Chapter 2 The Man From My Past

The moment Dorico Deliman saw me, the glass in his hand stopped halfway to his lips.

For one glorious second, the man who had once made me feel small, unwanted, and replaceable looked as though the world had shifted beneath his feet.

I should have enjoyed it.

I had spent five years imagining our reunion. In some versions, I slapped him. In others, I walked past him without a glance, leaving him to wonder whether I had ever loved him at all. Sometimes, in my weakest moments, I imagined him apologizing, telling me that everything had been a mistake and that he had never stopped loving me.

But standing beneath the golden lights of the Nora Group charity gala, surrounded by wealthy investors and people who measured worth by the number of zeros in a bank account, I discovered that none of those fantasies had prepared me for the real thing.

Dorico was still devastatingly handsome.

His black tuxedo fit his broad shoulders perfectly. His dark hair was neatly styled, and the sharp lines of his face had only grown more striking with age. He carried himself with the same effortless authority that had once made an entire boardroom fall silent when he entered.

He looked exactly like the man I had loved.

And that was the problem.

Because I remembered what it felt like to stand beside him as his wife, believing I would always have a place in his life.

I remembered the divorce papers.

I remembered the silence that followed my desperate question.

Was I ever enough for you?

His answer had been a cold, dismissive look.

Now he was staring at me as if I had returned from the dead.

I lifted my chin and smiled.

Not because I was happy to see him.

Because I refused to let him know that my hands were shaking.

“Mr. Deliman,” I greeted him when I reached the reception area. “It has been a long time.”

His eyes moved over my face, searching for something I no longer intended to give him.

“Maria?”

I pretended to consider the name.

“That’s right. You remember.”

His jaw tightened.

“How could I forget?”

I nearly laughed.

He had forgotten me easily enough when he placed those divorce papers in front of me. He had forgotten me when I walked out of his office with my dignity in one hand and a secret in the other.

But perhaps five years had taught him that people were not always as easy to replace as he had believed.

“Congratulations on the event,” I said smoothly. “The arrangements are impressive.”

He glanced around as though only just remembering where we were.

“You look different.”

“I hope so. Five years is a long time.”

His gaze returned to mine.

“Where have you been?”

“Living.”

The answer was simple, but it landed between us like a challenge.

Before he could respond, a familiar voice interrupted us.

“Maria Clara.”

Vivi Crus appeared beside him in a shimmering champagne-colored gown. Her hair fell in perfect waves over her shoulders, and a diamond necklace rested against her collarbone.

She looked every bit the woman who belonged in Dorico's world.

I wondered whether she still believed that being beside a powerful man was the same as possessing his heart.

Her smile widened when she saw me, but the warmth never reached her eyes.

“I almost didn't recognize you.”

“Then I suppose the years have been kind to me.”

Vivi's smile stiffened.

Dorico looked between us. “You two know each other.”

“We've met,” Vivi answered before I could speak. “Though I never expected to see Maria at one of our events again.”

“One of your events?” I asked lightly.

She blinked.

I glanced at the enormous Nora Group emblem displayed behind the stage.

“I was under the impression this was a corporate charity gala, not a private gathering.”

A nearby investor coughed to hide a laugh.

Vivi's cheeks flushed.

Dorico's expression remained unreadable, but I caught the faint movement at the corner of his mouth.

He was almost smiling.

I hated that I noticed.

“Maria is representing a company shortlisted for our new development partnership,” he explained.

“Of course.” Vivi looked me up and down. “How wonderful that you've found something to occupy your time.”

I met her gaze.

“I found quite a lot, actually.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“And you? Still occupying yourself with other people's lives?”

“Maria,” Dorico warned quietly.

The sound of my name in his voice sent an unwanted shiver through me.

Five years ago, a single word from him could make me apologize even when I had done nothing wrong. I would have lowered my eyes, swallowed my anger, and begged him to understand.

That woman was gone.

