POV: Vivian Chen
My hand trembles as I push through the revolving doors of Sterling Corp.
Don't look up. Don't remember. Just breathe.
But I do look up. The marble lobby stretches before me like a cathedral—cold, massive, and full of ghosts. Six years ago, I ran out of this building crying so hard I couldn't see. My mascara streaked down my face. My heart shattered into a million pieces.
Today, I walk back in wearing armor made of expensive fabric and cold determination.
"Mama, why are you squeezing my hand so tight?"
Leo's voice snaps me back to reality. I look down at my five-year-old son—his dark hair messy despite my attempts to comb it this morning, his gray eyes watching me with concern that no child should have to feel.
Those eyes. God, those eyes are exactly like his father's.
"Sorry, baby." I loosen my grip and kneel down, smoothing his collar even though it doesn't need smoothing. My hands need something to do. Something normal. "I'm just... nervous about the big announcement today."
"The one with Uncle Marcus?" Leo tilts his head. "But you said it's good news. Good news isn't scary."
If only life were that simple.
"You're right." I force a smile and cup his soft cheek. "Everything will be okay. I promise."
It's a lie. Nothing about today will be okay. But five-year-olds don't need to know that their mother is walking into a war zone disguised as a business party.
Sofia appears beside us, her heels clicking sharply on the marble floor. She's dressed in all black like she's ready for a funeral. Maybe she is. "Vivian, we're late. Marcus is already upstairs, and the press is circling like sharks."
"Let them circle." I stand up, squaring my shoulders. "I'm V.C. Laurent now. I don't run anymore."
Sofia's eyes soften for just a moment. She's the only person who knows everything—every tear I cried in Milan, every night I stayed up designing until my fingers bled, every time I almost called Ethan Sterling and then threw my phone across the room instead.
"Come on, Leo." I take my son's hand again, gentler this time. "Let's go show them what we're made of."
As we walk toward the elevators, my eyes drift to the massive windows overlooking the street. Across the road, the Jade Garden Hotel towers into the sky—all glass and steel and terrible memories.
My steps falter.
That hotel. Room 2847. The night that changed everything.
I can still remember pieces of it, like a puzzle with half the pieces missing. Claire's concerned face: "Vivian, you look sick. Come rest in this room." The dizzy feeling that made the walls spin. Waking up in unfamiliar sheets next to a man I'd only seen in business magazines.
Ethan Sterling. The CEO who was about to destroy my family's company.
The man who, nine months later, would accuse me of trapping him with a pregnancy.
The man whose son is currently tugging my hand, asking if we can get ice cream after the party.
"Mama?" Leo's voice pulls me back again. "Why do you look sad?"
I realize I've stopped walking completely. Sofia and Leo are both staring at me. The elevator doors stand open, waiting.
Get it together, Vivian. You came here for revenge, not a breakdown.
"I'm not sad, sweetheart." I step into the elevator, pulling him with me. "Just remembering something old."
The elevator rises, and so does my heart rate. Fifty-seventh floor. The executive ballroom. Where Sterling Corp announces all their major partnerships.
Where I'm about to walk in as Marcus Zhang's fiancée and Horizon Innovations' new Creative Director.
Where Claire—my lying, scheming step-sister—thinks she's won.
Where Ethan Sterling has no idea that the woman he destroyed is about to destroy him right back.
Deep breath. You've practiced this a thousand times.
The elevator dings. The doors slide open.
I can hear the crowd before I see them—laughter, champagne glasses clinking, the buzz of business deals being whispered behind fake smiles.
"Ready?" Sofia asks quietly.
No. I'm not ready. I'll never be ready to face him again.
But I nod anyway.
Leo squeezes my hand three times—our secret code. I love you.
I squeeze back three times. I love you too.
We step into the hallway. The ballroom doors stand ahead, guarded by two men in suits. Through the glass panels, I can see the crowd inside—hundreds of people in expensive clothes, all pretending they're here for business when really they're here for gossip.
They're about to get more than they bargained for.
"Ms. Chen?" One of the guards checks his tablet. "You're on the list. Go right in."
Chen. Not Laurent. Not the fake name I've hidden behind for six years.
Chen—my mother's name. The name Claire stole. The name I'm here to reclaim.
I push open the doors.
The ballroom explodes with noise and light. Chandeliers hang from the ceiling like frozen waterfalls. People cluster in groups, their heads turning as I enter.
And then, like someone turned down the volume on the world, the room starts to go quiet.
One person stops talking. Then another. Then another.
They recognize me.
The whispers start: "Is that Vivian Chen?" "I thought she left the country." "She looks so different." "Who's the kid?"
