Chapter Two - The man she left behind

Dexter Lim had spent years telling himself that he hated Selena Richard.

It was easier that way.

Anger was simpler than heartbreak.

He had been twenty-three when she left. Young enough to believe love could last forever and naïve enough to think that if two people loved each other, nothing could tear them apart.

He had been wrong.

He remembered the night she disappeared.

He had waited outside her apartment for hours. He had called her phone repeatedly and knocked on the door until his hands hurt.

Nothing.

By morning, her apartment was empty.

She had taken almost everything.

Almost.

A photograph of them together had been left on the kitchen counter.

Dexter still had it seven years later.

He opened his desk drawer and stared at the photograph.

Selena was smiling in it, her hand resting on his arm. Dexter was looking at her as if she were the only person in the world.

He hated himself for keeping it.

He shut the drawer.

A knock sounded.

“Come in.”

His secretary stepped inside. “Sir, Ms. Richard has accepted the position.”

“I know.”

“She starts Monday.”

“I know.”

The secretary hesitated. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“No.”

It was a lie.

Everything about Selena was a problem.

Monday arrived too quickly.

Selena entered Lim Corporation at exactly eight o’clock.

Dexter noticed.

Of course he noticed.

She wore a simple navy blouse and black trousers. Her hair was pulled back neatly, and a tablet rested beneath one arm.

Professional.

Composed.

As if they had never shared anything.

“Good morning, Mr. Lim.”

“You’re early.”

“I like being prepared.”

“Good.”

He handed her a folder.

“Today’s schedule.”

She opened it. “Your nine o’clock has been pushed to ten. The board meeting is at two. You have lunch with Mr. Wilson at twelve-thirty.”

Dexter stared at her.

“You memorized all that?”

“I read the schedule.”

“Most assistants don’t bother.”

“Then maybe you hired the right one.”

He almost smiled.

Instead, he returned to his computer.

“Cancel lunch.”

Selena looked puzzled. “Why?”

“I don’t want it.”

“You confirmed it yesterday.”

“I changed my mind.”

She sighed.

Dexter looked up. “Did you just sigh at me?”

“No.”

“You did.”

“I was breathing.”

For a moment, the old Selena was back.

The woman who had always challenged him. The woman who had once laughed whenever he complained about being contradicted.

He pushed the memory away.

“There’s another meeting.”

“With whom?”

“Investors.”

“What time?”

“Four.”

“That’s not on the schedule.”

“It is now.”

She wrote it down.

“Anything else?”

“No.”

She turned to leave.

“Selena.”

She stopped. “Yes?”

“How old is your son?”

She froze.

“Why?”

“I’m making conversation.”

“You’re bad at it.”

Dexter raised an eyebrow.

“You haven’t changed.”

Neither have you.

The thought nearly escaped her lips.

“He’s six,” she said.

Dexter went still.

“Six?”

“Yes.”

“When was he born?”

Selena’s stomach clenched. “Why does that matter?”

“Because I asked.”

“That isn’t a good enough reason.”

Dexter sat back. “You seem defensive.”

“I don’t like personal questions at work.”

“Fine.”

She walked away.

But the number stayed in his mind.

Six.

Six years old.

Selena had vanished seven years ago.

He tried to convince himself that the dates meant nothing.

They could mean nothing.

Yet a question had appeared in his mind, one he did not want to ask.

Could Adrian be his son?

Over the following days, Dexter found himself watching Selena more closely.

She never complained about the workload. She arrived early, kept his schedule organized, and somehow remembered details he himself forgot.

She also avoided every personal question.

Especially questions about Adrian.

Dexter did not understand why that bothered him so much.

One afternoon, he heard her phone ring.

“Hello?”

Her expression changed.

“What happened?”

Dexter looked up.

“My son is sick?” she asked.

She stood immediately.

“Is he all right?”

She listened, then grabbed her bag.

“I’ll be right there.”

Dexter stood. “What’s wrong?”

“Adrian has a fever.”

“Do you need to go?”

“Yes.”

“Then go.”

She hesitated. “I’ll finish the reports tonight.”

“Don’t.”

“But—”

“Your son needs you.”

She nodded.

“Thank you.”

She hurried away.

Dexter stared at the closed door.

He told himself that he was only concerned because she was his employee.

Nothing more.

But the truth was that he could not stop thinking about the little boy named