“Don't worry,” I told him. “I'm not here to cause trouble.”

“Then why are you here?”

The question came too quickly.

I studied him for a moment.

“Business, Dorico. Something you should understand.”

His expression changed at the sound of his first name.

Perhaps he had expected me to call him Mr. Deliman all evening.

Perhaps he had expected me to remain the timid woman who once waited outside his office for permission to speak.

He had no idea how much had changed.

“My company has earned this opportunity,” I continued. “I'm here to discuss the partnership, meet the investors, and make sure the people who work for me have a future. Nothing more.”

“And nothing less?” he asked.

I smiled.

“Is there something else you think I came for?”

His eyes held mine.

For a moment, the noise of the gala seemed to fade. I could almost hear the questions he wasn't asking.

Why had I left without fighting harder?

Why hadn't I contacted him?

Why had I disappeared so completely?

And perhaps, buried beneath those questions, one he would never admit aloud.

Did you ever love me?

I looked away first, not because I was afraid, but because I had no intention of giving him the satisfaction of knowing that some questions still hurt.

“Excuse me,” I said. “I have investors to meet.”

I turned toward the ballroom.

I made it three steps before his voice stopped me.

“Maria.”

I closed my eyes briefly.

Then I faced him.

“What?”

He looked as though he had several things to say. Instead, he asked, “Are you married?”

The question struck harder than it should have.

I thought of Lucy.

Of her tiny hand curled around my finger when she fell asleep. Of the way she giggled when I pretended not to notice her stealing strawberries from my breakfast plate. Of the questions she had begun asking about fathers and families.

I thought of the man standing before me, who had never once held his daughter.

“No,” I answered.

Something shifted in his expression.

Relief?

Hope?

I refused to guess.

“Why do you ask?”

His face hardened almost immediately.

“I was only curious.”

“Then satisfy your curiosity somewhere else.”

I left him standing beside Vivi.

But I could feel his gaze following me all the way across the ballroom.

My business partner, Adrian Cole, was waiting near the stage with two investors.

He had been one of the first people to believe in my abilities when I began rebuilding my life. He never asked me to explain why I had arrived in a new city with little money and no desire to talk about my past.

He simply gave me a chance.

Today, he was the reason my company stood on the verge of securing one of its biggest contracts.

“There you are,” Adrian said when I approached. “I was beginning to think you had escaped through the kitchen.”

“Tempting, but I promised myself I would behave tonight.”

He laughed.

“Then you haven't met our investors yet.”

After exchanging greetings, we discussed the proposed development project. I presented our timeline, explained the budget, and answered questions about our team's experience.

For the first time that evening, I forgot about Dorico.

This was my world now.

I had built it through sleepless nights, difficult decisions, and more sacrifices than I cared to count. Nobody had handed me a place at the table. I had earned it.

When the discussion ended, one of the investors nodded approvingly.

“Your proposal is impressive, Ms. Clara. The numbers are competitive, and your approach is refreshingly practical.”

“Thank you. We believe the project should benefit the community as well as the company.”

“Excellent. I look forward to seeing the final presentation.”

As they moved away, Adrian leaned toward me.

“That went well.”

“It did.”

“And you managed not to throw a drink at anyone.”

“Don't tempt me.”

He followed my gaze across the ballroom.

Dorico was standing with several executives, but his attention was fixed on us.

Adrian raised an eyebrow.

“Is there something I should know?”

“No.”

“That was a very fast answer.”

“It's a very simple question.”

He studied me for another moment, then wisely decided not to push.

“Fine. But if your mysterious admirer is going to stare at you all evening, perhaps you should charge him a consulting f*e.”

“He isn't my admirer.”

“Then he has an interesting way of looking at you.”

I reached for my glass of water.

“Adrian.”

“All right. I'll behave.”

He walked away to speak with another guest, leaving me alone beside a tall arrangement of white roses.

I should have followed him.

Instead, I made the mistake of looking across the room again.

