The next morning, Whitmore Enterprises came alive with the usual hum of corporate hustle—keyboards clacking, phones ringing, meetings scheduled and rescheduled like chess moves. But one thing was different.Lena Whitmore was glowing.She entered the building like she owned not just the company, but the air around her. Her strides were light, her smile effortless, and her greeting to the receptionist was unusually warm.“Good morning, Tanya. Love the new lipstick,” she said, breezing past with a coffee cup in one hand and her tablet in the other.Tanya blinked. “Oh. Uh, thank you, ma’am!”It didn’t go unnoticed. Whispers floated between desks. Eyes followed her with curiosity and cautious amusement. Even the junior staff were quick to spot the change."She’s glowing," someone whispered near the copy machine."You think it’s because of him?" another responded."You mean Kian? Absolutely. Did you see the way she looked at him yesterday?""She didn’t look at him at all yesterday.""Exactl
Kian and Lena's bond had deepened with every shared laugh, every knowing glance, and every quiet moment between paperwork. Over the weeks following their unforgettable stargazing night and their office food fight, they had become inseparable within the walls of the enterprise. Though their professional facade remained intact to most, the way Kian would pause to refill Lena's coffee without asking, or how Lena always had an extra pen ready for him, told their story in subtler tones.At work, they were a power duo. Clients trusted them. Employees admired them. And while they danced around the edge of something more intimate, the fire between them only grew brighter in their attempts to keep it professional.Then came the announcement.A massive corporate summit had been scheduled. Select executives were being chosen to represent the company at the intercontinental board meetings. Lena and Kian, given their stellar performance and undeniable leadership, were both selected.But not togeth
LENA'S POV The sun was dipping just enough to paint the sky in watercolor hues when I stepped out of the car, my suitcase rolling behind me as I made my way up the front steps of Kian's villa. The trip had been long, exhausting even, filled with boardroom meetings and back-to-back presentations. But the moment I saw him standing there, barefoot in swim trunks, hair tousled, holding two glasses of what I guessed was fresh lemonade, every ounce of fatigue melted off me."Welcome home, traveler," Kian grinned, offering me one of the glasses. I accepted it, taking a slow sip, my eyes shamelessly drifting across his chest. The man had no business looking that good in the sunlight."Thanks. You look... unnecessarily relaxed," I teased."I had to balance the stress you were taking on. Consider it a team effort."We laughed as I wheeled my bag inside and then joined him by the poolside patio. Our refreshments sat on the small table between two lounge chairs, and the music playing from the ne
LENA'S POV Kian had always been a curious mix of brilliance and mystery. But over the past few weeks, since the conference, something had shifted. Lena noticed it first in how early he began showing up at the office, in how meticulously he reviewed proposals, how naturally he commanded meetings. The man who once stumbled awkwardly through paperwork now wielded spreadsheets and strategy like second nature.She watched him sometimes from across their shared workspace—a large open office that had once been her solo domain. At first, it was a comfort to have him near. They shared ideas effortlessly, bounced energy off each other, and if their fingers brushed while passing files, neither of them flinched anymore.But then, there were days when she couldn’t focus.He would be there, bent over reports in that fitted charcoal shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. The sun streaming through the blinds kissed the edge of his jaw. And when he glanced up with that half-smile that knew too muc
KIAN'S POVIt was a stupid biscuit.At least, that’s what I thought until it hit my tongue – dry, coarse, too salty, like sea air and bad luck. Lena had handed it to me casually, teasing that it was a weird flavor she wanted me to try. Something experimental from the bakery down the street. I bit in, expecting nothing. And then everything cracked open.Salt. Water. Darkness. My lungs clawing for air.I froze.Chapter: Kian Memory FlashIt started with a biscuit.Salty. Crumbly. Dry.The kind of blandness that forces your mouth to acknowledge it. That’s what Lena handed me as I leaned across the edge of her desk, lazily brushing through the morning briefs. I took it with zero protest, mostly because her fingers grazed mine when she passed it.“Eat it,” she said with a crooked grin.And I did.But the moment it touched my tongue, something inside me pulled hard—like a rope snapping tight in a storm.It wasn’t the salt.It was the sea.************I was submerged.Frigid water invaded
The car slowed in front of a modest, weather-beaten home nestled between a dense cluster of trees and a gravel pathway. It wasn’t what Lena expected. Not at all.Her lips parted slightly in surprise, then parted further as her eyes scanned the chipped white fence, the rusted mailbox hanging by a single nail, and the patched roof that barely held its shingles. This couldn’t be right. This couldn’t be where Kian Davenport lived. The man she once loved—the man who used to be the shining star of Hudsonville’s elite, the presumed-dead billionaire, the polished, suave, captivating Mr. Kiander.Yet here they were. And there he sat, barely conscious, beside her in the passenger seat.She parked carefully, then turned to look at him. His face was pale. Sweat beaded across his forehead. His fingers twitched slightly. Something about the biscuit she gave him had triggered something—a deep, horrible memory he couldn’t yet put into words.The door of the house creaked open, and an old man stepped
