acknowledge them. I moved forward, head high, my posture poised.

Inside, the familiar scent of polished wood and fresh espresso wrapped around me. The lobby was exactly as I had left it—modern, pristine, a place of power. And now, I was in control of it.

Cara, my assistant, was already waiting for me, her brown eyes sharp behind her glasses as she fell into step beside me.

“The board meeting is at noon.” She said briskly, flipping through her tablet. “The press is still asking for a statement regarding your return. Should I draft something?”

“No.” I smoothed a wrinkle in my dress. “Let them speculate.”

“They’re also wondering if—”

“If I’ve seen him?” I finished, my voice calm.

Cara pressed her lips together but nodded. I gave a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach my eyes. “Not yet.”

But I would. The thought settled uneasily in my stomach.

***

The invitation had arrived that morning, delivered in a sleek black envelope embossed with gold lettering. The Annual Commerce Gala. A prestigious gala, filled with the city’s elites, business moguls, and socialites, an event that gathered the city’s most powerful figures under one roof.

Normally, I would have ignored it. I had no interest in parading myself around for the press, and so, I hadn’t planned on attending. Until I saw his name on the guest list. Damian Cross. The name alone made my stomach tighten. The man I had once called my husband, and the man who had ruined me.

The moment I read it, the air in my office felt too thick, my pulse beating just a little too fast. My grip on the invitation had turned my knuckles white. Five years had passed, yet the memory of him still felt like a wound that refused to heal.

It shouldn’t have surprised me. Damian was everywhere in this city. He hadn’t disappeared like I had. He had thrived.

And now, for the first time in five years, we were about to be in the same room. I didn’t know how I felt about that. No—I did. I just didn’t want to admit it.

***

The gala was breathtaking, but I barely noticed the decor, the golden chandeliers casting soft light over the glittering crowd. All I could feel was the energy in the air—the quiet hum of whispers, the weight of old money and new ambitions.

I moved through the room, accepting polite smiles and offering carefully thought responses. My presence was a statement in itself. People watched me, some openly, others pretending not to.

“I heard she never wanted to return.”

“She’s glowing.”

“Do you think she’s seen him yet?”

“She’s dangerous.”

That last one made the corner of my mouth twitch as it wasn’t far off from reality. Their voices were hushed, but not enough. I ignored them as a waiter passed by, and I plucked a glass of champagne from his tray, letting the cool stem settle against my fingers. The bubbles fizzed against my lips as I took a small sip, the sharp taste calming me.

I wasn’t here for them. I wasn’t even here for me. I was here to show Damian Cross that I was no longer the woman he had walked away from.

“Miss Reynolds.” A smooth voice called. “You’re handling this well.”

I turned to find James Carter, a man I had known through business circles. His salt-and-pepper hair and charming smile made him look effortlessly powerful.

“Mr. Carter.” I greeted, my voice pleasant before letting out a soft laugh. “I wasn’t aware I needed to handle anything.”

“Oh, come on.” He said, swirling his own glass of champagne. “You and I both know you’re the highlight of the night.”

I tilted my head. “And here I thought people came for the free drinks.”

“Phoenix Enterprises is thriving under your leadership.” He remarked. “I imagine your return wasn’t an easy decision.”

I smiled, taking a sip of my champagne. “Some things are worth coming back for.”

He chuckled. “And some things are worth staying away from.”

My fingers tightened around my glass as I knew what he meant.

James glanced at me knowingly. “You haven’t seen him yet, have you?”

I refused to let my expression falter. “No.”

“But you will.”

I lifted my glass in a mock toast. “That’s life, isn’t it?”

He laughed again but didn’t push. Instead, he gave me a small nod before slipping away into the crowd. I sighed, rolling my shoulders back. James was right. I will see Damian tonight. With a sigh, I chugged the entire glass.

Suddenly, the air became quiet, and I felt it even before I saw him. My fingers curled around my now empty champagne glass, the cold pressing into my skin. Slowly, almost unwillingly, I turned, and there he was.

Damian Cross.

The sight of him stole the air from my lungs. He hadn’t changed. If anything, he had only become more dangerously handsome. His dark hair, slightly tousled yet effortlessly styled, framed sharp cheekbones and a jawline that had once traced a path along my skin. His tuxedo fit him too well.

But it wasn’t just his looks that caught my breath, it was those dark intense eyes of his as well. I placed the glass on a passing tray before chanting to myself to breathe as I watched Damian move through the crowd.

The crowd seemed to part around him, as if they felt his presence the way I did. Our eyes locked, and for the first time in five years, I had no escape. My pulse pounded. My hands clenched at my sides.

Five years.

Five years since I had walked away. Five years since I had sworn I would never let him have power over me again, and yet, as he took one step closer, his gaze never leaving mine, I wondered if I was about to fall into that storm again.