Chapter 4
Four years later.
"Ms. Cole, the New York office is requesting your presence at the Meridian Tower project launch."
My assistant, James, set the invitation on my glass desk.
I leaned back in my chair, looking out at the London skyline through floor-to-ceiling windows.
Four years had remade me entirely.
I was now the founding partner of Cole & Harding Architecture, one of Europe's most sought-after luxury design firms. My name was on skyscrapers in Dubai, Paris, and Singapore.
And I was raising two children alone.
Twins. A boy and a girl.
Lucas had his father's dark eyes and stubborn jaw. Lily had my lighter coloring but Dominic's intensity when she focused.
They were three years old and had never met their father.
"Who sent the invitation?" I asked without turning.
"Ashford Industries. They're the primary developer on the Meridian Tower. Apparently, they specifically requested your firm."
My pen stopped mid-signature.
"Did they request me by name?"
"The firm, not you personally. But as founding partner, your presence is expected."
I was quiet for a long moment.
Four years of building myself up. Four years of silence. Four years of watching from across an ocean as "Vivienne" inserted herself deeper into Dominic's life.
They weren't married. That detail had surprised me.
According to Natasha's ongoing intel, Dominic had never proposed to her. In fact, their relationship seemed increasingly strained.
But he hadn't come looking for me either.
"James," I said. "Accept the invitation."
It was time to go home.
One week later, JFK Airport.
New York hadn't changed. The air still tasted like ambition and exhaust.
But I had.
The woman who stepped out of the black car at the Ashford Industries headquarters bore no resemblance to the broken girl who had fled four years ago.
My hair was shorter, sharper. My posture commanded attention. The quiet deference Dominic had mistaken for weakness had been burned away entirely.
"Ms. Cole?" A young assistant met me in the lobby. "Mr. Ashford is ready for you in the 40th-floor conference room."
My heels clicked against the marble floor, each step measured and deliberate.
The elevator rose, and with each floor, my heartbeat accelerated.
But my face remained stone.
The conference room doors opened.
And there he was.
Dominic Ashford stood at the head of a long mahogany table, reviewing blueprints with his team.
Four years had sharpened him too. More grey at his temples. Deeper lines around his mouth. He looked... tired.
And on his left hand, no wedding ring. But I noticed something else.
A thin scar on his ring finger, right where a band would sit. As if he'd torn one off violently.
"Ah, the team from Cole and Harding," he said without looking up. "Please, take a seat. We'll begin shortly."
I pulled out a chair and sat down, crossing my legs.
"Actually," I said, my voice cutting through the murmur of assistants, "I prefer to start now. My time is expensive, Mr. Ashford."
Dominic's head snapped up.
Our eyes met across the conference table.
I watched the recognition hit him like a freight train.
His face went white.
"Serena?"
"Ms. Cole, the New York office is requesting your presence at the Meridian Tower project launch."
My assistant, James, set the invitation on my glass desk.
I leaned back in my chair, looking out at the London skyline through floor-to-ceiling windows.
Four years had remade me entirely.
I was now the founding partner of Cole & Harding Architecture, one of Europe's most sought-after luxury design firms. My name was on skyscrapers in Dubai, Paris, and Singapore.
And I was raising two children alone.
Twins. A boy and a girl.
Lucas had his father's dark eyes and stubborn jaw. Lily had my lighter coloring but Dominic's intensity when she focused.
They were three years old and had never met their father.
"Who sent the invitation?" I asked without turning.
"Ashford Industries. They're the primary developer on the Meridian Tower. Apparently, they specifically requested your firm."
My pen stopped mid-signature.
"Did they request me by name?"
"The firm, not you personally. But as founding partner, your presence is expected."
I was quiet for a long moment.
Four years of building myself up. Four years of silence. Four years of watching from across an ocean as "Vivienne" inserted herself deeper into Dominic's life.
They weren't married. That detail had surprised me.
According to Natasha's ongoing intel, Dominic had never proposed to her. In fact, their relationship seemed increasingly strained.
But he hadn't come looking for me either.
"James," I said. "Accept the invitation."
It was time to go home.
One week later, JFK Airport.
New York hadn't changed. The air still tasted like ambition and exhaust.
But I had.
The woman who stepped out of the black car at the Ashford Industries headquarters bore no resemblance to the broken girl who had fled four years ago.
My hair was shorter, sharper. My posture commanded attention. The quiet deference Dominic had mistaken for weakness had been burned away entirely.
"Ms. Cole?" A young assistant met me in the lobby. "Mr. Ashford is ready for you in the 40th-floor conference room."
My heels clicked against the marble floor, each step measured and deliberate.
The elevator rose, and with each floor, my heartbeat accelerated.
But my face remained stone.
The conference room doors opened.
And there he was.
Dominic Ashford stood at the head of a long mahogany table, reviewing blueprints with his team.
Four years had sharpened him too. More grey at his temples. Deeper lines around his mouth. He looked... tired.
And on his left hand, no wedding ring. But I noticed something else.
A thin scar on his ring finger, right where a band would sit. As if he'd torn one off violently.
"Ah, the team from Cole and Harding," he said without looking up. "Please, take a seat. We'll begin shortly."
I pulled out a chair and sat down, crossing my legs.
"Actually," I said, my voice cutting through the murmur of assistants, "I prefer to start now. My time is expensive, Mr. Ashford."
Dominic's head snapped up.
Our eyes met across the conference table.
I watched the recognition hit him like a freight train.
His face went white.
"Serena?"