Kian lay quietly on the old wooden bed, the frayed mattress barely making a sound beneath him. The dim evening light sifted through the stained curtains of the small room, casting long shadows across the walls. Lena stood near the doorway for a while, arms folded across her chest, watching him silently. Her mind was clouded with everything that had happened—from the salty biscuit that had triggered his memory to the jarring revelation of where he truly lived.Kian had become stable, his breathing evened out, and the color slowly returned to his cheeks. There was a stillness in the room that didn’t ask for words. It was the kind of silence that carried weight, the kind that demanded introspection.Lena's heels clicked softly against the wooden floor as she approached his bedside. The room smelled of aged wood, salt from Mr. Alcante's fishing gear, and the faint trace of the cologne Kian used sparingly.She knelt beside the bed, her fingers brushing a lock of hair away from his face. He
Kian lay on the bed, his body finally at rest after the storm that overtook his senses. The dim light of the room painted soft shadows over his features, which had calmed since Lena had carried him up the stairs with concern cloaked around her like armor. Now, he looked up at her with a slight smile."I don’t mind a kiss from my boss," he said softly, his voice teasing but sincere. "Especially one I’ve fallen for—her work ethic, her fire, her impossible beauty, and her surprisingly human heart."Lena blinked, startled by the words, not expecting such raw honesty from a man who only moments ago had seemed completely undone. Her hand was still near his cheek from the kiss she had stolen, and she instinctively pulled it back. He wasn’t done."Although," Kian added with a slight grin, "if I’m being totally honest, I could do without the wine bottles and ashtrays."Lena narrowed her eyes, a mix of embarrassment and amusement flashing in them."Is that a light shame, Davenport?" she quipped
Mr. Clementine sat beneath the golden glow of a library chandelier, his fingers tapping against a bound ledger, the pages stiff with age and power. Around him, the scent of old leather and ink hung thick, but his eyes were sharp, modern—cold as a blade. In front of him, spread out like the blueprints of a coup, were documents: Alcante’s estate portfolios, stock movement summaries, board member profiles, and most importantly, the unsigned inheritance contract that would’ve officially transferred majority ownership of Alcante Enterprises and Kiander Group to Kian Ravenna. It had never been signed. Clementine’s lips curled slightly. “So close,” he muttered. “So foolishly close.” Footsteps echoed against the polished wood. Harlin Kane entered without ceremony, his dark coat dripping rainwater onto the ornate rug. He tossed a folder onto the table. “Routine’s tight. Kian’s always got someone watching him now,” Harlin said. “But there’s one window. Thursday night. He has a solo trip p
Clara stirred her coffee slowly, her brow furrowed as she watched the caramel swirl into the black. They sat in a quiet, sunlit corner of Lena’s favorite café—neutral ground, where warmth and conversation usually flowed freely. But today, Clara’s voice was low, her words sharp under the gentle hum of background music and clinking cups.“You’re not listening to me, Lena.”Lena took a sip of her latte and gave a light, tired smile. “I am listening, Clara. I just don’t agree.”Clara leaned in, elbows on the table, her eyes serious. “You think because the headlines are praising him, the world has suddenly become a safer place for Kian? You really believe Harlin’s going to sit back and watch as the man who stole everything from him becomes a media darling?”Lena’s smile faded. “Kian didn’t steal anything. He reclaimed his life. His name.”“And that threatens everything Harlin built off Kian’s disappearance,” Clara snapped. “He built that empire on smoke and mirrors—on the assumption that K
Kian stared at the newspaper article sprawled across the mahogany table, the bold headlines catching the fading golden light that streamed through the restaurant's high arched windows. "KIANDER REVEALED: BRILLIANCE BEHIND THE SHADOWS OF SUCCESS" "KIAN RAVENNA—THE MAN WHO NEVER STOPPED LOOKING FOR THE TRUTH" His name—his name—finally stood on its own, no longer clouded by the mystery of his past, no longer reduced to a whisper or a rumor or a name mentioned in tabloid footnotes. Now, it was declared with clarity, strength, and above all—respect. The world knew him again, not as the enigma from a forgotten scandal, but as a man who had rebuilt himself with nothing but grit, vision, and unwavering integrity. Lena reached across the table and touched his hand. “They’re finally seeing you, Kian. The way I always did.” The candlelight flickered gently, casting soft shadows across her face, and Kian found himself studying her eyes as if they were the only truth he needed to believe in.
