LENA'S POV The Price of The office had settled into its usual rhythm—calls being made, deals being closed, and employees moving like well-oiled machinery. But I barely registered any of it. Not after what I had just seen. Not after Kian. I sat in my chair, staring blankly at my computer screen, my mind still reeling from the sight of him on that stage, accepting an award for being an "upcoming" entrepreneur. Kian, who had once been a multi-billionaire, now being presented as if he were just getting started? Nothing about it made sense. Had he lost everything? Had he been playing a role? Or worse… Had he deliberately erased his past? A sharp vibration against my desk pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts. I glanced at my phone, my stomach clenching the moment I saw the name flashing across the screen. Grandfather. I sighed, rubbing my temple. I had a feeling I knew exactly what this was about. After a brief moment of hesitation, I pressed accept an
LENA'S POV The soft hum of the city night barely reached my penthouse, muffled by the thick walls of my solitude. I had spent the entire drive home replaying the events of the day, the conversations, the disappointments, the unshakable ghost of Kian Davenport lurking in my thoughts.But now, as I stood in my living room, staring at the valentine’s package on the coffee table, a different kind of tension settled over me.I had avoided opening it all day, as if delaying the inevitable would somehow change the outcome.Deep down, I knew why.I had foolishly hoped.Hoped that when I opened the package, it would be from him. That Kian had sent it as some kind of silent confession. A recognition that he still remembered me.My fingers trembled as I reached for the silk ribbon, slowly untying the bow before lifting the lid.Inside, an array of roses lay in perfect arrangement, their scent instantly filling the space around me. Beneath them, a velvet-wrapped jewelry box sat nestled in betwee
LENA'S POV The next morning, I woke up with a plan—deal with Harlin, and find Kian.But my mother had other ideas.“Lena, we’re going to the dealership. You need a new car.”I groaned, rubbing my temples. “Mother, I already have six.”She waved off my complaint. “And now you’ll have seven. You’ve been driving the same Range Rover for over a year. It’s time for an upgrade.”I sighed, already knowing that arguing with Vivian Whitmore was pointless. Once she decided on something, it was as good as done.So that was how I found myself in the backseat of our Bentley, heading toward one of the most exclusive car dealerships in Hudsonville, with my mother sitting beside me, scrolling through her tablet as if this was just another business transaction.An Argument Waiting to Happen“You should be focusing on Whitmore Enterprises more,” my mother said suddenly, without looking up.I raised an eyebrow. “I run the company, Mother. What more do you want?”She turned to me, her piercing gaze unre
LENA'S POVThe sun was beginning to dip behind the skyline of Hudsonville, casting long shadows across the rooftop café. It was quiet here—removed from the traffic, the chaos, the legacy.Just the two of us.Me and Kian Davenport.The man I loved. The man I lost. The man who now sat across from me like a stranger.I watched him, unsure of whether to speak first. He looked composed, impossibly still, dressed in muted grey and black—understated, elegant, guarded.He offered a small nod when I sat down. “Lena.”The way he said my name still made my stomach tighten.“Thanks for agreeing to meet up. I could tell you're a very busy person.” I said, folding my hands in my lap.Kian gave a faint smile, nothing behind it. “I figured I owed you at least that much. The gala was… unexpected.”I looked at him carefully. “You mean pretending not to know me in front of a crowd?”His smile faded just slightly. “I wasn’t trying to be cruel.”“No,” I said, a little sharper than I meant. “You never were
KIAN'S POV I hadn’t expected to spend the day with Mr. Alcante. In fact, I hadn’t planned on spending it with anyone. But when he knocked on my door that morning, weathered hat in one hand, a mischievous smile on his face, and a backpack slung over his shoulder, I knew whatever he had in mind would be far from quiet. “We’re going to the city,” he announced. I raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you leave the beach?” “Since today. There’s a carnival. Once a year. Big, bright, loud. Come on, you need it.” Before I could protest, he was already halfway down the path that led away from the cottage."I don't think this is a good idea. I'll prefer to stay in and work on my company's portfolio.""Work, work, work. Is all you do recently. We're not getting any younger, you know?" He responded."I know, and that's why I'm trying to retire the both of us. I want to be able to comfortably buy a large mansion for you at the city, before the year runs out." I said, a smile plastered across my f
KIAN'S POV After the carnival lights began to fade into twilight, we drove out of the city and up into the hills overlooking the coastline. The view stretched wide and distant—the darkening sea meeting the sky in a hazy blue horizon. We parked on a gravel patch near the cliffside and walked to the edge, where the wind rolled in steady waves. Mr. Alcante sat on the hood of the truck, pulling out a pack of old tobacco cigarettes from his jacket. “Haven’t had one of these in a while,” he muttered, lighting it with a flick of his thumb. He offered me one. I hesitated, then took it. Reaching for the lighter placed in between us, I lit up the cigarette, watched it burn slowly before taking a long drag of nicotine. The smoke curled in the cold air as we sat quietly, the glow of the city far below us, the carnival now a flickering memory in the distance. I looked over to Mr. Alcante, who was busy taking the hilltop view in. I smiled briefly, Knowing my old man's actually smiling. “Alr
