CHAPTER 2: THE CEO'S UNEXPECTED PROPOSAL

The morning after the gala, I promised myself that Alexander Sterling would never ruin another day of my life.

Unfortunately, the man seemed determined to test that promise.

“Miss Reyes, there is someone waiting for you in the lobby,” Clara announced as she entered my office.

I continued reviewing the documents on my desk. “Tell him I’m busy.”

“He says he won’t leave until you see him.”

“Then he might be spending the entire day downstairs.”

Clara hesitated. “It’s Mr. Sterling.”

My pen stopped moving.

Of course it was.

I leaned back in my chair and looked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manila. Three years ago, I would have abandoned everything just to see him. Now, the thought of facing him before breakfast was enough to give me a headache.

“Give him ten minutes,” I said finally. “Not eleven.”

A few minutes later, the door opened.

Alexander walked inside wearing a charcoal suit, his expression unreadable. He carried no flowers, offered no apology, and behaved as though entering my office were his unquestionable right.

“You look well,” he said.

“And you look like someone who doesn’t understand the meaning of an appointment.”

His jaw tightened.

“I called you yesterday.”

“I noticed. I also ignored you.”

“Isabella.”

“Mr. Sterling.”

He stared at me for several seconds, perhaps searching for the woman who used to soften whenever he said my name.

She was gone.

“Why did you leave?” he finally asked.

I laughed without humor. “Three years, Alexander. You had three years to ask yourself that question.”

“I deserved an explanation.”

“And I deserved to be loved.”

Silence settled between us.

For the first time, I saw something flicker across his face. Regret, perhaps. Or frustration that his usual confidence wasn't working on me.

“I made mistakes,” he admitted.

“You made choices.”

His eyes darkened. “I was building an empire.”

“And I was begging for a place in your life.”

He looked away.

That tiny movement hurt more than I expected. Some foolish part of me had hoped he would deny everything, tell me I had misunderstood, or explain that there had been a reason for all those lonely nights.

But the truth had always been simple.

He had loved me when loving me was convenient.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

Alexander reached into his briefcase and placed a folder on my desk.

“A partnership proposal.”

I opened it cautiously. Sterling Holdings wanted to collaborate with my fashion company on an international luxury development. The figures were impressive, the projected profits substantial, and the opportunities almost impossible to ignore.

Almost.

“You could have sent this through your legal department.”

“I wanted to discuss it personally.”

“Because you need my designs?”

“Because I need you.”

My heart betrayed me with one painful beat.

I closed the folder.

“Choose your words carefully.”

“I mean your company. Your expertise. Your reputation.”

“Then perhaps you should have started with those things instead of pretending this is about our past.”

His expression hardened. “You always assume the worst of me.”

“And you always expect me to believe the best.”

He stepped closer to the desk.

“Sign the agreement, Isabella. We can make this work.”

I examined the proposal again. It was a remarkable opportunity, but something about his urgency bothered me.

“What’s the catch?”

“There is no catch.”

“Then you won't mind if my lawyers review every clause.”

“Of course.”

“And all negotiations will happen through our companies. No private meetings. No personal favors. No references to our previous relationship.”

His face became dangerously still.

“You're treating me like a stranger.”

I met his gaze.

“That's what you made yourself.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then Alexander pulled another document from his briefcase.

“This is the condition my board requires before approving the partnership.”

I scanned the page.

My eyebrows rose.

It proposed a public association between our companies, including joint appearances at major events and a coordinated campaign presenting us as long-standing personal allies. The wording was vague, but the intention was obvious: our history together could become a marketing advantage.

“You cannot be serious.”

“The board believes your return will attract attention.”

“Your board wants to turn my private life into an advertisement?”

“They want the partnership to succeed.”

“Then let them sell your products, not my past.”

I pushed the document toward him.

Alexander didn't take it.

“Consider the proposal,” he said quietly. “The partnership could change everything.”

“It already has.”

I stood, signaling that our meeting was over.

He remained beside the desk, studying me with an intensity that made the room feel smaller.

“Have you forgotten everything we had?”

I swallowed the ache rising in my throat.

“No. That's why I know better than to return to it.”

He looked as though I had struck him.

For one second, I almost reached for his hand. Almost told him that I remembered every promise, every kiss, and every night I had cried myself to sleep.

But remembering love didn't mean I had to surrender to it again.

Alexander finally collected his documents.

“I'll give you until tomorrow to decide.”

“You can give me until next year. My answer won't change.”

He walked toward the door, then stopped.

“Is there someone else?”

The question startled me.

I folded my arms. “Why does that matter?”

His eyes searched my face.

“Because I need to know whether I've lost you to another man.”

I smiled sadly.

“No, Alexander. You lost me to the woman I had to become when you weren't there.”

He left without another word.

When the door closed, I sank into my chair and pressed a hand against my trembling chest.

I hated that he could still affect me.

But beneath the pain, something else was growing.

Determination.

If Alexander wanted a business partnership, he would receive one governed by contracts, not memories. I would protect my company, my independence, and the life I had built without him.

I had no intention of falling in love with him again.

Yet as I reopened the proposal, a handwritten note slipped from between its pages.

Three simple sentences stared back at me.

I never stopped looking for you.

I never stopped loving you.

And this time, Isabella, I won't let you go.

I read the words twice before folding the paper.

Then I dropped it into the wastebasket.

Alexander Sterling could keep his promises.

I had survived without them.

And I would survive whatever he planned next.