I keep walking, my heels clicking on the polished floor. Leo stays close to my side. Sofia follows like a shadow.
Across the ballroom, I see Marcus. He's standing near the stage, looking handsome and confident in his navy suit. When he spots me, he smiles and starts to wave.
But I'm not looking at Marcus.
My eyes have found someone else.
Someone tall, with dark hair and a jawline sharp enough to cut glass.
Someone wearing a perfectly tailored suit that probably costs more than most people's cars.
Someone who's standing next to my step-sister Claire, her hand resting possessively on his arm.
Ethan Sterling.
He's mid-conversation with some business executive, his expression polite but bored. Classic Ethan—present in body, but his mind is probably calculating profit margins or hostile takeovers.
And then, as if he can feel my stare, his head turns.
Our eyes meet across the crowded room.
Six years vanish in an instant.
I'm twenty-two again, waking up in his hotel room, confused and terrified.
I'm twenty-two again, standing in his office while he accuses me of being a gold-digger.
I'm twenty-two again, crying in a bathroom stall with a positive pregnancy test in my shaking hands.
But I'm also twenty-eight. I'm V.C. Laurent. I'm a mother. I'm strong.
I don't look away.
Neither does he.
Ethan's face goes completely blank—that mask he wears when he's shocked but refuses to show it. His gray eyes, the same color as Leo's, widen just a fraction.
Next to him, Claire follows his gaze. When she sees me, her perfectly painted face goes pale. Then red. Then pale again.
That's right, Claire. Your past just walked through the door.
"Mama?" Leo tugs my hand. "Everyone's looking at us."
"I know, baby. It's okay."
Marcus reaches us, playing his part perfectly. He leans down and kisses my cheek—just for show, just like we practiced. "You're late," he murmurs. "Very dramatic entrance. I approve."
"I learned from the best," I whisper back.
He takes my arm, ready to lead me to the stage for our announcement. But before we can take a single step, a deep voice cuts through the whispers.
"Vivian."
Just my name. One word. But it freezes me in place.
I turn slowly.
Ethan is walking toward us. No—walking is too gentle a word. He's moving like a wolf who's spotted prey, his eyes locked on mine with an intensity that makes my stomach flip.
Claire scrambles after him, her designer heels clicking frantically. "Ethan, wait—"
He doesn't wait. He doesn't even look at her.
He stops three feet away from me. Up close, I can see the small changes six years have made—tiny lines around his eyes, a hardness to his jaw that wasn't there before, a coldness in his expression that makes him look like he's carved from ice.
But his eyes. Oh God, his eyes are exactly the same.
"Ms. Chen." He extends his hand, his voice perfectly professional. But his eyes tell a different story—they're screaming. "I didn't realize you'd returned to Sterling City."
My hand moves automatically, taking his in a brief, businesslike handshake. His skin is warm. His grip is firm. And the touch sends electricity shooting up my arm like I've grabbed a live wire.
I pull away quickly. Too quickly.
"Mr. Sterling." My voice comes out steadier than I feel. "I returned a few weeks ago. I'm surprised you weren't informed, but I suppose Sterling Corp has bigger concerns than tracking old acquaintances."
Old acquaintances. As if we didn't create a life together.
Something flashes in Ethan's eyes. Anger? Pain? I can't tell.
Claire appears at his elbow, looping her arm through his with a possessive smile that makes me want to slap her. "Vivian! What a surprise! And you're engaged to Marcus Zhang? How... unexpected." Her voice drips with fake sweetness. "I had no idea you were back in town. Does Father know?"
"He will soon," I say coolly.
"And who's this?" Claire's eyes drop to Leo, and I see calculation in her expression. She's doing math, counting backward.
My protective instincts roar to life. I pull Leo slightly behind me.
But it's too late.
Leo, my curious, innocent, wonderful son, chooses that exact moment to look up at Ethan Sterling.
For a long second, they just stare at each other.
Then Leo turns to me, his little face scrunched up in confusion.
"Mama," he says loudly—loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "Why does that man look exactly like me?"
The whispers stop.
The entire ballroom goes silent.
I watch Ethan's face as he looks down at Leo—really looks at him—for the first time.
I watch him see the dark hair. The gray eyes. The stubborn tilt of the chin. The shape of the nose.
I watch him see himself reflected in a five-year-old boy.
I watch the exact moment Ethan Sterling realizes he's a father.
His face drains of color. His hands clench into fists at his sides. His eyes snap up to mine, and in them I see shock, fury, confusion, and something that might be hope—all crashing together like waves in a storm.
When he speaks, his voice is barely controlled. Dangerous.
"How old is he?"