Chapter One

Six Years Later

Celeste

There’s something about six years that makes you believe you’ve healed.

But healing isn’t always whole. Sometimes it’s just surviving.

“Mommy, are my braids even?” Amara twisted her head toward the mirror, her tiny fingers tugging gently at her dark curls.

“Perfect,” I said, kneeling beside her to adjust the second ribbon. “You look like a queen.”

She grinned, a gap-toothed, radiant smile that never failed to undo me. So much of her reminded me of me—same wide eyes, same stubbornness. But her smile… that belonged to someone else.

Someone I hadn’t seen since that night.

She didn’t know about him. She only knew he was “a kind stranger” from long ago. I had told her enough to keep her curious heart quiet, but not so much that it would break mine.

“Do you have work today?” she asked.

“Not yet,” I murmured, smoothing the front of her little uniform. “But maybe soon.”

I pressed a kiss to her forehead and sent her off with our neighbor’s teenage daughter, who walked her to school every morning. I watched her until she disappeared around the corner. Then I closed the door, leaned against it, and finally allowed myself to breathe.

Today had to go well.

I had my resume printed and folded in a sleek portfolio. My outfit was carefully chosen: a navy blue blouse, clean slacks, low heels I could still run in if needed. My makeup was minimal, just enough to cover the dark circles.

It had been years since I worked in a real office. Years since I juggled phones and coffee orders and CEOs with tight schedules. Most of my recent jobs were part-time gigs at small companies or remote customer service roles I squeezed in while Amara napped.

But Williams Corp was different. It was a name. A real name.

They had posted an opening for an Executive Assistant position online two days ago. I sent in my resume that night, not expecting much. But yesterday, I got an email inviting me for a walk-in screening. "Bring your resume. Come before noon. Be prepared."

Prepared.

I didn’t know how prepared I could be. But I was desperate. And desperation had a way of sharpening your edges.

The train ride to the business district felt longer than usual. I clutched the handrail with white knuckles, silently rehearsing my lines over and over. What to say. How to stand. How not to look like I was barely keeping it together.

When I stepped off and turned the corner, I saw it.

Williams Tower.

Sixty floors of glass, steel, and untouchable wealth. It gleamed in the morning sun like a monument. The Williams name was everywhere: on the revolving doors, etched in silver across the sleek marble walls, even embroidered onto the uniforms of the building staff.

I hesitated before walking in, taking in the atrium.

The lobby was a world of its own—towering ceilings, white stone floors, soft classical music playing from somewhere invisible. A curved staircase wrapped around a central waterfall that spilled down into a shallow pool. Real plants. Real light. Real power.

Everyone moved like they had purpose. Pressed suits. Polished heels. Headsets. Briefcases. Coffee cups clutched like armor.

I didn’t belong here.

Not yet.

But I would.

I approached the reception desk. The woman behind it was young, poised, and barely glanced at me as she tapped on her screen.

“Hi,” I said with practiced calm. “I’m here for the walk-in interview. The EA position.”

She nodded. “HR is on the thirtieth floor. You can go up.”

“Thank you.”

I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for thirty. As the doors closed, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirrored panel.

Still me. But older. Tired.

For Amara, I reminded myself. For the life we deserve.

The thirtieth floor was quieter than the lobby, but not by much. The walls were glass and ivory, framed with subtle silver accents. Art hung in sleek frames. The floors were carpeted in dove gray. Everything felt muted, expensive, intimidating.

I stepped out and turned toward a hallway labeled HUMAN RESOURCES, only to nearly walk into someone.

“Oh—I’m so sorry,” I blurted.

“No worries.”

The man was tall, probably around my age, with warm brown eyes and a slightly crooked grin that somehow made him even more attractive.

“You lost?” he asked.

“No. I mean, kind of. I’m looking for HR.”

“Ah. Walk-in day,” he said knowingly. “Bold of you to show up in person. Most people ghost after the first rejection.”

“Didn’t have much of a choice,” I said honestly.

He offered a hand. “Nicolas.”

“Celeste.”

His handshake was firm, not overconfident. “Well, good luck. If you survive the interview and Violet Yu, you’ll do just fine.”

