Chapter 2 — The Meeting
Morning sunlight spilled through the glass doors of the Cole Enterprises tower, turning the marble floors into rivers of gold. People moved briskly through the lobby, heads bowed, voices low, afraid to draw the attention of the man who ruled the building like a quiet storm.
Ariana Blaze stood among them.
Her heels clicked steadily as she crossed the lobby, every step echoing confidence. Gone was the woman who once waited outside these doors, nervous and starry-eyed. The one who had believed that love could save her. That woman was dead.
She had been reborn with a purpose sharper than steel.
The receptionist glanced up, eyes widening. "Miss Blaze? You're—"
"Expected," Ariana said smoothly. She flashed a small smile, enough to disarm but not invite questions. "Mr. Cole is waiting, isn't he?"
"Yes, ma'am." The girl swallowed and pressed the intercom. "Miss Blaze has arrived."
A second later, the elevator doors slid open. Ariana stepped inside alone. As the doors closed, her reflection stared back at her—calm face, perfect posture, a hint of danger in her eyes.
Her heart pounded anyway.
She remembered too clearly the first time she had come here seven years ago, bright with ambition and awe. She had thought Damien Cole was untouchable, a man made of marble and mystery. He had smiled at her then—just once—and she'd fallen without a second thought.
Now she was returning not as his admirer, but as his reckoning.
The elevator chimed. Top floor.
When the doors opened, the air changed—colder, quieter, expensive. The secretaries outside his office worked in near silence, fingers flying across keyboards. Every movement was crisp, efficient, disciplined.
Ariana's eyes swept over them and stopped when she saw Selena Voss.
Her old friend looked the same as always: perfect curls, crimson lipstick, ambition shining behind her polished charm. She was standing by the assistant's desk, holding a file, laughing softly with one of the executives.
For a moment, the sight pulled Ariana backward—to nights of shared wine and whispered dreams. Then she remembered the laughter on the night she died, the sound that had followed her into the fall.
Ariana's smile returned, slow and calculated. "Selena," she said.
Selena turned, startled, her laughter dying instantly. Her eyes widened, disbelief flashing before she caught herself. "Ariana? Oh my God—what are you doing here?"
"Business," Ariana replied. "Mr. Cole invited me."
Selena blinked rapidly, trying to regain her poise. "That's… surprising. I wasn't aware you were still running your company."
"I rebuilt," Ariana said simply. "Some things refuse to stay buried."
Selena laughed nervously. "Well, good for you. Damien's very busy, you know. He doesn't meet just anyone."
"I'm aware." Ariana stepped past her, heels slicing through the silence. "That's why he called me."
The door to Damien's office opened as she reached it. His assistant gestured politely. "Mr. Cole will see you now."
Ariana entered.
---
The office was vast—walls of glass overlooking the city, dark furniture, quiet strength in every line. The scent of cedar and ink filled the air. Behind the massive desk sat Damien Cole, the man who had once been her husband.
He looked almost the same—sharp suit, colder eyes, power radiating from his stillness. Only the faintest touch of fatigue haunted his features now, something most wouldn't notice. She did.
"Miss Blaze." His tone was polite, distant. "Please, sit."
She did, crossing her legs slowly, deliberate. "Thank you, Mr. Cole."
He studied her for a moment, eyes tracing the lines of her face, the calm in her gaze. Something flickered there—recognition, perhaps, or memory—but he hid it well.
"I've reviewed your proposal," he began. "You're offering to merge your design firm with ours under a shared contract."
"Yes," she said. "My firm has technology your company lacks. You have market reach. It's mutually beneficial."
"Perhaps." He leaned back, voice low. "But what I can't understand, Miss Blaze, is how you managed to build such a profitable company in two years. No investors, no backing."
Ariana smiled faintly. "Necessity is a powerful motivator."
He tapped a pen against his desk, eyes narrowing. "You remind me of someone."
"I get that often," she replied smoothly.
He watched her in silence for a long moment. The air between them thickened—tense, electric, sharp with something unspoken. She felt his scrutiny like a hand against her skin, the same cold attention that had once made her heart skip.
Now it only fueled her resolve.
"I'll have my legal team review the merger," Damien said finally. "If everything checks out, we can proceed."
"Good," Ariana said, rising. "I'll expect your response soon."
As she turned to leave, his voice stopped her.
"Miss Blaze."
She paused, hand on the doorknob. "Yes?"
He hesitated, just enough to reveal a crack in the mask. "Have we met before?"
Ariana's lips curved slightly. "Perhaps in another life."
Then she walked out, leaving the faint scent of roses and danger behind.
---
Selena was waiting near the elevators, pretending not to watch. Ariana passed her without a glance, but as the doors closed, she saw Selena pull out her phone, whispering urgently.
Of course she would report to Damien. Of course she'd try to dig into Ariana's past.
Let her.
By the time they uncovered anything, it would be too late.
---
That night, Ariana sat in her apartment, surrounded by old documents spread across the table. Financial reports, board records, the hidden threads of her past destruction. Every line of betrayal was burned into her memory, every signature that had led to her ruin.
She had spent her first life begging for love. This one would be spent dismantling every illusion that had blinded her.
Her phone buzzed again—an unknown number.
Unknown: You move quickly, Miss Blaze. Be careful. Some ghosts don't like being disturbed.
Her pulse spiked. She typed back.
Ariana: Then I hope they're ready to be exorcised.
No reply came.
Outside, thunder grumbled faintly over the city, the same rhythm as the night she died. Ariana closed the files, her expression calm and cold.
"Let them come," she whispered.
She looked toward the window
, toward the tower that bore his name.
"Tomorrow, Damien," she said softly. "Tomorrow, you'll remember me."
---
End of Chapter 2