Ethan Lu stood before the mirror in his penthouse suite, adjusting the cufflinks on his charcoal-grey suit. He looked perfect — as always. But perfection was just another mask he had mastered over the years.
Behind those cold, unreadable eyes lived a storm he refused to acknowledge.
His assistant's voice echoed through the intercom:
"Sir, the board meeting starts in fifteen minutes."
"Tell them to wait," he said, buttoning his jacket slowly. His gaze flickered to a photo on his desk — a forgotten frame tucked behind a pile of contracts.
It was her.
Lara.
The image was old. Before everything fell apart. Before the accident. Before the silence.
He picked it up, running a thumb over the smiling face of the woman who once called him husband.
Ethan Lu, the man feared by executives and envied by rivals, had once believed in love. But love had proven to be fragile — easily broken, and even more easily erased.
Or so he thought.
Until three days ago... when Lara walked back into his life.
Alive.
Unapologetic.
Beautiful.
Changed.
He hadn't spoken to her yet. Their paths hadn't crossed — not directly. But her presence echoed through the halls of Lu Corporation like a ghost refusing to be buried.
And it unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
Ethan placed the photo face-down and straightened his tie, the muscles in his jaw tightening. He had buried that chapter of his life, locked it away with every other weakness he'd vowed never to feel again.
And yet…
When he saw her across the conference room floor — confident, elegant, sharp — something shifted.
She hadn't just returned.
She had evolved.
Gone was the soft-spoken wife who once waited for him at home, asking little, forgiving everything. The woman now walking these halls carried steel in her spine and fire in her eyes.
She was no longer his.
And that infuriated him.
It wasn't just her sudden return. It was the way people looked at her — with curiosity, admiration, even fear. She was no longer a shadow. She was a threat. And if there was one thing Ethan didn't tolerate, it was unpredictability.
A knock pulled him from his thoughts.
His assistant entered, hesitant.
"Sir, she's requested to attend the board meeting today. She said she has a proposal to present."
Ethan didn't blink. "Let her in."
The assistant froze, unsure. "Should I—?"
"I said let her in."
As the door closed again, Ethan walked to the window, staring out at the skyline like a king watching over his empire.
She wanted war?
He welcomed it.
But even kings forget that ghosts don't come back to haunt — they come back to destroy.
The door creaked open behind him. Ethan didn't turn right away. He knew her steps—measured, elegant, deliberate. They used to echo in his memory like a melody he could never forget.
Now they were a warning.
"Mr. Lu," Lara's voice rang clear, calm, unshaken. "I trust I'm not interrupting."
He turned slowly.
There she was.
Clad in a dark navy suit that hugged her silhouette with power and grace, she stood tall, shoulders squared, chin lifted. Her eyes—those same eyes that once softened when they looked at him—now held no warmth.
Only defiance.
"Not at all," he said coolly. "We were just about to begin."
Their eyes locked, and the tension was thick enough to silence the room. The board members watched in silence, sensing something deeper than business brewing between them.
"I've prepared a proposal," Lara said, walking to the head of the table. "A strategy to double Lu Corporation's overseas market influence in under twelve months."
No hesitation. No stutter. No seeking approval.
Ethan narrowed his gaze. She was playing his game — and playing it well.
But she wasn't here to impress the board.
She was here for him.
To prove something.
To challenge him.
To remind him that she wasn't the same woman he left behind.
He folded his arms, voice low.
"And what's your angle, Lara?"
Her lips curved slightly. Not a smile — a warning.
"You'll see," she said. "I'm just getting started."
And for the first time in years, Ethan Lu felt something foreign stir beneath his cold composure.
Fear?
No.
Something worse.
Regret.