1 : The Homecoming

Elise’s POV

Oh, dear.

I took a deep breath as I stepped out of my Rolls-Royce La Rose, my heels clicking against the marble driveway. Before me stood the magnificent mansion I had missed for years.

Oh, it felt so good to be back!

The familiar sight of the grand estate nearly brought tears to my eyes. The perfectly trimmed hedges, the towering fountains, the sprawling gardens, and the massive wooden doors bearing an extravagantly carved letter R in the center. Everything looked exactly as I remembered it.

Well, except for the fact that I had been gone long enough to forget how much I loved my own bed.

I adjusted my designer handbag, smoothed the wrinkles of my dress, and marched toward the entrance with all the grace and dignity expected of a woman of my stature.

I had barely touched the doorknob when—

BOOM!

Confetti exploded into the air.

“SURPRISE!”

I nearly jumped out of my skin.

A deafening chorus of cheers erupted from inside, accompanied by applause, laughter, and enough confetti to bury a small country. A sea of unfamiliar faces stared back at me, all wearing their widest smiles and clapping as though I had just won a presidential election.

My hand flew to my mouth.

“Oh, my goodness!”

At the center of the crowd stood my parents, looking far too pleased with themselves. Beside them were our ever-loyal bodyguards, who, for reasons beyond my understanding, were holding a ridiculously enormous banner.

WELCOME HOME, AURORA ANNALIESE!

My full name?

Really?

I narrowed my eyes at the banner before bursting into laughter. “You have got to be kidding me!”

My father approached first, his arms opening wide. I rushed into his embrace, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne.

“Hello, dear,” he murmured, kissing my forehead.

“I missed you, Daddy!” I hugged him tighter. “You have absolutely no idea how much.”

“Oh, I believe I do. Your mother has been counting the days since you left. I was beginning to think she would personally charter a plane to drag you home.”

“Dad!”

“What? It’s true.”

I pulled away, laughing, just in time for my mother to steal me from his arms.

“Welcome home, darling!”

She kissed both my cheeks, holding my face as though she needed to make sure I was real.

“Look at you!” she exclaimed. “You’ve grown even more beautiful.”

“Mom, I was gone for college, not sent to another planet.”

“Same difference.”

I laughed and hugged her again.

For a moment, surrounded by their warmth, the years away seemed to disappear. I was home. No assignments, no sleepless nights, no pretending that instant noodles counted as a proper dinner.

And certainly no more time zones to ruin my beauty sleep.

Life was wonderful.

Almost perfect, actually.

Because while everyone was busy celebrating my return, my eyes were searching for one person.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Irritatingly handsome.

A man with a face that could make a room fall silent and a personality that could make an entire department resign.

Reou Alexander Moretti.

Where was he?

I scanned the crowd casually, turning my head as though admiring the decorations. A group of businessmen stood near the grand staircase, discussing something about a multimillion-peso development project. Several engineers were gathered by the bar, while familiar faces from the corporate world mingled with people I could only assume were important enough to receive a personal invitation.

No Reou.

I glanced toward the balcony.

Nothing.

The dining hall?

Nothing.

Perhaps he was late.

Perhaps he was on his way.

Perhaps he had been kidnapped by his board of directors and needed a rescue mission.

I was already considering the last possibility when a familiar voice interrupted my thoughts.

“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged home.”

I closed my eyes.

Not this one.

“Elise Rockwell’s favorite little princess has finally returned.”

I turned slowly.

Rylee Moretti.

If charm had a face and shamelessness had a body, they would probably share his passport photo.

Reou’s stepbrother stood before me in a perfectly tailored suit, his dark hair styled to effortless perfection. He wore that familiar crooked smile—the one he had been using on women since the age when he probably should have been learning multiplication tables.

“Rylee,” I greeted sweetly.

“Just Rylee? Not even a hug? I’m wounded.”

He pressed a hand dramatically against his chest.

“Should I call a doctor?”

“Only if you’re offering to be my personal physician.”

“Absolutely not. I have a degree to protect.”

“That’s unfortunate. I was hoping you’d finally find a useful occupation.”

He burst out laughing, apparently delighted by my insult.

Oh, Rylee. Some things never changed.

He had been flirting with me for as long as I could remember. Back when we were younger, he would find every excuse to sit beside me during family gatherings, steal sweets from my plate, and insist that I was destined to become his wife.

Naturally, I had threatened to throw him into the swimming pool.

Twice.

He had taken it as encouragement.

“So,” he drawled, leaning a little closer, “how does it feel to be back, sweetheart?”

“Expensive.”

He blinked. “What?”

“The flight. The luggage. The shopping. Have you seen the current exchange rate?”

He burst out laughing.

“God, I’ve missed you.”

“That’s a personal problem.”

“And you haven’t changed a bit.” His eyes swept over me, lingering just long enough to make me raise an eyebrow. “Still beautiful. Still terrifying. Still the woman of my dreams.”

“Have you considered therapy?”

“Would you accompany me?”

“Would you pay for it?”

“Anything for you.”

“Then I recommend a lifetime package.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You know, most women would be flattered.”

“Most women aren’t me.”

“Unfortunately.”

I smiled and patted his cheek.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have people to greet.”

“Looking for someone?”

The question came too quickly.

I froze for half a second.

Then I turned to him with my most innocent smile.

“Of course. I’m looking for the buffet.”

Rylee’s gaze narrowed, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“The buffet is on the other side, darling.”

I turned to look.

He was right.

How unfortunate.

“Then why are you standing in my way?”

He stepped aside with a theatrical bow.

“After you, Princess.”

I walked past him before he could notice the way my cheeks had warmed.

Ridiculous man.

