The Grand Pacific Hotel rose above the city like a monument to luxury. Glass and steel, gleaming in the morning light.
The sedan pulled under the portico. Elara stepped out, smoothing her blazer. Thomas followed, tablet in hand. Behind them, a young man—one of the junior architects—and two female colleagues. One of them, Elara recognized: Linda from Corporate Strategy. The other was a newer face, maybe from the design team.
They gathered at the entrance just as a sleek black town car pulled up behind them.
Phoebe Ma stepped out, phone pressed to her ear. She ended the call with a quick tap and nodded at Elara.
"Right on time. Let's go."
They walked into the lobby together—polished marble floors, a chandelier the size of a small car, staff in crisp uniforms.
Phoebe approached the front desk. "Blizzard Engineering. We're here for the 11:00 meeting."
The receptionist smiled. "Yes, ma'am. The entire 14th floor has been booked for your meeting. The private elevator is to your left. The hotel manager will meet you upstairs."
Phoebe thanked her and led the team toward the elevator.
---
The ride up was quiet. Elara's stomach tightened with each passing floor.
14th floor. Whole floor booked. This CEO doesn't do small.
The elevator doors opened onto a wide, elegantly appointed corridor. Soft lighting. Cream walls. A single reception desk at the far end, currently empty.
A man in a tailored suit approached them immediately—hotel manager, by his badge. He smiled warmly.
"Good day. You're here for the meeting booked under Mr. Maxwell, correct?"
Elara's team exchanged confused glances.
Mr. Maxwell?
The elevator doors opened onto a wide, elegantly appointed corridor. Soft lighting. Cream walls. A single reception desk at the far end, currently empty.
A man in a tailored suit approached them immediately—hotel manager, by his badge. He smiled warmly.
"Good day. You're here for the meeting booked under Mr. Maxwell, correct?"
Elara's team exchanged confused glances.
Mr. Maxwell?
The manager noticed their hesitation and simply smiled. "I mean, Blizzard Engineering meeting."
Phoebe nodded smoothly. "Yes, we're here for Blizzard Engineering."
"Right this way." The manager gestured toward a set of double doors at the end of the hall. "The conference room is prepared. Refreshments are inside. The firm's representatives are already present. The CEO should be joining shortly."
Elara's heart hammered.
Still anonymous. Even now.
They walked down the corridor, footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. The manager pushed open the double doors, revealing a spacious conference room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
A long mahogany table dominated the room. On one side, three people sat—a woman with a laptop, a man in a sharp suit, and another woman reviewing papers. They looked up as Elara's team entered.
Phoebe stepped forward first, extending her hand.
"Good morning. Phoebe Ma, CEO of Phoenix Architects. Thank you for agreeing to meet with us."
The woman with the laptop stood and shook her hand. "We're pleased to have you. Please, sit. The CEO will be here any moment."
Elara took a seat near the middle of the table, placing her portfolio in front of her. Thomas sat to her right. Linda to her left. The others filled in around them.
She set her phone to silent. Took a breath. And waited.
The clock on the wall read 10:58.
Two minutes.
At exactly 11:00 ,
The door opened.
A man walked in—perfectly dressed, every detail in place. Navy blue suit, crisp tie, black-rimmed glasses resting on his face. He was handsome, no doubt about that. The women already seated at the table glanced up, and more than one of them seemed to pause.
He reached the head of the table and smiled politely.
"Welcome," he said, nodding at Elara and her team. "Good morning. It's nice to meet you all."
Phoebe Ma stood and extended her hand. "Thank you. You are the CEO of Blizzard?"
He shook his head. "Oh, that's not me. I'm not the CEO. I'm just the chief secretary. Please, have your seat."
He gestured for them to settle back down.
"The CEO is running late," he continued. "He had some unavoidable meetings to complete this morning. But please, carry on with the meeting. He will be here very soon."
He took a seat at the side of the table, opened a notebook, and waited.
Elara exchanged a quick glance with Phoebe Ma.
Phoebe gave her a small nod—the signal. Go.
Elara stood up, walked to the front of the room, and positioned herself beside the projector. Her heart was beating fast, but she had prepared for this. She knew exactly what to say.
She took a deep breath.
"Good morning, everyone," she began. "My name is Elara May, and I'm representing Phoenix Architects. We are here to draft the plan for the new hotel."
She clicked to the first slide.
"I'll begin by explaining how the design is going to take shape."
Elara clicked to the next slide and continued.
"The hotel won't just be a place to sleep," she said, her voice steady and confident. "It will be a destination. A tourist attraction. We want to showcase the culture and beliefs of Fordland City—its art, its traditions, its people. Every corner of this building will tell a story."
She gestured to the renderings on the screen. A grand entrance inspired by local weaving patterns. A restaurant shaped like a traditional meeting hut. A rooftop garden with indigenous plants.
The Blizzard team nodded as they flipped through the physical files in front of them. The woman with the laptop whispered something to her colleague. The man in the sharp suit made a note on his pad.
Even the chief secretary, behind his black-rimmed glasses, seemed impressed.
Elara's confidence grew with each passing minute.
---
The meeting stretched on.
She walked them through the structural design. The eco-friendly materials. The integration of smart technology. The projected timeline and budget.
Questions came. She answered them all.
Phoebe watched from her seat, a small smile tugging at her lips.
By the time Elara reached the final slide, the clock on the wall read just past 12.
"And that," Elara said, "is the vision we want to build—together."
She was about to open the floor for final questions when—
Knock. Knock.
The door at the far end of the room opened.
A man stepped inside.
He was tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed in a charcoal suit, no tie, his dark hair perfectly in place. Black-rimmed glasses. A face that was handsome in a way that seemed almost unfair.
He scanned the room calmly, then smiled—a small, apologetic curve of his lips.
"Good afternoon, everyone," he said. "I apologize for my tardiness."
His voice was low, smooth, and painfully familiar.
"I'm Jonas Stoddard, the CEO of Blizzard Engineers."
Everyone in the room stood immediately—out of respect, out of surprise. Chairs scraped against the floor. Hands reached out to shake his.
But Elara didn't move.
Jonas Stoddard.
The name echoed inside her skull.
Jonas. Stoddard.
CEO of Blizzard.
Her Jonas.
No.
It can't be.
A thousand thoughts crashed through her head. Her chest tightened. Her breath caught in her throat.
It can't be him. Not here. Not now. Not like this.
Slowly, almost against her will, she turned around to face the CEO.
And there he was.
Seven years. Thinner at the jaw. Broader at the shoulders. Glasses she had never seen him wear. But those eyes. That face. That way he stood with his weight slightly on one hip.
Jonas.
Her hand went numb.
The laser pointer slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor.
Clack.
Everyone turned.
Elara stood frozen, her face pale, her lips parted in a silent gasp.
The room went very, very quiet.
And Jonas—Jonas Stoddard, her ex-husband, the father of her child, the man she had divorced years ago—looked at her.
His expression didn't change.
But his eyes. His eyes held something she couldn't name.
The silence stretched like a wire about to snap.