The CEO who loved me first

Chapter 2

Josh had always been the life of the party back in high school—loud, reckless, the boy who lived for flashing lights and chaos. But college had burned that out of him. Somewhere between the late-night study sessions and the endless hours of building the foundations of his tech startup, the allure of crowded rooms and pounding music had lost its shine.

Now, at twenty-six, sitting on one of the sleek black stools in the upscale lounge his employees had rented out for the night, he felt oddly out of place. The bass from the speakers rattled through the floorboards, colored lights flashing across the polished marble, champagne glasses clinking in every corner. Laughter rang out in waves. His team deserved this celebration—they had just closed a ten-billion-dollar investment deal that would catapult his company into a new league. They had insisted on throwing the party, practically begging him to come.

So he came. But his heart wasn’t here.

Josh swirled the amber liquid in his glass, watching the bubbles fizz against the crystal, his thoughts far from the music and the chatter. He could hear his employees calling to him across the room.

“Boss! Come dance with us!” one of them shouted, already tipsy, his tie hanging loose around his neck.

Josh forced a smile and lifted his glass in a silent toast. “I’ll pass,” he called back, shaking his head. “You don’t want to see me embarrass myself out there. Trust me—I’m terrible.”

They laughed, clapping in time with the music, before spinning back into the crowd. He let out a breath, relieved to be left alone. Dancing had never been his thing. Even back when he was younger, when the clubs had felt like freedom, it wasn’t the movement that drew him in—it was the noise, the distraction, the chance to drown out the emptiness gnawing inside.

Now, with everything he had worked for finally within reach, the noise felt hollow. The flashing lights only reminded him of all the nights he’d stayed up coding, grinding, sacrificing his youth for the dream that had consumed him. And now that dream was real—his company was on the brink of global expansion, his name already whispered with respect in boardrooms—but he still felt restless.

He shifted in his seat, loosening his tie further, when a voice cut through the music.

“It’s been a while, Boyce.”

The words were simple, almost casual, but they threaded through the noise and drew taut. He felt the syllables land—precise, familiar in a way he couldn’t place. Time stretched, breath catching in the slender pause that followed. The room glowed, the ice sighed again, and he held still, looking at the stranger who wasn’t acting like one at all.

Boyce felt his lips curve before he even realized it. There was something strangely familiar about her eyes, though his mind fumbled for the memory. He tilted his head, studying her carefully, searching his thoughts the way he used to sift through endless lines of code.

“Do I… know you?” he asked at last, his voice polite, curious, touched with that low velvet tone his employees often said could make anyone confess their secrets.

The woman’s smile faltered. Her perfectly glossed lips parted as if he’d just struck her. She let out a soft gasp, her hand pressing dramatically against her chest.

“You don’t even remember me?” she whispered, her voice trembling. Then, with a nervous laugh that sounded rehearsed yet edged with something real, she added, “Oh my God, I’m so embarrassed.”

Boyce’s brows knit together. He shook his head quickly, setting his glass back on the counter. “No—no, I’m sorry. It’s not that. I… I’ve lost part of my memories. Back then, in college, I was buried in books and work. I hardly remembered to eat, let alone pay attention to the people around me. It’s not your fault.”

Her expression softened, relief flickering across her features. She chuckled lightly, brushing a strand of golden hair behind her ear. The motion was practiced, confident, unlike the shy, uncertain mannerisms of the girl he half-remembered.

“After all,” she said, tilting her head, “it’s normal. I changed quite a lot since the last time we met.”

That was when it clicked. A flash of memory surfaced—an old lecture hall, the faint squeak of markers on the whiteboard, the nervous shuffle of papers. A younger girl sitting two rows back, her shoulders hunched, her long hair like a curtain shielding her from the world. She was quiet then, almost invisible. He remembered her name floating in the air one day when the professor called on her.

“Vanessa,” he said, tasting the syllables again after so many years.

Her eyes lit up instantly, and she smiled, this time with a spark that reached her gaze. “So you do remember,” she teased gently.

He gestured toward the empty stool beside him. “Please, sit.”

She did, with the ease of someone who had practiced walking into rooms and owning them. The silver dress she wore shimmered under the bar lights, hugging a slim figure that bore no resemblance to the girl he remembered. Boyce flagged down the bartender and slid a fresh glass toward her. “What are you drinking?”

“White wine,” she said, her voice velvet-smooth now, nothing like the timid stammer of the girl who used to hide her face in her notebook.

As she wrapped her fingers around the glass stem, she glanced sideways at him. “We had a group project together, remember? Computer science, sophomore year. I was supposed to present with you, but I… I couldn’t. I was terrified to stand in front of the whole class.”

The memory sharpened, and Boyce’s chest tightened. He remembered the panic in her eyes that day, the way she had gripped her notecards until her knuckles turned white. He remembered pulling her aside, brushing her hair back from her face so he could actually see her, and cupping her cheeks with both hands.

“Don’t give a s**t what other people think of you, Vanessa,” he had told her, surprising even himself back then with the certainty in his voice. “You’re stunning. And you’re meant for great things.”

Now, as she repeated his words back to him, her voice catching with emotion, he noticed the way her eyes glittered. A deep, unspoken memory seemed to burn there, one he hadn’t realized he’d planted.

“I never forgot that,” she said softly, her lips curving into a smile that was equal parts gratitude and something else—something that lingered in the air between them. “You changed everything for me, Boyce. I swore I’d find you again one day… and show you what your words did for me. It’s because of you I learned to love myself. It’s because of you that I became this.”

She leaned back slightly, letting him take her in. And he did.

The Vanessa he remembered was chubby, shy, a girl who hid behind baggy clothes and silence. The woman before him was dazzling. Her blonde hair shimmered like silk under the golden lights. Her figure was slim, graceful, her silver dress clinging to her in a way that made her seem untouchable, ethereal. She radiated a confidence that seemed almost too sharp, too polished.

She had, as she said, improved herself.

Boyce’s gaze lingered, his mind caught between memory and reality, between the girl who had once trembled under his touch and the woman who now sat before him, shining like a star.

Boyce raised his glass, the golden liquid catching the light as he tilted it toward her. “To you,” he said, his voice low, steady. “To your glow up.”

Vanessa’s smile widened, triumphant and sweet all at once. She clinked her glass against his, the crystal ringing like a secret only the two of them shared. She sipped slowly, her eyes never leaving his, watching him over the rim of her wineglass.

“You really have changed,” Boyce admitted, a small chuckle breaking from his throat. “I mean it, Vanessa. I’m… happy for you.”

Something flickered in her expression—pleasure, pride, and something darker, something he couldn’t quite name. She set her glass down with deliberate grace, then leaned closer, close enough that he caught the faint scent of her perfume. It was heady, sharp, and sweet all at once, like roses dipped in smoke.

Her lips brushed near his ear as she whispered, each word warm against his skin.

“I’ve traveled a long way just to come back to you, Boyce… I also mean it. I’ll make sure you know how grateful I am.”

The words slithered through him, leaving a shiver trailing down his spine. He forced a smile, lifting his glass once more as if the toast could shield him. But inside, a strange unease curled low in his chest.

Something in her tone sounded a bit off but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was exactly.