"The past never disappears. It just learns to hide in the margins of the everyday."
The revolving doors of ValensCorp opened with a faint whisper, as if the building itself recognized the heiress it had avoided for years. Nora Valens stepped across the threshold with a steady stride, ignoring the greetings and furtive glances from employees who had never seen her in person, but knew instantly who she was.
Dark hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail, a flawless black suit, an unreadable expression. She was her father's mirror image—minus the charisma.
The last time she had been here, she was eight years old, her knuckles raw and bruised.This time, she was returning as CEO.
"Welcome, Ms. Valens," said the man at the reception desk with a restrained bow. "The board is waiting for you in the conference room."
"Let them wait," she replied without breaking stride. "First I want to see my office. And I need to interview the candidate for executive assistant."
"Of course. She's already arrived. I'll have her sent up as soon as you reach the sixty-third floor."
Nora gave a curt nod, eyes forward. The elevator swallowed her, and in the sterile silence of mirrored walls, she drew a long, steady breath.
Coming back hurt more than she had expected.
Her father had promised she would never have to run the company. But death doesn't sign contracts. He was gone, leaving behind a biotech empire riddled with gaps and secrets. And she had returned from London with no visible grief—only a suitcase, and a resolve carved into her rigid shoulders.
The office hadn't changed.The glass desk.The shelves lined with awards and diplomas she would never earn.The massive window overlooking the city's core.
The perfect stage for a memory she did not want.
"Ms. Valens," a voice crackled through the intercom. "The candidate is here."
"Send her in."
Nora turned toward the window. Pretending to skim through documents on her tablet, she listened instead. Every step. Every breath.
"Good morning," said a soft, feminine voice.
Nora turned slowly.
And saw her.
For a moment, the air refused to enter her lungs.
That face.
Light blonde hair. Curious eyes. Straight posture, slightly nervous. The voice… almost the same. But older now. Calmer.
"My name is Helena Kruger," she said. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
Nora said nothing at first. Her face remained unmoved. But inside, the ground had shifted.
Impossible.
"Kruger," Nora repeated, flatly.
"Yes, ma'am."
Silence stretched. Nora's eyes flicked to the candidate file. Administrative experience. Proven efficiency. Strong letter of recommendation.
But she wasn't reading that.
She was reading the name. Letting it echo, bitter and sharp.
The same girl.The same smile.Helena.
"Please, have a seat, Ms. Kruger," Nora said at last, without even a polite smile.
The chair across the glass desk was as rigid and modern as everything else in the office. Helena sat with contained elegance, crossing her legs slowly, as if afraid to make too much noise.
Nora's gaze never left her.
Is it really her?Does she not recognize me?
No. She must be pretending.
"I've reviewed your résumé," Nora began, voice low and clipped. "It's… adequate. Though I can't help but notice a rather high number of job changes in a short span."
"Yes," Helena admitted with a slight nod. "The past few years have been… unsettled. But I never stopped working, or training. I just hadn't found a place where I truly belonged."
Nora arched a brow.
"And what makes you think this is that place?"
"I don't know yet. But I have a feeling."
The silence that followed stretched thin, taut.
Nora's eyes narrowed, sharper now.
"Do you often rely on hunches?"
"Only when I have reason to trust them," Helena replied, calm and steady.
Nora tilted her head slightly. She had expected hesitation. A crack. Something.
But the woman before her was armored.
As if… as if she remembered nothing.
"Do you have a good memory?" Nora asked suddenly, like tossing a hook into murky water.
Helena blinked—a small, telling flicker Nora caught instantly.
"Excuse me?"
"Your memory. Is it good?" Nora repeated, voice almost gentle, though her gaze could have pierced stone.
"I'd say so. Especially for… useful details. I like to learn quickly."
Useful. Did that include shredding someone on a schoolyard with words so cruel they became invisible scars?
"And the memories that aren't useful?" Nora pressed. "Do you keep those too?"
A brief crease appeared between Helena's brows. It lasted less than a second before her expression returned to neutral.
"Not all of them. I suppose some things… fade with time."
Nora leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk.
"And have you lost many?"
Helena smiled—not politely, but like someone striking a match in a cold room.
"Perhaps more than I should have."
Nora's heart thudded once, hard. Like a warning drum.
Was she toying with her? Or telling the truth?
"Do you believe in second chances, Ms. Kruger?"
"I believe in honest beginnings," Helena said, eyes unflinching. "Second chances imply you failed the first time. Sometimes it's not that simple."
Nora felt something twist deep inside her. That way of speaking. That calm. That voice.
It was her. It had to be her.
And yet—not a trace of remorse on her face. Not a flicker of recognition.
"Curious," Nora said at last, voice cool, almost detached. "Because you do seem… vaguely familiar."
Helena's eyes widened slightly. Then she blinked and gave a small, uneasy smile.
"Really? Perhaps we crossed paths before. I've lived in many places, though I'm not the best at remembering faces from years ago."
Nora's fingers turned cold.
A lie?The truth?Manipulation?Or consequence?
"Perhaps it's only a coincidence," Nora said, feigning indifference while the pressure in her chest burned. "The world is smaller than it seems."
The silence that followed was heavier than before.
"Anything else you'd like to add?" Nora asked, curt.
"Only this," Helena replied firmly. "If you choose me, I won't let you down. I have a strong work ethic. And I adapt quickly to whatever is required."
"We'll see about that," Nora muttered, standing.
Helena rose too. For a heartbeat, they faced each other without the desk between them.
Eight years compressed into the space between their bodies.
"Thank you for the interview," Helena said, extending her hand.
Nora hesitated.
At last, she took it. Brief. Cold.
"We'll be in touch," was all she said.
Helena left, closing the door gently behind her.
Nora remained standing. Motionless. Staring into nothing.
It was her.
But if she truly didn't remember…Where were the memories?
And more unsettling still—
What kind of person forgets destroying someone else?