Dorico was no longer speaking with the executives.

He was coming toward me.

Of course he was.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked.

“Very much.”

“I noticed.”

“Then you must have been watching closely.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“You've become sharp-tongued.”

“And you've become observant. We both have something to celebrate.”

He glanced in the direction Adrian had taken.

“Your partner?”

“My business partner, yes.”

“He seems comfortable around you.”

“Shouldn't he be?”

“I'm simply asking.”

“No, Dorico. You're making assumptions and disguising them as questions.”

His expression cooled.

“I don't appreciate being spoken to like that.”

I stared at him.

For a heartbeat, I was transported back to our old home, where his displeasure could turn an entire evening into a punishment. I remembered measuring every word before speaking, terrified that one wrong sentence would make him retreat further behind his pride.

Then I remembered the day he divorced me.

I remembered how easily he had let me go.

“That's unfortunate,” I said. “Because I no longer arrange my words around your comfort.”

His face went still.

I thought he would walk away.

Instead, he lowered his voice.

“Why did you leave without telling me where you were going?”

A bitter laugh escaped me before I could stop it.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“You divorced me.”

“I remember.”

“Then why are you asking me to explain what happened afterward?”

“Because you disappeared.”

“You signed the papers, Dorico. You made it clear that my presence was no longer wanted.”

His jaw tightened.

“That doesn't mean I expected you to vanish completely.”

The words hurt more than they should have.

Not because I wanted him to miss me, but because he still seemed to believe he had the right to decide how our marriage ended and how I was supposed to live afterward.

“You don't get to choose what happens to me anymore,” I said. “You lost that privilege when you chose to end our marriage.”

For the first time since our reunion, he looked genuinely wounded.

It was a small crack in his composure, gone almost as soon as it appeared.

But I saw it.

And I hated that some foolish part of me wanted to know what had caused it.

Before he could answer, a woman approached us with a tablet in her hand.

“Mr. Deliman, the chairman is ready for the announcement.”

Dorico didn't take his eyes off me.

“Give me a minute.”

“Sir, he specifically asked for you.”

His expression tightened.

Then he looked at me one last time.

“This conversation isn't over.”

I gave him a cool smile.

“For me, it ended five years ago.”

I walked away before he could respond.

My heart was beating too quickly, and I needed air.

I found a quiet corridor leading toward the garden terrace. The music became softer behind me, replaced by the faint rustle of leaves outside.

I gripped the railing and took several slow breaths.

I had survived five years without Dorico Deliman.

I had survived pregnancy, childbirth, financial struggles, sleepless nights, and the fear of raising a child alone. I had learned to build a life without waiting for someone to rescue me.

Surely, I could survive one conversation with the man who had broken my heart.

My phone vibrated.

A message from Tesa appeared on the screen.

Tesa: How is the gala? Have you seen HIM?

I typed a reply.

Me: Unfortunately.

Her response came almost immediately.

Tesa: And?

Me: He's still arrogant.

Tesa: And handsome?

I rolled my eyes.

Me: That is irrelevant.

Tesa: That's not a no.

I couldn't help smiling.

Then another message appeared.

It was a photograph of Lucy asleep in bed, her stuffed rabbit tucked beneath her chin. Her dark hair was spread across the pillow, and one tiny hand rested against her cheek.

My chest softened.

Tesa: She asked whether you'll be home before she wakes up tomorrow. I told her you would try.

I touched the screen with my thumb.

“I'll be home soon, sweetheart,” I whispered.

I had nearly put my phone away when another message arrived.

Tesa: She also asked me something tonight. I didn't know what to tell her.

My smile faded.

Me: What did she ask?

The typing indicator appeared, disappeared, then appeared again.

Finally, Tesa replied.

Tesa: She asked whether her father would recognize her if he ever met her.

The world seemed to tilt.

For several seconds, I could not breathe.

Lucy had asked me about her father before. She had asked why other children had someone to call Daddy, why I never showed her photographs of him, and whether he lived far away.

