Elena stood frozen before the polished glass doors of Callahan Holdings' executive floor. Her heart thudded so hard in her chest she could hear it echo in her ears. The walls around her, sleek with marble and chrome, felt like a cage—one she had voluntarily walked into.
Behind those doors was the man who had once broken her heart and unknowingly fathered her child.
Leonard Callahan.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she adjusted the strap of her leather handbag. It had taken all her strength to walk back into this world—a world of power suits, ruthless negotiations, and soulless skyscrapers. But the real battle was just beginning.
With a deep breath, she pushed the doors open.
The room was modern, expansive, and intimidatingly silent. Sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting golden hues across the room's granite floors. And there he was—Leonard—standing near the window, dressed in a dark charcoal suit that fit him like a second skin.
He looked like power itself. Untouchable. Cold.
And yet, his presence sent a jolt straight through her spine.
"Elena Monroe," he said, his voice low and sharp as a blade.
His tone wasn't welcoming. It was laced with disbelief, anger, and something else she couldn't name.
She swallowed hard. "Mr. Callahan."
The corner of his mouth twitched—not in amusement. In disdain. "So it's true. You're back from the dead."
"I never died," she replied, keeping her tone even. "I simply left."
"For five years," he said, stepping closer. "Without a word."
She didn't flinch as he approached, though her nerves screamed at her to retreat. "You were getting married. There was nothing more to say."
His jaw clenched. "You disappeared."
"And you married someone else."
The words hung in the air like smoke—thick, bitter, and hard to breathe through.
Leonard's expression darkened. "You don't get to come back after five years and throw that at me. You made your choice."
So did you, she wanted to scream, but she kept the words buried deep.
Instead, she stepped forward. "I'm here for Riverlight Media. I built it from the ground up. You may have acquired the company, but you didn't build what I did. And I'm not going to let you tear it down."
His gaze dropped briefly to her mouth before locking back on her eyes. "You think I'm here to destroy it?"
"I know how you operate," she said. "You buy and absorb. You gut what doesn't serve you."
He turned away, as if her presence irritated him. "Riverlight has potential. But you? You're a liability."
"Then why am I here?"
Leonard walked to his desk and picked up a file. "Because I want to see what you're capable of—under my command."
She blinked. "You're offering me a position?"
"I'm not offering. I'm assigning." He tossed the folder onto the glass table between them. "You'll head the Digital Strategy division. You'll report directly to me."
She stared at the folder, then at him. "Why? Why give me anything at all?"
His gaze didn't waver. "Because I want answers."
Elena's breath caught.
"You left without explanation," he continued. "No calls. No letters. You vanished. Now you're back, under a different name, acting like nothing happened."
"I had my reasons."
"Then you'll explain them. Eventually."
She crossed her arms. "And if I refuse to work under you?"
He shrugged. "Then Riverlight dies."
A war brewed in her chest. This wasn't just about pride. Riverlight was more than a company—it was her escape, her sanctuary, her survival. She had poured her soul into it.
And if she wanted to protect it—and her child—she had to play this dangerous game.
"Fine," she said, picking up the folder. "But don't think for one second you can intimidate me."
Leonard's eyes glinted. "I don't need to intimidate you. You already look terrified."
She turned on her heel and walked toward the door, hiding the way her knees threatened to buckle. But just as her hand touched the handle, he said—
"By the way…"
She paused.
"I saw your interview last week," he said. "You've changed, Elena. But some things? They never stay buried for long."
Her chest tightened.
He wasn't just talking about their past.
He was getting close to the truth.
And if he ever found out about Eli, the little boy with his father's eyes and her stubborn will…
No. She wouldn't let that happen.
---
The office they assigned her was spacious but soulless. She sat at the sleek glass desk, staring at the screen, trying to focus on numbers and reports.
But her mind kept returning to that look in Leonard's eyes—sharp, knowing.
Was he suspicious?
Had someone told him?
She sighed and pulled out her phone.
There was only one message.
Aunt May: Eli's fine. He asked if you'll be home for dinner.
Elena smiled faintly, her heart softening. Her son. Her world.
Text back: Yes. Tell him I'll bring him his favorite cookies.
She placed the phone down, steadying her breath.
No matter what happened in this building, no matter how Leonard tried to rattle her, she couldn't forget her purpose.
Protect Eli. Always.
---
Two days later, the tension hadn't eased.
Leonard was merciless. He scheduled meetings at odd hours, micromanaged her projects, and seemed determined to remind her she was under his control.
And yet, there were moments—fleeting, dangerous moments—when his cold mask cracked.
Like when their hands brushed accidentally at the elevator panel and he'd withdrawn too quickly.
Or when she caught him staring too long during the Monday briefing, his jaw tight, his thoughts unreadable.
She told herself it didn't matter.
Until one late evening, when he showed up at her office door.
"Elena."
She looked up, startled. He wasn't in a suit jacket. His sleeves were rolled up, tie loosened. He looked… tired. Human.
"Yes?"
He stepped inside without permission. "We need to talk."
Her heartbeat quickened. "About what?"
"Five years ago," he said. "You left. And I want to know why."
She closed her laptop slowly. "I don't owe you anything."
"You owe me the truth."
"No," she said, standing. "I owe my son the life he deserves. And I gave it to him the only way I could."
Leonard blinked. "Son?"
She froze.
His eyes narrowed. "You said 'son.'"
Damn. Her pulse raced.
"I meant—" She backtracked. "It's none of your business."
He stepped closer. "You have a child?"
"I didn't come here to discuss my personal life."
"Answer me."
She clenched her fists. "Yes. I have a son. And no, he's not your concern."
He stared at her like he was seeing her for the first time. "How old is he?"
"Old enough."
"Elena," he said, voice low, deadly calm. "Is he mine?"
The question sliced through the air.
She turned away. "This conversation is over."
"You're not denying it."
She gripped the desk behind her. "Because I don't owe you an explanation. Not anymore."
Leonard's voice dropped to a whisper. "If he's mine, I have a right to know."
"You lost that right the day you married someone else," she said, whirling on him, voice shaking. "I was alone, Leonard. Scared. And I had no one. I made the only choice I could."
His expression faltered. Pain flickered in his eyes.
But he recovered quickly. "You should've told me."
"I tried!" she shouted. "You wouldn't listen. You thought I was trying to sabotage your engagement. You humiliated me. Remember?"
Silence.
The memory hit them both like a wave—his cold words, her tear-streaked face, the crowd of colleagues watching her crumble.
He closed his eyes briefly. "I remember."
"Good," she said, grabbing her bag. "Because I'll never forget."
She brushed past him, refusing to let him see the tears threatening to spill.
Behind her, he said quietly, "I want to meet him."
She stopped in the doorway.
"No," she whispered.
"Elena."
She turned. "Not yet. He doesn't know you. And I won't let you waltz in and confuse him. You had five years to be his father. You don't get to demand it now."
And with that, she walked away.