TWO WOUNDED HEART

The Ghost From The Past

‎Chapter 2:

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‎​For a long, agonizing second, the hum of the air conditioning and the rhythmic tapping of rain against the glass seemed to stop altogether. Victoria felt as though the floor beneath her heels had dissolved, leaving her suspended in a cold, suffocating void.

‎​Bryan Walter stood just twenty feet away. He handed his rain-dampened umbrella to the receptionist with the same quiet, effortless grace she had once known so intimately. Time had sharpened the edges of his profile; his jawline was leaner, his tailored gray suit immaculate, and his dark hair neatly parted. But he was unmistakably Bryan.

‎​The man whose laughter had once been her favorite sound. The man who had pledged his future to her, only to shatter it into unrecoverable pieces during one devastating, tear-soaked night in a tiny North London apartment.

‎​"Victoria? Are you all right?"

‎​David’s voice broke through the static in her mind, pulling her back to the glass office.

‎​Victoria swallowed hard, forcing her hands to remain completely steady over her notepad. She pulled her professional shield tight around herself, burying the sudden, violent spike of pain deep within her chest.

‎​"I'm fine, David," she said smoothly, her voice betraying not a single tremor. "Just surprised. I didn't realize the Edinburgh branch was sending senior leads down on such short notice."

‎​"It was a last-minute transfer requested by executive management," David explained, rising from his chair as Bryan approached the open door. "Ah, Bryan! Welcome to London. Excellent timing."

‎​Bryan stepped into the office, carrying a thin leather briefcase. "Thank you, David. Traffic from the station was a bit of a nightmare, but I—"

‎​He stopped dead in his tracks.

‎​His dark eyes locked onto Victoria, and for a fraction of a second, the cool, composed facade Bryan carried slipped entirely. His breath caught, his chest rising as shock flickered across his features. He hadn't known either.

‎​"Bryan," David continued, completely oblivious to the electric surge of tension charging the small space, "this is Victoria Wood, our lead strategy director on the European account. Victoria, this is Bryan Walter."

‎​Bryan didn't extend his hand immediately. He stood rooted, his gaze searching for Victoria's face as if looking for any trace of the woman he had left behind three years ago. When he finally spoke, his voice was lower, rougher than it had been a moment before.

‎​"Victoria."

‎​Her name on his lips felt like a phantom touch, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. But Victoria met his gaze directly, her posture rigid, her expression carved from absolute ice.

‎​"Mr. Walter," she said, deliberately withholding any warmth, extending her right hand with practiced formality. "Welcome to Vance & Sterling London."

‎​Bryan looked down at her offered hand. For a split second, hesitation hovered between them—a ghost of memories, of fingers intertwined under winter gloves, of quiet promises made in the dark. Then, slowly, he reached out and took her hand.

‎​His grip was warm, solid, and familiar. The heat of his palm sent a sharp jolt straight to her heart, but Victoria withdrew her hand the moment professional courtesy allowed.

‎​Bryan’s eyes darkened slightly at the cold distance, but he nodded, regaining his composure. "It's... good to meet you, Miss Wood."

‎​"Now then," David said, stepping between them to pull up a set of documents on his screen. "Since the two of you will be running the European strategy pitch together, you’ll need to coordinate immediately. We have a preliminary board presentation on Friday. I’ve assigned you the glass office on the north corner so you can review the account details together."

‎​"Together?" Victoria asked, unable to stop the slight edge in her tone.

‎​"Co-leads, Victoria," David reminded her with a gentle smile. "This contract is worth fifteen million pounds. You two are our best minds. I expect complete alignment."

‎​"Of course," Bryan replied smoothly, though his eyes never left Victoria. "You can rely on us, David."

‎​"Excellent. Victoria, show Bryan to the workstation and brief him on the Q3 metrics, will you?"

‎​"Right away," Victoria murmured.

‎​She turned on her heel and walked out of David's office without waiting to see if Bryan was following. She could hear his dark leather shoes stepping in cadence behind her as she navigated the sleek, white-carpeted aisles of the department. Every eye in the office was on them—the top internal director and the high-profile Scottish transfer.

‎​She opened the door to the north corner conference room, stepped inside, and waited until Bryan followed, closing the heavy glass door behind him. The moment the latch clicked, the silence between them became deafening.

‎​Victoria turned around, resting her hands against the edge of the conference table, maintaining a safe three feet of distance.

‎​"Let’s get one thing clear, Bryan," she began, dropping the polite facade entirely, her tone razor-sharp. "I don't know why you transferred to London, and frankly, I don't care. But this account is my life's work. I have spent three years building my career here, and I will not let your presence ruin it."

‎​Bryan stood near the door, his eyes holding hers with an intensity that made it difficult for her to breathe. There was no defense in his expression—only a profound, solemn weight.

‎​"Victoria..." he said softly, stepping forward. "I didn't know you were lead on this account. If I had known—"

‎​"If you had known, what?" she cut in, her voice cold. "You would have stayed in Scotland? Or would you have come anyway?"

‎​Bryan paused, taking a quiet breath. "I came back to London because I couldn't stay away anymore. But I didn't come to intrude on your life."

‎​"Good. Because you aren't part of my life," Victoria said, opening her folder with crisp, sharp movements. "We are colleagues. Nothing more. We talk about market strategy, growth projections, and client deliverables. We do not talk about the past. Is that understood?"

‎​Bryan looked at her for a long moment. He saw the guarded stance, the coldness in her eyes, and the pain buried deep behind her rigid posture—a pain he had caused.

‎​"Understood, Miss Wood," Bryan said quietly, accepting her terms with a slow nod. "Strictly business."

‎​"Good," Victoria said, though her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. "Sit down. We have three years of market data to cover before noon."

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