I ignore that. My brain is still buffering, because there’s no fucking way. I pace across the room slowly, one hand on my jaw.
Iris Desmond.
Inmycountry.
Inmybuilding.
The same woman I haven’t heard from for almost ten years. The same woman I never got to explain anything to. The one who broke up with me in a stupid letter—merely weeks before we were supposed to move to Vancouver together.
“Why would she behere?” I mutter aloud, mostly to myself.
Taewon answers anyway, his shoulder lifting in a shrug. “She’s listed as the senior M&A strategy consultant on file. Grace Miller’s shadow, basically. I only learned that today.”
I swallow hard.
Of course.Of courseshe is. A Stanford MBA would never fail a woman like her.
But dammit, she’s not just here to audit spreadsheets and sign NDAs. She had to have known exactly who she’d be consulting with, for the merger between Wentworths and fuckingAstorHoldings.
Which means—
“Fuck,” I whisper. “She knew, huh.”
“Knew what?”
“She knew she’d be working with me. Miller-Moore approached us, remember? She’s definitely known for weeks—probably longer.”
And I had no idea.
Something twists deep in my chest. Because if Iris had known about this meeting and still agreed to show up, then that’s not entirely professional. That’s something else. Something I don’t know how to read.
Is it reconciliation? Curiosity? Closure? Or something else entirely?
“They can be here by six,” Taewon says gently. “I can postpone if you want—”
“No.” My voice cuts sharper than I intend. “No, I’ll… we’ll do this. It’s fine.”
It’s not.
A beat of silence.
“Okay,” he says finally, then adds, “I’ll get the conference room prepped.”
After he walks out of my office, I stare at the documents strewn across my desk. Documents that are taking a different meaning altogether. Weaving themselves with a shadow of my past. A love that never got to live past the fleeting moments in lecture halls and ice-cream runs.
Then I walk to the mirrored console in my office, tug my cuffs, and stare at the man staring back.
He’s paler than usual.
Tighter.Older.
He doesn’t look ready for a confrontation. He looks like a man who buried a part of himself nearly a decade ago.
Only to find out she’s come back with a fucking briefcase.
??????
TEN YEARS AGO