Absolutely ridiculous.

And yet, as I made my way through the crowd, my eyes continued their treacherous little search.

Reou.

I wanted to see him.

That was all.

Just one glimpse. One conversation. One chance to stand before him again after all these years and discover whether he still remembered the girl he had spent so much time avoiding.

I wasn’t asking for a miracle.

I was simply asking the universe to stop being so dramatic.

Apparently, the universe had other plans.

The evening stretched into hours. Champagne glasses clinked, conversations flowed, and business deals were discussed beneath the glittering chandeliers. Men approached me with introductions, compliments, and questions about my education. Some were genuinely interested in my return; others seemed far too interested in the possibility of having the Rockwell’s heiress on their side.

I smiled, answered politely, and entertained conversations about architecture, investments, engineering projects, and corporate expansion.

I even managed to impress a gentleman who insisted on explaining his company’s latest infrastructure project to me for twenty minutes.

Twenty.

Whole.

Minutes.

I deserved a medal.

Still, every time someone approached the entrance, my attention betrayed me.

Every time I heard a familiar surname, my heart made an embarrassing little leap.

Every time I spotted a tall man in a dark suit, I looked twice.

And every time, it wasn’t him.

“You’re doing it again,” Rylee remarked as he appeared beside me with two glasses of sparkling water.

“Doing what?”

“Looking at the entrance.”

“I’m admiring the architecture.”

“The architecture is behind you.”

I turned to look at him.

He grinned.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You’re right. Hate requires effort.”

He handed me a glass.

“Seriously, Elise. Who are you waiting for?”

I took a sip, buying myself a moment.

“No one.”

“Interesting. Because you’ve been looking at that door as if the love of your life is about to walk through it.”

My fingers tightened around the glass.

For once, Rylee’s smile softened.

“Is it someone I know?”

I looked away.

“Go flirt with someone else, Rylee.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting.”

He studied me for another moment before lifting his hands in surrender.

“Fine. But for the record, if you’re waiting for a man, you should know that I’m available, handsome, and emotionally prepared to be your rebound.”

I snorted.

“Your confidence is genuinely a public safety concern.”

“Yet you keep coming back for more.”

“Only because you keep appearing where I least expect you.”

“Then perhaps fate is trying to tell you something.”

“Yes. That you need a hobby.”

He laughed, but I was already looking past him.

Still no Reou.

And for the first time that evening, the thought began to settle heavily in my chest.

What if he wasn’t coming?

What if he had heard about my return and simply didn’t care?

What if, after all these years, I was the only one who had remembered?

The questions were cruel, and I hated that they had found their way into my head.

I had spent years convincing myself that I would return with confidence, that I would face him without trembling, that I would no longer be the girl who watched him from a distance and wished she could somehow make his world a little less lonely.

I had prepared speeches in my head. Imagined our reunion a hundred different ways.

In some versions, he would recognize me immediately.

In others, he would be surprised by how much I had changed.

In my favorite version, he would look at me, pause, and smile.

Just once.

A genuine smile, the kind he rarely gave anyone.

But perhaps I had been a fool to expect anything at all.

By ten o’clock, the guests had begun to leave. Businessmen exchanged final handshakes, engineers gathered their belongings, and the music gradually softened. My parents were busy bidding farewell to their guests, while the household staff began clearing the tables.

I stood near the staircase, my smile growing more difficult to maintain.

He hadn’t come.

Not even a message.

Not even a simple welcome home.

I swallowed the disappointment before it could show on my face.

Fine.

Wonderful.

Perfectly fine.

I was Aurora Annaliese Rockwell, daughter of one of the most influential families in the country. I had survived four years of university abroad, endless examinations, impossible professors, and an entire semester of group projects with people who believed deadlines were merely suggestions.

I could certainly survive one absent man.

Even if that man happened to be the only person I had wanted to see all night.

“Darling, are you all right?” Mom asked, approaching me.

I immediately straightened.

“Of course! I’m just tired.”

She studied my face, and for one terrifying second, I thought she could see straight through me.

“Then get some rest. You’ve had a long day.”

I kissed her cheek and excused myself, heading toward the library to retrieve a book I had left there years ago.

The mansion had grown quiet. Without the guests, its enormous halls felt almost unfamiliar, the silence broken only by the distant footsteps of the staff.

I passed the entrance to the study when something on the side table caught my eye.

A newspaper.

It was folded carelessly beside a stack of business magazines, its front page displaying a photograph of a familiar building and several headlines about the country’s corporate elite.

I would have walked past it.

I really would have.

But then I saw the name.

MORETTI.

My steps slowed.

Curiosity won before common sense could intervene. I reached for the newspaper, unfolded it, and scanned the page.

A business article.

A report about a recent corporate merger.

A photograph of Reou attending a formal event.

My heart gave an absurd little flutter.

There he was.

Older, sharper, and more handsome than I remembered. His black suit fit him perfectly, his expression unreadable as he stood beside a group of executives. Even in a photograph, he managed to look as though the entire world was inconveniencing him.

I smiled before I could stop myself.

“There you are,” I whispered.

Then my eyes moved to the headline beneath the photograph.

And my smile disappeared.

MORETTI HEIR REOU ALEXANDER ANNOUNCES ENGAGEMENT: WEDDING BELLS FOR THE COUNTRY’S MOST ELIGIBLE CEO?

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

I read it once.

Twice.

A third time, because surely my eyes had betrayed me.

Engagement?

No.

Absolutely not.

That couldn’t be right.

My fingers trembled as I pulled the newspaper closer, searching desperately for the article’s details.

Reou Alexander Moretti was engaged.

And I had just discovered that the man I had come home for might already belong to someone else.