Leah didn't expect the day to shift so sharply.The morning had been routine — spreadsheets, calls, and the low hum of the office. But the moment the glass doors slid open, the air changed.
A woman stepped inside.Tall, poised, every movement deliberate. Her heels clicked softly against the floor as she made her way to the reception desk. Her voice carried easily — smooth, confident — when she said, "I'm here to see Adrian Grant."
Heads turned. Conversations faltered.Leah looked up from her desk, the name pulling her attention before she could stop herself. She had seen enough visitors to know when someone belonged and when someone didn't. This woman didn't belong — not in the way investors or clients did. There was something personal in the way she said his name.
A ripple of curiosity moved through the office. Whispers rose, quickly swallowed by the hum of professionalism.
From behind the glass of his office, Adrian looked up. His expression froze — not shock, not surprise exactly, but something restrained and unreadable. Slowly, he rose from his chair and opened his door.
"Clara," he said.
The sound of her name caught Leah off guard. Clara.She didn't know why the name bothered her, only that it lingered in the air like a faint note of perfume.
"Adrian." The woman smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "It's been a while."
He nodded once. "My office."
Every eye followed as he led her inside, closing the door quietly behind them.
Leah tried to focus on her screen, but her attention kept flickering toward the glass. The blinds weren't fully drawn; through the narrow gaps, she could see them talking — Clara's hands moving as she spoke, Adrian's stillness like armor.
It was odd. He looked… different. The calm precision he always carried seemed slightly off, like a man remembering something he didn't want to.
"Who's that?" someone whispered near Leah's desk.
"His ex, maybe?" another voice replied.
Leah's pulse quickened. She hated how her stomach tightened at the thought. It wasn't jealousy — not exactly. It was the realization that there were chapters in his life she didn't know about. Ones he didn't talk about.
Minutes stretched into nearly half an hour before the office door opened again. Clara stepped out first, her expression composed but her eyes sharp — the kind that measured people, even without meaning to. Her gaze brushed briefly over Leah, pausing just long enough to make Leah's skin prickle. Then she smiled — polite, distant, assessing — and left without a word.
Adrian lingered at the door.He didn't move for several seconds, his hand still on the knob, his jaw tight. When he finally returned to his desk, he didn't sit right away. Instead, he looked out the window, as though the city below might steady him.
Leah hesitated, then gathered a report in her hand — an excuse, maybe — and walked toward his office. She knocked softly.
"Come in."
He didn't turn as she entered, only spoke after a pause. "Do you need something?"
"I—just brought the new audit numbers," she said, setting the file on his desk. Her voice felt too quiet against the silence.
He glanced at the file but didn't reach for it. "Thank you."
Something about his tone was different. Controlled, but weighted. She lingered, unsure if she should say more.
"Are you all right?" she finally asked.
That made him look at her. His eyes, usually so steady, held a faint edge — not anger, not exactly — just something unsettled beneath the surface.
"I'm fine," he said, and the practiced calm in his voice was almost convincing.
Almost.
Leah didn't believe him. She didn't know why she cared so much, but the distance between them suddenly felt unbearable — not because of what might have happened, but because she wanted to understand.
"Was that someone from work?" she asked gently.
For a moment, he didn't answer. Then he exhaled. "No. Someone from… before."
The words landed heavy. Before.A whole world behind that single word.
He sat down finally, running a hand over his jaw. "It's complicated."
Leah nodded, hesitating by the chair across from him. "Complicated doesn't scare me," she said quietly.
His gaze softened — just barely. There was something in her voice, something that broke through the wall he'd built.
"She used to be part of my company. Years ago. We were—close, once." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "But we wanted different things."
Leah didn't push. She just nodded, waiting.
"She left when the company was still growing," he continued. "Wanted control. I wanted… order. It didn't end well."
There was a flicker of regret in his tone — not for losing Clara, but for the way ambition had ruined something human.
"I didn't expect her to show up again," he said finally, almost to himself.
Leah hesitated, then asked softly, "Do you want her back?"
His eyes lifted sharply to hers.The question hung in the air, bold and fragile at once.
"No," he said, his voice low, certain. "That part of my life is done."
Their eyes held for a long, quiet second. No words, just that stillness between two people who understood the weight of silence.
Leah looked away first, her pulse uneven. "Then you shouldn't let her shake you now."
That made him smile faintly — the first real smile of the morning. "You sound very sure."
"I have to be," she said, half teasing, half true. "Someone has to keep you focused."
He leaned back in his chair, watching her. "You seem to be doing a fine job of that."
She laughed softly, shaking her head. "I'm just your assistant."
His voice dropped slightly. "You're more than that."
Her heart skipped. For a moment, the noise of the office faded — the phones, the printers, the quiet shuffle of papers — all of it disappeared into that small, suspended space.
Then Adrian cleared his throat, as if realizing how far the moment had gone. "You should get back to work."
She nodded, retreating with her usual grace, though her thoughts were anything but calm.
When the door closed behind her, Adrian sat back, exhaling slowly. He wasn't sure what unsettled him more — the ghost from his past, or the quiet steadiness of the woman who stood before him now.
For the first time in a long while, he realized how dangerous it was to care — not in the reckless way he once had, but in the quiet, unspoken way that builds beneath every word.
Outside, Leah sat at her desk, pretending to type. But her hands were trembling slightly, the image of his expression still vivid in her mind — that rare flicker of vulnerability she'd never seen before.
And somewhere deep down, she knew that whatever came next between them wouldn't be simple.Because some ghosts don't just vanish — they echo.And sometimes, they echo loud enough to change everything.