Chapter 6

Daphne

The air in the office was colder than I expected.

Not just from the hum of the air conditioner, but from the weight of the man standing behind the desk.

Zachary Moreau.

He hadn’t changed much. Maybe a little older, his jaw a bit sharper, his confidence even more defined. He wore a charcoal suit that probably cost more than my entire month’s rent, and yet it wasn’t the clothes that made him intimidating. It was the stillness. The kind that said he was used to being in control of everything around him.

I tried to speak, but my throat felt dry.

Ethan gave me a small smile before quietly slipping out of the room, leaving the two of us alone. The soft click of the door shutting behind him echoed louder than it should have.

Zachary didn’t move at first. He just stood there, looking at me.

And I could feel it — that recognition flickering in his eyes. It wasn’t confusion or curiosity. It was memory.

He knew.

He remembered.

My pulse thundered in my ears as I gripped my résumé tighter, the paper slightly crumpling under my fingers. I could barely keep my hands from trembling.

“Sit,” he said finally. His voice was calm, smooth, steady, like the years hadn’t touched it at all.

I forced myself into the chair opposite his desk, trying to look composed even as my stomach twisted.

He sat too, every movement controlled, deliberate. His eyes never left me.

I placed the résumé on the desk and slid it toward him. My name was printed clearly at the top — Daphne Clarke — and watching his gaze flick down to it made my breath catch.

For a split second, something in his expression changed. A flicker of something sharp, like surprise carefully buried under layers of restraint.

Then, nothing. His features smoothed again, unreadable.

He leaned back in his chair. “You’re applying for the assistant position.”

I nodded. “Yes, sir.” My voice came out smaller than I wanted it to.

He studied me, his fingers brushing absently against the paper before him. “You’ve worked before?”

“Yes. At a bakery for almost three years.”

His brow lifted slightly. “And why did you leave?”

“It burned down,” I said quietly.

He didn’t respond right away. Just kept his eyes on me, like he was reading more than the words I said.

“I see,” he murmured.

The silence stretched again. I could hear the faint hum of the city outside, cars far below, the ticking of a clock somewhere in the room.

He picked up my résumé, glanced through it, then set it down again. “You don’t have much corporate experience.”

“I can learn,” I said quickly. “I work hard. I don’t give up easily.”

That part was true. I’d had to grow that kind of determination.

His lips twitched, just barely. “I can tell.”

The way he said it made something in my chest tighten.

He was still looking at me, but not like an employer sizing up an applicant. It was deeper, heavier. Like he was searching for pieces of a memory, trying to see if they still fit.

My palms felt damp. “If this is a problem, I understand. I can—”

“It’s not,” he said, cutting me off softly. “You’re… interesting.”

That word made my stomach flip.

He turned slightly in his chair, glancing out the window, his expression calm again. “Why do you want this job, Miss Clarke?”

Because I’m running out of time. Because I have a little boy waiting at home who depends on me. Because I can’t fail again.

But I couldn’t say any of that.

“I just need a chance,” I said instead.

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then he nodded once. “All right.”

I blinked. “All right?”

“You’ll start tomorrow. My assistant will handle the paperwork. The position is yours if you want it.”

It took a second for his words to sink in. “You’re hiring me?”

His gaze met mine again, steady and unreadable. “Yes.”

I didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified.

I nodded, forcing a polite smile. “Thank you, Mr. Moreau.”

He didn’t reply. He just leaned back, watching me like he was still trying to figure something out.

“Ethan will show you out,” he said after a pause.

I stood, smoothing my skirt and picking up my bag. My legs felt weak, but I managed to hold my head high as I turned to leave.

My hand was on the doorknob when he spoke again.

“Miss Clarke.”

I froze.

When I looked back, his eyes were still on me, calm but searching.

“Welcome to Moreau Enterprises.”

There was something in the way he said it. Something that made my chest ache. Like a beginning that was also a warning.

I smiled faintly, though my heart was pounding. “Thank you, sir.”

Then I stepped out of the office, trying not to let my shaking hands show.

As soon as the door closed behind me, I finally let out the breath I’d been holding.

Zachary Moreau had recognized me. I could feel it in every look, every pause.

But he said nothing.

And that terrified me more than anything.