LUCAS POV
I didn't regret many things in this life.
Regret was a luxury for men who didn't have to fight to survive.
But as I stepped out of James Petrakis's office earlier that day, something heavy settled in my chest and refused to move.
The night air was cold and sharp, but it did nothing to clear my head.
I loosened my tie as I stepped into the elevator of my company building, jaw tight as I clocked out for the day.
The deal had been simple. Logical. Necessary.
So why did it feel like I had crossed a line I couldn't return from?
I hadn't gone there for her. I had gone for the money.
My father taught me one rule early in life: never let a debt linger. Debt breeds disrespect.
When he retired and handed the company to me, he also handed me everything unfinished - every loose end, every favor owed, every unpaid loan.
One name in the ledger stood out.
James Petrakis.
An old debt my father had never pushed to collect.
But when I saw the name, a memory surfaced - a little girl watching me from across a garden years ago.
I hadn't thought about her in a long time.
Yet somehow, the thought led me straight to James's company and eventually to his office.
James greeted me warmly when I entered.
"Lucas, my boy! You've grown so much," he said with a smile. "Come, sit."
I sat across from him. He looked older now, his grey hair more noticeable, but he still carried the same presence I remembered from childhood.
"What a surprise seeing you here," he continued. "How's your father?"
"He finally stepped down as CEO," I replied. "He's enjoying retirement."
James laughed. "I can't imagine that stubborn man sitting still for long."
Then he leaned back in his chair and studied me.
"So... what brings you here?"
The room grew quiet.
"I hear you owe my father money," I said calmly. "Or rather... you owe me now. I'm here to collect. No offense, James. It's just business."
My eyes drifted to a photograph on his desk.
A young woman in a floral dress smiled at the camera.
She was beautiful.
James noticed my gaze and chuckled.
"You remember my daughter, Rose."
Rose.
The name brought back a memory I hadn't thought about in years.
Flashback
I was ten years old when I decided I hated parties.
They were loud and full of fake smiles. Adults pretending to enjoy each other's company.
It was my father's birthday celebration at
our mansion, though I barely cared why everyone was there.
I stood near the staircase, watching men in suits laugh over drinks while my five-year-old twin brothers ran around the hall, the nanny chasing them.
"Lucas," my father called. "Go greet the guests properly."
I sighed and obeyed, moving through conversations I had no interest in.
That was when I saw her.
She was sitting by the garden fountain, legs dangling over the edge as she tried to scoop water with her hands.
She was smiling.
Not the polite smile adults used.
A real one.
I stopped walking.
"Who's that?" I asked.
My father glanced toward the garden. "James Petrakis's daughter. Rose."
Rose.
She couldn't have been more than six. Her dress was slightly too big for her, and her curls bounced as she leaned over the water.
At one point she slipped and nearly fell in.
Instead of panicking, she laughed.
Something about that made me walk toward her.
"You'll fall in," I said.
She looked up at me, water dripping from her fingers.
"So?" she replied.
I blinked.
"You don't care?"
She shrugged. "Water isn't scary."
"It's cold."
"Cold isn't scary either," she said. "Being lonely is."
I froze.
She tilted her head and studied me.
"You look lonely."
No one had ever said that to me before.
"I'm Lucas," I said after a moment.
"I'm Amaya," she replied, smiling. "But my family calls me Rose."
Her front teeth were missing.
I laughed before I could stop myself.
Her face lit up.
"You laugh funny," she said.
"And you talk too much," I replied.
She giggled.
"Do you want to sit with me?" she asked, patting the stone beside her. "The grown-ups are boring."
After a moment of hesitation, I sat.
She talked endlessly while I listened.
Eventually someone came to take her back inside.
Before leaving, she pulled a rose from her hair and placed it in my hand.
"So you think of me whenever you feel lonely."
Then she waved and ran off.
That night, lying in bed, I stared at the rose on my desk.
For the first time in a long while, I felt like I might have made a friend.
I didn't know why she stayed in my thoughts.
But I knew one thing.
I hoped I would see her again.
Present
"Yes, I remember," I said quietly.
She had grown into a beautiful woman, but I still recognized those bright blue eyes.
James sighed.
"As for the debt... I promise I'll repay everything. I just need more time."
I stood and walked slowly around the room.
"Let's be honest, James," I said. "Even if you sell your company, you won't be able to repay that amount."
He didn't deny it.
I paused.
This was the moment I should have ended the discussion.
Demanded repayment.
Closed the matter.
Instead, I said something else.
"There is another option."
James looked up.
"Give me your daughter's hand in marriage."