Chapter 4 Three

CHAPTER THREE

Eric pov

The elevator doors closed and I felt an irritation under my skin that I could not name. It followed me through the lobby and into the waiting car like a shadow I could not shake. I told myself it was nothing. A long week. Early meetings. Pressure from the board. The usual.

But it was not the usual. It started the moment I saw her.

Cassandra.

There was something in the way she said my name. Soft. Familiar. It struck me in a place I did not expect. The look in her eyes stayed with me too. Not fear exactly. More like someone trying to hold a wall up with trembling hands.

I sat back in the car and loosened my tie. The driver asked if I needed the route changed. I told him no. I barely heard my own voice.

I should not have asked her if we had met before. The question slipped out before I could stop it. The second I said it, her reaction felt wrong. Quick denial. Too stiff. Too tense. Like someone cornered.

I tried to recall every person I had met in the last few years but the image that kept coming back to me was blurry. A voice whispering. A scent I could not fully grasp. An impression that felt like a memory buried under dust.

My fiancée, Charlotte, slid into the car a few minutes later. Her perfume was sharp and immediate. I felt my jaw tighten.

You barely said a word back there. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled like she expected me to apologize.

I had been silent. I knew it. But the silence felt safer than whatever thoughts were circling me.

It was a long morning. I answered flatly.

She talked about her afternoon plans. A luncheon. A designer fitting. A meeting with her mother. I nodded but did not absorb any of it. She reached for my arm and held it. She always did this in public and in private. Possessive but graceful. I usually tolerated it. Today the contact irritated me more than it should have.

You seem distracted, she said.

I looked at the window instead of her. The city passed in quick flashes. Glass. Traffic lights. People crossing streets with purpose.

Just tired, I said.

She kept talking but my mind slipped away again. Back to the elevator. Back to Cassandra.

Why would she lie. Why did her voice shake. Why did something in me react the second I heard her speak. It made no sense. If I had known her before, I would have remembered. I was certain of that.

But I was not certain. Not fully.

Charlotte’s voice broke through my thoughts. I have a charity dinner tonight and you still have not confirmed if you are attending.

I exhaled through my nose and leaned my head back. I had meetings stacked until eight. I would have to show up late or skip entirely. I did not feel like dealing with cameras, reporters or polite conversations that led nowhere.

I will see what I can do, I said.

She sighed. You know how important this is. My parents expect you there. Everyone expects you there.

I did not answer. Expectations were the one thing I had grown up with. They never left. They only changed faces.

The car stopped in front of the office. Charlotte kissed my cheek before stepping out. I did not react. She noticed. Her expression tightened for a second before she gave a controlled smile and walked away.

I watched her until she disappeared through the doors.

Then I looked back toward the street.

Cassandra had stepped out of this same building less than an hour ago. She walked out of it with her head low and her shoulders stiff. People whispered about her. They always whispered. Employees judged every move, every rumor, every detail that felt out of place. And she had walked straight into it on her first day.

I told myself none of it mattered. She was an employee. A stranger. A face I should forget by morning.

Except I knew I would not forget. Something about her stuck too deeply.

I entered the building and checked my watch. Five minutes before my next meeting. I moved through the hallway quickly but the memory still pulled at me.

Her hair was familiar. Her voice even more. When she said we had not met, the lie scraped like sandpaper.

I stopped in the middle of the hallway without meaning to.

Something about her is wrong.

The thought hit me hard enough to make me close my eyes.

Not dangerous wrong. Not threatening wrong. Familiar wrong.

Like a half remembered dream that should not matter but refuses to fade.

I opened my eyes and forced myself to keep walking. My assistant rushed up with notes for the meeting. I took them, scanned them and nodded. My expression never broke.

But my mind stayed on Cassandra.

And for the first time in years, I felt the past shifting under my feet. Like something buried was waiting to claw its way back up.

I told myself it was nothing.

But the truth lingered anyway.

She was not nothing.

And I had no idea why.