Chapter 1

　　NAOMI POV:

　　I should've turned around the second those elevator doors opened."HALE INDUSTRIES." The name hit me like a punch to the gut, carved big and arrogant into that white marble.

　　Sixteen years of trying to forget him, and there it was, staring me right in the face like it still owned me.

　　My stomach twisted. For a second I couldn't breathe. I almost hit the button to go back down, but I didn't. I stepped out instead, heels clicking on the cold floor, heart hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat.

　　"You're here for the contract," I kept telling myself. "Just the contract. You're not that scared, pregnant girl anymore."

　　The receptionist gave me a polite smile. "Ms. Reed? They're ready for you."

　　I followed the coordinator down the hallway, palms sweaty, mouth dry. Every step felt heavier. He was in there, I could already feel it in the air. The door opened, he was standing at the window, back to me, shoulders tense like the whole city pissed him off. The second the door shut behind me, he turned around.

　　Grey eyes. The same ones I see every morning when my daughter looks at me.

　　Everything inside me just… stopped. My chest squeezed so tight I forgot how to breathe. He looked older, sharper, with silver starting at his temples now. His gaze locked on mine and didn't let go. For a long, painful second, neither of us said anything.

　　I forced myself to move. I walked over, pulled out a chair, and sat down like my legs weren't shaking. I opened my folder, looked straight at the events coordinator instead of him.

　　"Let's start with the budget," I said, my voice surprisingly steady.

　　The whole meeting felt like walking on broken glass. I talked about vendors, timelines, and venue capacity while my skin buzzed and my stomach kept flipping. Sebastian barely spoke. He just sat there watching me, quiet in a way he never used to be. His eyes kept coming back to my hands every time I folded the corner of the page without thinking.

　　That stupid old habit. I felt his stare like a touch. Memories tried to push their way in, the little café on Renner Street, his laugh, the way he used to lean across the table and say, "You're doing it again," in that warm voice that always made me melt.

　　I shoved it all down.When I finally glanced at him, his grey eyes were right there, searching my face like he was looking for the girl he left behind. My heart slammed against my ribs. "The florist portfolio," I said, clearing my throat. "I'll need it by Thursday."

　　"Done," he answered quietly.

　　Just one word. But the way he said it… it felt like so much more. Like something I didn't want him to promise.

　　The coordinator left first. I took my time packing up my stuff, trying to act normal, Calm. In control. I grabbed my bag and headed for the door.

　　"Naomi." His voice stopped me cold, low, and rough. Like it hurt him to say my name.

　　I stood there with my back to him, hand on the door handle, pulse racing. The silence stretched between us, thick and heavy. Part of me wanted to turn around. The smarter part of me walked out.

　　Inside the elevator, I stared at my reflection and whispered, "You're okay. You did fine."

　　My hands were still steady. My face looked put together.Then my phone buzzed, unknown number. I opened the message and froze.

　　Text: "He didn't just find you today. He's been watching you and your daughter for over a year. Ask him why he really brought you back."

　　The elevator doors opened into the busy lobby, but I couldn't move. My heart was pounding so hard it hurt. That quiet "done." Those grey eyes, the way he said my name like he'd been carrying it around for years.

　　What the hell had I just walked into?