I had always found a way to answer without giving her a lie she would one day discover.

But I had never imagined she would ask whether he could recognize her.

I looked through the glass doors toward the ballroom.

Dorico stood beneath the chandeliers, speaking to a group of guests. His expression was composed, his posture confident.

He had no idea that the little girl sleeping in my home had his eyes.

He had no idea that she laughed the way he did, with her whole face lighting up before the sound even left her mouth.

He had no idea that every day she grew older, the resemblance became harder for me to ignore.

And he certainly had no idea how close he was to discovering the truth.

I typed carefully.

Me: Tell her that if he ever meets her, he will see a wonderful little girl.

Tesa replied with a heart.

I slipped my phone into my bag and turned back toward the ballroom.

I had come here to secure a business partnership, not to revisit my marriage. I would not allow Dorico's questions to distract me from the future I had worked so hard to build.

But as I stepped through the doors, I found him waiting.

He stood near the entrance, alone now, his expression more serious than before.

“I've been looking for you,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because I want to understand what happened to us.”

I stared at him.

Five years ago, he had given me no chance to explain.

Now he wanted answers.

“How convenient,” I said.

“Maria, please.”

The word please sounded unfamiliar coming from him.

He took one step closer.

“I know I hurt you.”

“You have no idea.”

“Then tell me.”

I looked into his eyes and saw the man I had once trusted with every fragile piece of my heart.

For one dangerous moment, I wanted to tell him everything.

I wanted to tell him about the pregnancy test I had held the day he divorced me. About the hospital room where I had given birth alone. About the nights I had cried quietly so my daughter wouldn't wake up and find me broken.

I wanted him to know what he had missed.

But Lucy wasn't a weapon to use against him, and she wasn't a secret I could reveal simply because he had finally decided to ask questions.

She was my daughter.

And protecting her came first.

“You want to understand what happened?” I asked quietly. “Then start by remembering what you did.”

His eyes darkened.

“I have remembered it every day.”

The confession caught me off guard.

Before I could decide what it meant, Vivi's voice rang out behind us.

“Dorico, they're waiting for you.”

She approached with a bright smile, but her eyes immediately settled on the distance between us.

Her expression changed.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” I answered. “Mr. Deliman and I were just discussing the past.”

Vivi's smile disappeared for half a second.

“The past is the past, Maria.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about.”

I turned to leave.

This time, Dorico didn't stop me.

But just before I reached the ballroom, I heard him speak.

“Maria.”

I paused without turning around.

“When did you leave the country?”

I frowned.

Why would he ask that?

“I didn't.”

Silence followed.

Then I turned to face him.

“Why?”

Dorico looked genuinely unsettled.

“Because I spent the first year after our divorce trying to find you. Every address I had was useless. Every person I contacted said you had disappeared.”

My pulse quickened.

I had never left the country. I had moved to another city, changed my number, and started over. I had believed he never looked for me because he had never cared enough to try.

“You looked for me?” I asked before I could stop myself.

His eyes held mine.

“Yes.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then Vivi stepped between us, slipping her hand through Dorico's arm.

“That's enough,” she said softly. “Whatever happened years ago, it doesn't belong here.”

I watched her fingers settle against his sleeve.

Five years ago, I would have felt that familiar stab of jealousy. I would have wondered whether she had won something I had failed to keep.

Tonight, I felt something different.

Suspicion.

Because Dorico's words had opened a door I had believed was permanently closed.

If he had truly searched for me, then someone had made sure he couldn't find me.

And if someone had wanted us separated badly enough to hide me from him, perhaps our divorce had never been as simple as I had been led to believe.

I walked away without asking another question.

I needed to speak to Daisy.

I needed to know whether the past I remembered was the whole truth.

And above everything else, I needed to keep Lucy safe.

Because for the first time in five years, I was no longer certain that Dorico Deliman had been the only person responsible for destroying our marriage.