The room was quiet except for the ticking of the antique clock on the wall. Arabella stood frozen near the window, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she tried to make sense of the emotional storm raging inside her.
Elina sat silently on the edge of the bed, watching her friend's face twist with pain and confusion. She had known Arabella long enough to understand that when she went quiet like this, it meant she was barely holding herself together.
"I didn't expect to see him today," Arabella finally whispered, her voice hoarse. "He just showed up out of nowhere, like a ghost from the past."
Elina frowned. "What did he say?"
Arabella turned to face her, eyes shimmering with unspoken emotion. "Nothing much. Just the usual cold indifference masked behind polite words. But there was something in his eyes, Elina. I could see the questions he wasn't asking."
Elina stood and walked over to her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You did the right thing by walking away from that man. Don't let him get under your skin again."
Arabella nodded slowly. "It's just… seeing him brought back everything. The betrayal, the pain. And I'm scared, Elina. I'm terrified that he'll somehow discover the truth about Aiden."
The name hung in the air like thunder waiting to strike.
Elina squeezed her shoulder. "You've come this far protecting your son. You're stronger now, wiser. No one's taking him from you."
Arabella's heart ached. Every choice she had made over the past few years had been for her son. The little boy she had carried in secret, raised in quiet devotion, and shielded from the world that had once destroyed her.
But fate had a cruel sense of irony. Just as she had found her rhythm in life, fate had brought Damien back into her orbit.
And he was no longer just the man she once loved. He was now a powerful billionaire with the means to uncover secrets.
Arabella took a shaky breath. "I need to be prepared. If Damien starts digging, it won't take long for him to find out I'm not who I say I am."
Elina looked at her thoughtfully. "You could tell him the truth."
Arabella turned sharply. "No. He can't know about Aiden. Not now. Not ever."
"But what if he finds out from someone else?" Elina asked gently. "Wouldn't it be better coming from you?"
Arabella's jaw clenched. "He lost the right to be part of my life when he let me walk away pregnant and alone."
Elina didn't press the matter further. She understood Arabella's anger, even if a part of her wondered how long secrets could be buried before they rose to the surface.
Later that evening, after Elina had gone home, Arabella sat alone in her small living room, scrolling through job listings on her laptop. Her freelance marketing gig had kept her afloat, but with Aiden growing up, expenses were mounting.
She knew she had to make a move. Fast.
A soft knock on the door jolted her from her thoughts.
She glanced at the time — 9:12 PM.
Her heart skipped. "Who could that be?"
She opened the door slightly, the chain still latched. But what she saw made her breath catch in her throat.
Damien.
He stood there in a black tailored suit, looking like he had just walked out of a high-end magazine spread. His eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her stomach tighten.
"Arabella," he said, voice low. "We need to talk."
Her fingers tightened on the door. "How do you even know where I live?"
He gave a small, sardonic smile. "You forgot I own half of this city."
Her pulse quickened. She unlatched the chain and opened the door slightly more but blocked the entrance with her body.
"I don't think we have anything to talk about."
"I disagree," he said, stepping slightly forward. "I know who you are, Arabella. Or should I say… Isabella?"
The blood drained from her face.
She stared at him in stunned silence, heart racing, her carefully constructed life beginning to unravel before her eyes.
"You disappeared without a trace five years ago," he continued. "And now here you are, living under a new name, hiding in plain sight."
Arabella swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. "You shouldn't be here."
Damien's eyes softened, if only slightly. "Why did you run from me?"
Her body tensed. "You think I ran? I was forced to leave. I was discarded like I never mattered."
"That's not true," Damien said quickly. "I looked for you. I—"
"No," she snapped. "You didn't. Or if you did, it was too little too late. I begged you to believe in me, and you turned your back."
Silence fell between them, heavy and suffocating.
Damien sighed. "I came here to offer you something."
She raised an eyebrow. "What? An apology wrapped in a business proposition?"
He reached into his coat and pulled out a document.
"I need a personal assistant. Someone I can trust. You're the only one who's ever been brutally honest with me. And I need someone like that right now."
Arabella blinked. "Are you seriously offering me a job?"
"It pays well," he said simply. "You can use the money for… whatever matters most to you."
Aiden. The unspoken word echoed in her mind.
She stared at the contract, torn between pride and necessity.
Working for Damien meant danger — not the kind that involved guns or crime, but emotional danger. Being close to him could unravel everything she had built to protect her son.
"I'll think about it," she said finally.
He nodded, almost as if he expected her hesitation. "I'll be at the penthouse tomorrow. Come by if you decide."
He left without another word.