KIAN'S POV The morning sun sliced through the blinds in Lena’s office, casting long golden beams across the desks and chairs still cluttered from the night before. I blinked slowly, adjusting to the light, and realized Lena was no longer curled next to me on the couch. Her scent still lingered on the blanket draped over my lap. Vanilla, with something soft and floral beneath. I sat up, stretching the stiffness from my limbs. The quiet hum of conversation and movement outside the office signaled the company was already coming alive for the day. I checked my watch and winced. I was late. Not catastrophically, but enough to make me curse under my breath. I tossed on my jacket, ran a hand through my hair, and stepped into the hallway. The air felt different. There was a strange stillness to the usual buzz of Whitmore Enterprises. People whispered in corners, and when I passed them, they nodded quickly, avoiding my eyes. A few even smiled like they knew something I didn’t. I caught si
The air in Lena's office was cooler at night. Not because of the temperature, but because the noise had died down, and we could finally hear our own thoughts. The lights dimmed to a soft glow, casting golden halos around the stacks of paperwork and open laptops. Her desk was littered with coffee cups and highlighters, but somehow, it still looked elegant—just like her.She sat across from me, her blazer folded neatly on the back of her chair, sleeves rolled up. The top buttons of her blouse were undone, not out of seduction, but exhaustion. Her eyes still sparkled with the kind of determination I knew could move mountains. And yet, she looked at the spreadsheet in front of her as if it had personally offended her."You okay?" I asked, watching her rub her temples.She gave me a small, tired smile. "Yeah. Just... tired. We’re almost there, though. This proposal has to be airtight. No room for weakness."I nodded and stood, walking over to her side of the table. I crouched beside her ch
LENA'S POV The scent of roses and warm lighting greeted me the moment I stepped through the restaurant doors. I paused, stunned. The place looked like something out of a dream—glass chandeliers sparkled above us, the wine glasses caught the candlelight like tiny stars, and the air held the delicate hum of a violin playing somewhere out of sight. Kian stood by the entrance, a soft smile playing on his lips, his hair brushed back neatly, dressed in a navy-blue suit that hugged his frame like it had been stitched just for him. I blinked twice. This wasn’t the man I dropped off at a wooden shack days ago. This wasn’t the man who barely remembered who he was. This man was... composed, radiant. Familiar. "You did this?" I asked, stepping closer, still in disbelief. He offered his arm. "Thought you deserved a night without stress. Besides, I’ve been saving." My heart ached at his sincerity. He wasn’t a billionaire anymore. Not officially. But he still treated me like royalty. We sat in
After the race, we drove a short distance to a small roadside ice cream stand—the kind that never changes, with hand-painted signs and sticky counters. I parked the truck under a tree, and we both got out, our legs still buzzing from the race."Two vanilla cones," I said to the kid behind the stand.Mr. Alcante took his with both hands, as if it were the prize. He sat on a nearby bench and I joined him.We ate quietly at first, the cool sweetness cutting through the dry heat of the afternoon.Then he turned to me and said, "You're like the son I never had, Kian."The words landed softly, but heavily. I looked at him, seeing past the roughness to the warmth beneath."You sure about that? Because I'm pretty high-maintenance."He chuckled, but his eyes glistened. "Still worth it."I bumped his elbow with mine. "You're not getting all emotional on me now, are you?""No," he said, wiping his eye. "Just got ice cream in my eye. Happens."We laughed. We always laughed.That’s when the men ap
KIAN'S POV The morning sun glared off the windshield of the old rust-touched truck as I turned the ignition. The engine grumbled before letting out a reluctant growl, just like Mr. Alcante every time I suggested we replace it. He sat beside me, leaning against the passenger door, sunglasses on, wearing a weathered fishing cap that had more stories than half the folks in Hudsonville."You ready for this?" I asked, glancing over as the engine finally settled into a steady rhythm.He cracked a grin. "Been ready since '74. Back when gas cost less than a loaf of bread."I chuckled and pulled onto the dirt road that led away from our cottage. The town receded behind us, slowly swallowed by the trees and long stretch of highway that coiled along the coast like a silver snake. The sea shimmered in the distance, but today wasn't about the water. Today was about breathing, and giving the man who once saved my life a reason to smile."This truck has character," I said as the window rattled with
The morning sunlight filtered through the tall glass windows of Whitmore Enterprises, casting streaks of golden light across the boardroom table. Kian stood beside Lena, a file in his hand and a fire in his eyes that hadn’t dulled since they entered the office. Across the table, a legal representative from a competing firm sat with a tight-lipped expression and a stack of documents nearly as thick as the tension in the room.The legal battle had been brewing for weeks. A competitor had filed a lawsuit claiming that a recent design prototype launched under Lena’s firm bore similarities to one of their unreleased concepts. Lena had kept her cool in front of the press, but inside, she was burning."We both know this is fabricated," Kian said, his voice low but strong."You’ll need more than intuition in court, Mr. Davenport," the rep responded with a smug smile.Lena tapped her pen against the notepad in front of her. "And you’ll need more than recycled arguments and coincidence to win.