“Violet Yu?”

“You’ll see,” he said cryptically.

Before I could ask, another voice cut in.

“You’re blocking the hallway again, Nico.”

This man looked nothing like Nicolas. Dark hair, sharper features, intense blue eyes. Where Nicolas had warmth, this one had ice.

He looked at me briefly, then back at his cousin. “You hitting on HR candidates now?”

Nicolas rolled his eyes. “She bumped into me. I’m being friendly.”

“It’s Tristan,” the second one said to me. “Don’t let him scare you off.”

“Nice to meet you both,” I said, trying not to sound as nervous as I felt.

“Break a leg, Celeste,” Nicolas said, and gave me a wink.

Their teasing continued as I made my way to the waiting area. I sat down on a pale beige couch, surrounded by a few other hopefuls. Most were glued to their phones or murmuring to themselves as they reviewed notes.

Time stretched. One by one, people were called in. I clutched my folder tighter with each passing minute.

Just as my name was about to be called—just as my spine straightened and I stood—a familiar chime echoed from the elevators.

I turned, barely glancing at first. But something in my body reacted before my brain caught up.

A tall man stepped out. Dark hair. Tailored black suit. Shoulders broad and posture military straight. He walked with an effortless authority, speaking low into a phone pressed to his ear.

He didn’t glance at us. Didn’t slow. Just walked past, and the hallway seemed to part for him.

Something about him made my breath catch.

The way he moved. The sound of his voice, deep and quiet. The familiar curve of his jaw. I could only see the side of his face for a moment, then the back of his head as he turned the corner.

But something tugged at me.

A thread in my memory.

Familiar. But impossible.

“You okay?” Nicolas asked, seeing the way I stared.

I blinked. “Yeah. Just… he looked familiar.”

“That’s Sebastian,” Tristan said. “The CEO. Don’t worry, he doesn’t bite unless provoked.”

I gave a small laugh, but the strange ache in my chest didn’t fade.

Sebastian.

The name meant nothing to me. Just another powerful man in a powerful suit.

Still, as he disappeared into the executive wing, something stayed with me.

Not a memory. Not a name.

Just a flicker.

A shadow.

I turned back to the HR assistant, who was now looking directly at me.

“Celeste Shawn?”

I nodded.

She gestured me forward. “Right this way. You’ll be meeting with Ms. Chang.”

My feet moved before I could think.

The interview room was glass-walled, clean and modern. A smiling middle-aged woman with sharp eyes greeted me from across the desk.

“Have a seat. I’ve looked over your resume. You have excellent admin experience, though there’s a bit of a gap in recent years?”

I nodded, forcing a smile. “I took a step back to raise my daughter. But I’ve stayed sharp—freelance admin work, part-time scheduling, virtual assistant roles. All remote, which allowed me to still be fully present for her.”

Ms. Chang nodded. “We respect working mothers here. We also expect dedication.”

“I understand. I’m ready.”

We spoke for twenty minutes—about the company, the team structure, the expectations. She said there were still a few candidates, but she appreciated my poise and directness.

Then she paused and clicked open an alert on her screen. Her brows lifted slightly.

“Actually…” She looked up at me. “The EA position you came in for was just filled this morning. The team moved fast.”

“Oh.” I tried to hide my disappointment.

“But,” she added, tapping her pen thoughtfully against the edge of her desk, “there’s been a sudden development. Our CEO’s secretary just submitted her resignation an hour ago—completely unexpected.”

I blinked. “Really?”

She nodded. “It’s not officially posted yet, but it will be by this afternoon. It’s a more intense role. Direct support to the CEO. Demanding, high-pressure—but higher compensation, too.”

My throat tightened. “I’d be open to it.”

She studied me a moment longer, then smiled. “I believe you. We’ll be in touch.”

As I left the office, I tried not to let my hopes rise. But something about the moment lingered. A strange twist of timing. A ripple.

Back in the elevator, I stared at my reflection again.

This time, I looked... steady.

Still tired. Still scared. But steady.

And completely unaware that I had just stepped into the storm I’d been trying to outrun for six years.