The Return

I never thought I would see him again.

Not like this.

Not in Atlanta.

Not in this polished office building that I could barely afford to enter.

And certainly not as his employee.

When I first walked into the offices of Blackwood Global, my heart was racing so fast it felt like it would leap out of my chest. I had prepared my speech, repeating it over and over again in my mind, reminding myself to remain invisible, to simply do my job, and not make a scene. I had to survive; I had no other choice.

But the world has a way of laughing at the best-laid plans.

As I walked into the office on the twentieth floor, surrounded by glass walls, he was there.

Ethan Blackwood.

The man I had loved so much with my heart.

The man I had walked away from.

The man I had betrayed… or at least, he thought so.

And the man I was now working for.

He didn’t stand, didn’t smile, didn’t greet me. His eyes, sharp and piercing as a knife, cut straight through me. He was taller than I remembered, his suit tailored to perfection, his stance commanding. And yet, beneath the perfect facade, there was something I recognized—a glimmer of the boy I had once known, the one who had dreamed with me in a small apartment, who had kissed me in the rain without fear of tomorrow.

I swallowed hard, forcing my feet to carry me forward. My hand clenched tighter around the strap of my scuffed leather bag. “Good morning, Mr. Blackwood,” I said, my voice trembling slightly.

He didn’t answer. He just watched me, his dark eyes unreadable. I felt every word I had ever spoken to him, every promise I had ever made, every lie I had ever been forced to tell, all bearing down on me like a weight I couldn’t shake.

A chill opened up in my stomach. This was more than an office. This was more than a job. This was walking back into a past I had spent five years trying to bury.

“Ah, yes... I’m... your new analyst,” I added, my voice a little softer this time.

He looked at me at last, and his voice when he did was like a shiver running down my spine. “I know who you are.”

It was not a question, not even a threat. It was a simple statement, a cold and precise one, and it was heavy with implications.

The room seemed to shrink, and my lungs seemed to contract within my chest. I wanted to flee, to disappear as I had done once before, but I knew I couldn’t. I had nowhere to go, no one to turn to, no one to help me. And even if I did have those things, could I ever flee from him? Could I ever flee from the man I had loved so foolishly, so blindly, and so painfully?

“I...” I started to say, but he cut me off with a swift gesture of his hand.

“You’ll start your work tomorrow,” he said. “In the meantime, stay out of my way.”

Out of his way... those words cut deeper than any insult could have, and I knew I had expected this, had prepared myself for this, and yet... and yet…

It was a wall, and it was one I couldn’t climb, one which reminded me of the fact that the man I had once loved had become someone I didn’t even recognize.

“Yes, sir,” I whispered, nodding silently.

And then he went back to his computer, never even acknowledging my existence.

I struggled to swallow the lump in my throat and began to make my way towards the door, my hands shaking uncontrollably. I could feel my heart pounding away in my temples, all the memories of the past flashing before my eyes—the laughter, the dreams, the night which had promised forever… the night which had also promised my disappearance.

A life which had been sacrificed for him.

The thought came to me suddenly and with great impact. He had no idea, of course. Not yet, not even a notion of it. And yet here I was, standing in the lion’s den once again, under his control, under his observation, with the knowledge of something which could either kill him… or kill me.

I walked into the hall, trying to breathe regularly. I tried to recall why I had come here. Survival. That’s all that mattered. A job, a roof over my head, and a chance—maybe—to rebuild from the ruin of my life.

But my past had other plans.

A few hours later, I sat at a small desk in a corner of the office, blankly staring at spreadsheets beyond my comprehension. Every now and then, I saw him. Not paying attention to me all the time, but as soon as our eyes met, it was like a change in air pressure, like a heaviness in the air.

I hated that my heart ached at seeing him. I hated that my mind recalled all his words, all his touches, all our stolen moments together. But even though I was scared, I couldn’t help but look at him.

The phone on my table rang, loud and clear. I jumped at the sound, my hands shaking as I reached for it. Ethan’s assistant gave me a disapproving glare.

“Don’t answer that,” she mouthed at me.

But it kept ringing. I hesitated, then picked up the phone, my voice trembling. “Hello?”

A voice whispered on the other end of the line. Threatening.Dangerous. “We know you’re with him. Don’t get in our way.”

I stood frozen. My heart was racing. My blood was cold. They had found me. They had found me here.

And then it dawned on me. Ethan had heard it too.

Ethan stood up from his chair. Unfazed as ever. Yet the muscles around his jawline betrayed the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. The aura of protection I had imagined was real. He had always protected me. Even when I did not know it. Even when he believed I had betrayed him.

In that instant. At that moment. I knew two things. I was terrified... and safe.

For the first time since I had come back. I knew something. Something that I had hidden deep within my heart.

Despite the lies. Despite the misunderstandings. Despite the hatred that had grown between us... he still cared.

And as quickly as that, panic returned.

For if he knew the truth—that I hadn’t left him for money, that I had given my life for him—then what? Could he ever forgive me? Or would he destroy me as surely as he destroyed me before with his cold calculation?

I gulped hard, looking down at the phone in my hand, the weight of the secret I carried. All my instincts were telling me to run, to get out before it all came to a head—but I couldn’t. I couldn’t run from him anymore. Not from the man I loved.

And I knew, at a deep level, that he wouldn’t let me go anyway.

Not even if he didn’t know yet.