Todos os capítulos de I’m Back, Mr. CEO : Capítulo 191 - Capítulo 200

“But you didn’t.”“No. Because I learned the hard way that love built on lies is just another kind of prison.” She turns to face me. “Your father lied to me. By omission, by action, by silence. Every lie eroded what we had until there was nothing left but ashes.”My throat tightens. “This is different.”“Is it?”“Mom…”“I’m not saying don’t pursue her.” She crosses back to me, takes my hands in hers. “I’m saying be careful. Be honest. The Moore name is heavy, yes, but it’s yours. You’ve earned the right to carry it with pride.”“She’ll hate me if she knows.”“Maybe. Or maybe she’ll surprise you.” Mom squeezes my hands. “But if you start this relationship with a lie, you’re building a house on sand. Eventually, it will collapse. And when it does, you’ll lose her all over again.”I want to argue. I want to tell her she’s wrong, that this is different, that I know what I’m doing.But the thing is, she’s probably right.She’s always right about this stuff.“What if the truth means I never

The coffee shop smells like burnt espresso and broken dreams.I’m fifteen minutes early, sitting at a corner table with a clear view of the entrance, nursing a black coffee I haven’t touched. My leg won’t stop bouncing under the table. I force it still, then it starts again thirty seconds later.Derek wanted to come. “Moral support,” he called it. I told him absolutely not. Some things you have to crash and burn alone.The door opens. Not her. Just some guy in a suit talking too loud on his phone.I check my watch. 6:58 AM.What if she doesn’t show? What if she googled me last night and figured out who I really am? What if she remembered something and this whole plan is already burning before it even starts?The door opens again.Maya.She’s dressed down from yesterday. Jeans, a cream-colored sweater, hair loose around her shoulders. Without the armor of her business clothes, she looks younger. Softer. More like the girl I remember, and that makes everything worse and better at the sa

The three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.This is torture.Maya Sterling: Define “meetings.”Me: Business development. Potential partnerships.I’m making this up as I go. There are no meetings. But I can create meetings. I can create reasons to be in San Francisco that don’t involve admitting I’m planning my entire schedule around seeing her.Maya Sterling: Next week is crazy for me.My stomach drops.Maya Sterling: But I could do coffee Thursday morning. Same rules apply. Don’t be late.Thursday. That’s six days from now.Six days of waiting. Six days of anxiety. Six days of building more lies on top of the ones I’ve already told.Me: Thursday works. Send me the place and time.Maya Sterling: 7 AM. Blue Bottle on Linden Street. And Ethan?Me: Yeah?Maya Sterling: Bring your A-game. I want to hear about this Phoenix Tech of yours. Real details this time, not just pretty words.Oh god. She’s calling my bluff.Me: Deal.I set down the phone and immediately call Derek.He answers o

She solves the problem by extending her hand.I take it. Her grip is firm, professional, but her skin is warm and soft and I don’t want to let go.“Ethan?”“Yeah?”“Whatever you’re hiding, I’m going to figure it out eventually.” Her voice is gentle but serious. “So maybe just save us both the trouble and tell me now?”This is it. The opening. The chance to come clean.“I’m not hiding anything,” I hear myself say.Liar. You’re such a liar.She holds my gaze for another second, then releases my hand.“See you tomorrow night.”I watch her leave, that familiar ache settling in my chest. The door closes behind her, and I’m alone again with my cold coffee and my mounting pile of lies.My phone buzzes.Derek: How did it go?Me: She knows something’s off.Derek: Then tell her.Me: I got dinner tomorrow night.Derek: ETHAN.Me: One more day. That’s all I need.Derek: You said that six days ago.Derek: You said that fifteen years ago.Derek: At some point, you have to stop running.I pocket my

I’m going to be late.The hotel room clock reads 6:47 PM, and I’m still standing in front of the mirror in my dress shirt and slacks, tie hanging loose around my neck because I’ve forgotten how to tie the damn thing properly.My hands won’t stop shaking.Cameron’s words keep playing on repeat. “I have the resources to destroy you.”I almost laugh. Actually laugh.Resources. Cameron Blake thinks he has resources.The man owns part of a restaurant and a venture capital firm. Impressive, sure. For a normal person. But he has no idea who he’s threatening. No idea that the “small startup founder” he’s trying to intimidate has a trust fund that would make most people’s eyes water. That my mother’s company has more liquid assets than Blake Industries will probably see in a decade.I’m not Ethan James, small-time entrepreneur trying to make it big.I’m Ethan Moore. And the Moore name, for all its baggage, comes with the kind of power Cameron can only dream about.The irony is almost funny. He