Arabella closed the door behind him and slumped against it, her mind spinning.
This wasn't part of the plan. He wasn't supposed to return. And he definitely wasn't supposed to offer her a job that could jeopardize everything.
---
The next morning, Arabella stood in front of her mirror wearing the most professional outfit she could find. A crisp white blouse tucked into a navy pencil skirt, paired with low heels.
She hated how much effort she was putting into looking good for a man who had once broken her heart.
But this wasn't about Damien. It was about survival.
She dropped Aiden off with Elina, who raised an eyebrow but didn't question her sudden errand.
Then she headed to the address Damien had written down.
The towering glass building was exactly what she expected. Imposing. Cold. Unforgiving.
Just like him.
A secretary led her up to the 35th floor, where Damien's office overlooked the skyline. The view was breathtaking — a constant reminder of how far removed his world was from hers.
He looked up from his desk when she entered, eyes scanning her from head to toe.
"You came."
"I'm not here to reminisce," she said coolly. "I need the job."
He stood and handed her a pen. "Then sign. But understand this, Arabella — this job comes with conditions."
She paused. "What kind of conditions?"
He stepped closer, his voice low and serious. "No lies. No more running. If you're going to be in my world again, I need the truth. All of it."
Arabella's fingers tightened on the pen.
The truth?
She glanced at the contract. A new job. A better life for Aiden. A chance to finally stand on her own two feet.
And the price?
Trust.
She looked up at Damien and said, "Fine. But trust is a two-way street, Damien. If you want mine, you'll have to earn it."
Then she signed the contract.
And just like that, the door to her past opened wide — and Arabella stepped right through it.
Arabella's eyes stayed fixed on the skyline beyond the office windows, her reflection barely visible in the glass. Her pulse was racing, not from fear but from the overwhelming flood of memories and emotions that refused to let her rest. She had fought hard to bury Isabella's past, but that past was clawing its way to the surface.
She took a deep breath and turned to face Elina. "I don't know if I'm ready to tell him everything."
Elina leaned against the edge of the desk, folding her arms. "You don't have to do it all at once. But Arabella, he deserves the truth—especially if he's starting to care for you."
Arabella gave a bitter laugh. "Care? He barely knows me. And if he did... if he knew I was the same woman who disappeared from his life five years ago—how would he react?"
"You think he wouldn't forgive you?" Elina asked gently.
"I don't know," she whispered. "Maybe I don't want to find out."
Just then, her phone buzzed. A message flashed on the screen.
> Nathaniel: Meet me at the rooftop restaurant tonight. 7 PM.
Arabella's heart skipped. It wasn't like him to ask her out without context. It felt... personal.
Elina peered over her shoulder. "You're going, right?"
Arabella hesitated. "What if he's starting to piece things together? What if tonight is the night he confronts me?"
"Then maybe," Elina said, "it's time you stop running."
That evening, the rooftop restaurant glittered under the soft glow of fairy lights and city reflections. Arabella arrived dressed in a sleek navy gown, the color deepening the mystery in her eyes. She spotted Nathaniel at a private table by the edge, dressed in his usual tailored suit but looking more relaxed than ever before.
"You're early," she said as she approached.
"I wanted to watch the sunset," Nathaniel replied, standing to pull her chair out. "With you."
The gesture caught her off-guard. This was different. This wasn't about work.
"I figured we deserved one night without business," he added as the waiter poured them wine.
Arabella managed a smile. "That sounds nice."
For a while, they talked lightly—about the restaurant, the view, even some of the more ridiculous office rumors. But then, Nathaniel's expression shifted.
"I have a question," he said, voice quieter now. "And I want you to be honest."
Arabella's fingers tightened around her glass. "Okay..."
"Why do you always look like you're afraid of being seen?"
The question hit harder than she expected. She didn't speak, afraid her voice would betray the storm inside her.
Nathaniel leaned forward. "You don't have to answer if you're not ready. But Arabella... I notice things. You flinch when someone mentions the past. You avoid cameras. And sometimes, when you look at me, it's like you're seeing someone else."
She inhaled shakily. "You're not wrong. I have secrets. But they're not easy to talk about."
"I can wait," he said gently. "But I won't stop caring just because you're afraid."
Arabella blinked, stunned. "You care?"
"I think I do," he admitted. "More than I should."
Her throat tightened. The truth danced on the edge of her lips—but still, she couldn't bring herself to speak it.
Nathaniel reached across the table, his fingers brushing hers. "When you're ready, tell me everything. And no matter what it is... I won't walk away."
And for the first time in a long while, Arabella believed him.