Mr. CEO, Do You Remember Me?

The mirror before Amara Li was large, elegant, and painfully honest. She leaned in, inspecting every contour of her face, every flaw she thought she’d erased. Her makeup was perfect—flawless foundation, softly shaded eyes, a peach tint on her lips. She’d practiced every online beauty tutorial, memorized every glow-up routine. And still… something always felt missing. “I guess I’m just fated to be ugly,” she muttered bitterly, her voice tight. The ache wasn’t new. As a teenager, she cried herself to sleep more nights than she could count. In high school, she had tried—desperately—to be seen. She fell in love too easily, but her crushes never saw her the same way. Some used her. Others were kind at first, only to laugh behind her back. One even told her bluntly: > “No man would date a girl with that face.” That face. The one she now stared at through eyes that had once hidden behind thick glasses. The same face that had once caused her father to walk away. Yes, even him. Her parents used to fight late into the night—fights about her, whispered through gritted teeth, doors slamming like thunder. Her father had suggested plastic surgery. She was only fourteen. Her mother refused, shielding her from a man who couldn’t accept his own child. Eventually, he left. Divorced her mother. Moved on. And she overheard why. > “She’s ruining my reputation. That… face.” From that moment on, she stopped using his surname. Her mother, trying to protect her, always said, “Daddy went on a business trip. He’ll be back.” But Amara was no fool. Even as a child, she could hear the tremble in her mother’s voice—the sound of a woman trying to cover a wound with a bedtime story. And still, she smiled for her. Until college. That was when the world turned crueler. A rumor had spread like wildfire: Amara Li had stolen someone’s boyfriend. She was framed. Set up. And the worst part? The boy—someone she thought genuinely cared—looked her in the eye and said: > “You really thought I’d fall for you? I just wanted to see how far you'd go for someone like me.” The memory struck like lightning. That day, her classmates had cornered her. They’d shoved her down, spat venomous words, and one of them crushed her glasses beneath their heels. She couldn’t see well. Her vision blurred as the world around her twisted in hate. She stood up blindly, her knees scraped, her pride shattered. But no one helped. She stumbled, trying to find her way out of the courtyard. That’s when it happened. A pair of strong arms caught her just before she fell. The scent of fresh rain and cedar filled her lungs. She couldn’t see him well—just the outline of his face, the warmth of his touch. He looked like an angel. But she didn’t believe in angels. Not anymore. Not when even her father couldn’t love her. Not when her own face was treated like a curse. “Let go,” she whispered. “I can walk.” He hesitated, but slowly released her. She bent to pick up the shattered frame of her glasses. He watched silently. She avoided his gaze, ashamed, humiliated. “I don’t need your pity,” she told him, steeling herself. “I’ll call a cab.” She began to walk away, unsteady on her feet. But when she stumbled again, he moved toward her without thinking. “Stay away!” she barked. He froze. She didn’t look back as she forced herself to the main road. Minutes later, she waved down a taxi and got in. Before the door closed, she noticed him—he was still there, watching her. His expression unreadable. That night, she made a decision. She would never be weak again. --- But the world wasn’t done breaking her. It was the night of her university entrance celebration. She had passed with flying colors, and her heart was bursting with pride. She raced home, eager to share the news. Only to freeze in the hallway. Her mother was inside the house—talking to men in suits. Amara hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but when she heard her name, she stopped breathing. “She’s not mine,” her mother said coldly. “Don’t be fooled by the act. I’ve only been caring for her out of pity.” Amara felt her heart stop. The file in her hand—her admission letter—fell to the ground. She stepped into the room, her presence loud in the silence. Her mother looked up, stunned. But she didn’t speak. Didn’t explain. She just looked away. Amara ran. She didn’t know where her feet were taking her, only that she had to get away—from the lies, the shame, the unbearable pain of being unwanted by everyone. She ended up on the rooftop of an abandoned building near campus. The wind whipped her hair around her face, and she looked down. Her chest hurt. Her lungs tightened. What was the point? Even her mother didn’t want her. Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Mom. She let it ring. Again. Again. Finally, she turned it off. What was the use of pretending anymore? --- Damon Wu had only come up there for privacy. He didn’t expect to hear a voice. When he saw her, standing at the ledge, her figure trembling, he recognized her instantly. The girl from that night. She was crying. Whispering words he wished he hadn’t heard. “I hate this life. I hate this face. I hate being born.” She took a step forward. “No!” Damon shouted, running toward her. Too late. She fell. He leapt after her, catching her mid-air, pulling her into his arms as they tumbled onto the rooftop floor below. It wasn’t a fatal fall, but the impact stunned them both. She opened her eyes, dazed. And there he was again. That scent. That face. That same gaze full of unspoken emotion. Her heart cracked. His eyes dropped to the admission letter still clutched in her trembling hand. She had gotten into the university his father had been begging him to attend. But Damon had always refused. He hated being controlled. His father wanted him to follow the path his business friends had set for their own sons. But now… for the first time, he had a reason to go. Not because of his father. But because of her. Maybe she’d need someone. A friend. A companion. Maybe he did too. Because Damon Wu had scars too. His mother had abandoned him the same day he lost his little sister. She never came back. Not even when his sister slipped into a coma. Not even when she was transferred overseas. He had grown up cold. Controlled. Alone. But somehow, this girl—this broken girl with fire in her heart—had stirred something in him he didn’t understand. They lay there on the rooftop, staring at each other, silence stretching between them. And something unspoken passed between their eyes. Something that would follow them both into the future. End of Prologue