KIAN'S POV The sky was ink-black by the time I pulled into the driveway. The porch light flickered once, then steadied as I cut the engine and sat for a moment, letting the silence press in. Mr. Alcante was already asleep in the back of the truck, snoring gently under a folded blanket. I didn’t wake him. He’d find his way inside eventually, like he always did. But me? I wasn’t ready to step inside. Because tonight felt different. Because tonight, she was in my head again. Lena. It wasn’t just her voice or her scent or her smile. It was the way she said my name. The way she looked at me with this desperate, aching belief that I was someone she used to know. Someone she still cared for. Someone she maybe still loved. I recognized her. That was the worst part. I recognized something in her. And yet, my mind refused to hand over the memory. Like it had locked the truth behind a door I wasn’t allowed to open. Not yet. Not until it decided I was ready. I stepped inside the house
LENA'S POV The restaurant was exquisite. Crystal chandeliers hung overhead like stars suspended by invisible thread, and the polished marble floors reflected the golden light that made everything feel expensive, staged, and cold. The place was too perfect—like a dream designed by someone else. Someone like my father. I sat at the edge of a velvet-cushioned chair, legs crossed, arms folded, giving off the exact amount of politeness required. My phone buzzed in my clutch, and I knew without checking it was my father. A follow-up, no doubt. I didn't bother answering. I knew what he'd say. "Just give him a chance." But he didn't mean Dylan, the man sitting across from me, fiddling with his cufflinks like he wasn't sure what to say next. No, this whole thing was a distraction, a smokescreen. My father still wanted Harlin Rider in the picture. This was all theatre. "You look lovely tonight," Dylan said, his voice pleasant, if a bit rehearsed. I smiled politely. "Thank you."
KIAN'S POV The next morning, I woke with a sense of clarity I hadn’t felt in a long time. The previous night’s conversation with Mr. Alcante still echoed in my head, but it no longer weighed me down. It gave me purpose. A reason to act. He was still sleeping when I left the house. I scribbled a note, placed it on the kitchen counter, and tucked the blanket around him one last time before stepping out into the crisp morning air. The coastal breeze was stronger than usual, whipping through my shirt as I climbed into the truck. The roads were quiet this early, the world still shaking off the last traces of night. When I pulled into the small-town pharmacy, the bell above the door jingled as I walked in. The shelves were lined with everything from painkillers to vitamins, old carpet underfoot muffling my steps. And there she was. Behind the counter, the same woman who had helped me a few weeks ago when Mr. Alcante was in a bad medical state. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, gla
KIAN'S POV The air was thick with the scent of salt and worn wood. Dusk had wrapped the coastline in a shade of burnt gold, the last fingers of sunlight trailing across the edge of the porch. Mr. Alcante sat where he always did around this hour—a chair that looked like it had been built before I was born, his back hunched slightly, a half-carved piece of driftwood in his hand. I stood in the doorway, watching him. For weeks, maybe months now, questions had twisted inside me like old ropes, frayed and knotted. But tonight, they felt like they might finally come undone. "Can I sit?" I asked. He didn’t look up, just nodded toward the empty chair beside him. I crossed the wooden floor slowly, the boards creaking beneath my steps. When I sat, I could feel the silence between us pressing in. It wasn’t uncomfortable—it was just heavy. "Where did you find me, Mr. Alcante?" He paused, the small knife in his hand freezing mid-whittle. "You know where," he said without looking at me. "I
LENA'S POVThe tension in my chest didn’t fade after Kian walked off with Tara for their little discussion. If anything, it deepened, settling in the pit of my stomach like a stone I couldn’t digest. I returned to my office and dropped into my chair, mentally composing a hundred different messages I wouldn’t send.Then, without knocking, Clara entered.She was carrying two coffees and wearing that amused expression that said she was about to ruin me with honesty and caffeine."I saw your face from the elevators," she said, placing one of the cups in front of me and sliding into the chair across the desk. "Something’s up. And if I had to guess, it’s tall, charming, and temporarily memory-wiped."I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Tara.""The one with the kid and the silky voice?""That’s her."Clara took a slow sip. "What did she do?""Nothing technically," I muttered. "Kian bumped into her last week. Helped her son cross the road. Today, she’s talking about real estate partnerships and wa
