Emily sat cross-legged on the hotel bed, staring blankly at the open folder in front of her. The redevelopment plans, the notes, the timeline — they all blurred together, their sharp edges dulled by the storm swirling in her mind.
Why did it have to be him? she thought, squeezing her eyes shut. She had worked so hard to rise in her career, to distance herself from the girl she had been. But seeing Ethan again… it had been like walking back in time.
Flashback — Maplewood, 10 years ago
Emily was seventeen, barefoot on the old dock by Maplewood Lake, the summer sun kissing her skin as she laughed and tugged at Ethan's hand.
"Come on, city boy," she teased, eyes sparkling. "Don't tell me you're scared of a little water."
Ethan grinned, pulling off his shirt and tossing it aside. His dark hair was ruffled, his lean frame tanned from sneaking out to see her every weekend.
"I'm not scared," he murmured, stepping closer. "But if I go in, you're coming with me."
Emily squealed as he scooped her into his arms and leapt into the lake, both of them plunging into the cool, clear water. She surfaced, laughing and gasping, her arms flung around his neck.
"Promise me something," Ethan whispered, his forehead resting against hers. "Promise me we'll leave this town together one day. Go somewhere they can't touch us."
Emily's smile faltered. She knew who "they" meant — the Saintwood family, with their sharp suits, sharp words, and sharper expectations. They'd made it clear from the start that Ethan's relationship with a small-town girl like her was unacceptable.
"I promise," she whispered, squeezing his hand. "We'll find a way, Ethan. We always do."
Back to present
Emily exhaled shakily, pressing her hands to her face. We didn't find a way, she thought bitterly. That summer had been the last time she'd felt truly happy.
Flashback — The night everything fell apart
Emily remembered the cold knock at their door. Her father opening it, his face paling as Mr. Saintwood himself stepped inside, flanked by men in tailored suits.
"We're here for a word, Mr. Carter," the older man had said smoothly. "About your daughter."
Emily, hidden in the hallway, had watched her father's fists clench. Watched her mother's anxious glance. Listened as the Saintwoods explained, calmly, that the relationship was over. That if Emily didn't leave town, her family would lose everything — their home, their jobs, their reputation.
She had never seen her father cry before that night.
The next morning, they packed their bags. She left without saying goodbye.
Back to present
Emily's throat tightened. She'd told herself she'd moved on. That she didn't care anymore. But seeing Ethan today, looking into those gray eyes that had once gazed at her like she was his entire world, had ripped open every old wound.
She wiped at her eyes angrily. Focus, Emily. You are here for the project, not for the past.
But deep down, she knew it wouldn't be that simple.
Ethan's POV
Across the city, Ethan stood by his penthouse window, staring out into the night.
He could still hear her laugh, the way she had teased him on that dock, the warmth of her arms around his neck. God, he had been so sure they could beat the odds. But his family had been relentless, and in the end, he had caved. He had let them send her away.
His hand clenched at his side.
Seeing Emily walk into his office today had shaken him more than he wanted to admit. She looked different, older, sharper — but her eyes were the same. And they still had the power to undo him.
"Lexi," he murmured, glancing at the photo on the shelf. His wife. His duty.
And now Emily was back, not just in his life, but inside his walls, working on his project.
How am I supposed to handle this? Ethan thought, closing his eyes as the past crashed down around him.
He wasn't sure he had an answer.