LENA'S POVIt had only been a week since Kian and I defined our relationship again, but the truth was, the ghosts of his past were still trailing us. I couldn’t shake the feeling that if we didn’t start pulling some of those pieces back together, we’d never feel solid.So I did what any self-respecting, curious woman would do.I brought in Clara.Clara had always had a talent for sniffing out truth, and she’d known Kian back then—before everything fell apart. If anyone could draw something out of him, intentionally or not, it would be her.The bar was dim but elegant, lit by rows of pendant lights and the flicker of tea candles in glass jars. Clara sat in the back corner booth like a queen surveying her domain, her eyes instantly narrowing on Kian the second we entered.We slid into the booth, Clara opposite Kian. She didn’t speak for the first ten seconds, just studied him."You look the same," she said finally. "Except... softer. Less guarded."Kian gave a slow nod, the corners of h
LENA'S POV The weekend air was warm and sweet, touched with the scent of blooming grass and the distant murmur of bees. The clearing we picked for our picnic was wrapped in soft sunlight, the kind of light that made everything feel a little less heavy. Kian and I had barely been official for a week, but there was something about being with him today that made the world feel whole. We set up the blanket beneath an oak tree that leaned ever so slightly, like it was bending to listen. The basket between us was filled with lemonade, strawberries, a couple of sandwiches we haphazardly threw together that morning, and a container of fresh mango slices Kian insisted on adding, claiming, "They taste like joy." He stretched beside me on the blanket, one hand propping his head up, the other absentmindedly toying with the edge of my dress. His fingers moved like he was trying to remember something tactile, something he couldn’t quite name. "You’ve been awfully quiet," I said, brushing a s
LENA'S POVThe water was still, glass-like, except for the gentle ripple trailing behind my fingers.I leaned back, submerged to my shoulders in the heated pool, the pale moonlight splintering on the surface. Smoke curled lazily from the cigarette between my fingers, mixing with the rising steam in ghostly patterns.It was quiet here.No meetings. No calls. No sharp voices disguised as guidance. Just silence… and truth.And it hurt.My robe was discarded somewhere on the stone ledge. The cigarette pack lay open beside a half-full glass of scotch. I hadn’t planned to come out here tonight. I hadn’t planned to think. But some truths don’t wait for permission.They claw their way up through the fog, demanding to be heard.I closed my eyes and let myself sink a little deeper, the warm water hugging my collarbones. My other hand, free of the cigarette, drifted in slow arcs beneath the surface—aimless, like me.The truth wouldn’t stop whispering.They were working together.Grandfather and
LENA’S POVIt was nearly midnight when my phone rang.I stared at the screen, the contact glowing like a pulse in the dark: Grandfather.My chest tightened. He rarely called—messages, yes; a carefully chosen word dropped through Harlin now and then, definitely. But not a call. Not this late. And not directly.I picked it up on the fourth ring.“Lena.”His voice hadn’t aged a day. Still sharp, low, authoritative. A voice that could cut marble if it wanted to.“Grandfather,” I said, trying to mask the hesitation in my tone. “It’s late.”“I didn’t call to chat about the weather.”Of course not.My hand tightened around the phone. I was already walking toward the windows of my office, the city glittering below in sterile silence. I had stayed late tonight, clearing reports and re-reading old data. But the moment I heard his voice, every spreadsheet and deal felt miles away.“There’s been a noise in the wind,” he continued, slowly. “About a man. A ghost. They’re saying Kiander is alive.”I
KIAN’S POV“Where did you find me, Mr. Alcante?”My voice hung in the air, sharp and unwavering.He stood by the window now, his back to me. The moonlight fell across his frame, catching the silver in his hair. For a man who always spoke in steady tones and gave answers like puzzle pieces, he suddenly looked… uncertain.I took a step forward.“You heard me,” I said, softer this time. “No riddles. No delays. Just the truth.”He didn’t move.Instead, he said, “In time, Kian. You’ll remember. That’s how the mind works. It doesn’t take orders—it reveals things when it’s ready.”“That’s not an answer,” I snapped. “You’re not even trying to lie. You’re just hiding it.”Still, he didn’t turn.The room was dim and quiet, except for the faint ticking of the old brass clock on the wall. My breath had calmed, but my heart hadn't. The dream still pulsed behind my eyes—Lena’s face, her father’s gaze, the feeling of falling. The cold that didn’t belong to sleep, but to something real. Something bu
KIAN'S POV It started with light.Warm and golden, spilling through the trees like honey. I was standing on soft earth, surrounded by whispering leaves. Birds chirped somewhere above, their songs woven into the breeze. It felt familiar, like a place I should’ve known.Then I saw them—Lena and a man.Her father.I knew him before he even turned around. Not from memory—no, my mind still wore its cracks like broken glass—but from the way her shoulders eased when he spoke, the way his hand brushed hers in reassurance. The same shade of fire danced in their eyes, and the bond between them hummed in the air like a current. Father and daughter.She smiled at him. Not the crooked smirk she gave me when she was teasing. No—this one was soft. Grateful. It made my chest ache.I wanted to reach them. Say her name. Ask the questions that clung to the edge of my mind like ivy on stone. But when I moved, my feet stayed rooted. I tried again—nothing.They hadn’t noticed me. The wind picked up, scatt