The Love We Forgot

The alarm on Michelle Javier’s phone rang at exactly six in the morning. She opened one eye. Then closed it again. “No.” The alarm continued screaming. Michelle groaned and buried her face beneath the pillow. “Five more minutes.” The alarm didn’t care. She reached blindly across the nightstand, knocked over a glass of water, nearly sent her phone crashing to the floor, and finally managed to silence the noise. Silence. Beautiful, precious silence. Michelle smiled against her pillow. Then her second alarm rang. Her eyes flew open. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” She sat up so quickly that her hair fell over her face. “Six-thirty.” She stared at the clock. Her shift started at seven. “Oh, no.” Michelle jumped out of bed. Within minutes, her small apartment looked like a storm had passed through it. She rushed into the bathroom, brushed her teeth while trying to fix her hair, changed into her hotel uniform, and grabbed the coffee she had prepared the night before. She stopped at the mirror. For a moment, she stared at herself. Dark hair. Tired eyes. A face that had learned how to look ordinary. That was exactly what she wanted. Ordinary. Normal. Invisible. Michelle picked up her bag. “You’re just Michelle,” she whispered to her reflection. Not an heiress. Not a Javier. Not the daughter of Manuel Javier. Just Michelle. A hotel employee living quietly in New York. That was the life she had chosen. Or at least, the life she had convinced herself she wanted. New York was already awake when Michelle stepped outside. The morning air was cold against her cheeks. People hurried past her, carrying coffee cups and briefcases, all moving toward lives that seemed far more important than hers. Michelle didn’t mind. She liked being one face among millions. Nobody stopped her to ask about her family. Nobody cared about the Javier name. Nobody knew that somewhere across the world, her father owned hotels, resorts, properties, and businesses worth more money than Michelle could ever spend in a lifetime. And that was exactly how she wanted it. She walked toward the subway station. Her phone vibrated. She glanced at the screen. Aunt Clara. Michelle smiled. She answered. “Good morning, Auntie.” “Good morning? Do you know what time it is?” Michelle laughed. “I know. I’m already on my way to work.” “Did you eat?” “Yes.” “You always say yes even when you haven’t.” Michelle smiled. “Okay. Fine. I’m drinking coffee.” “Coffee isn’t breakfast.” “I know.” “You sound tired.” “I’m fine.” There was a brief silence on the other end. Then Clara’s voice softened. “Michelle.” Something about the way her aunt said her name made her stop walking. “What?” “Your father called last night.” Michelle’s smile disappeared. She looked down at the pavement. “Why?” “He wanted to speak with you.” “I don’t want to talk about him.” “He’s still your father.” “I know.” Michelle sighed. That was the problem. She knew. No matter how far she ran, no matter how many years passed, Manuel Javier would always be her father. The man who had sent her away. The man who had decided that New York would be safer for her. The man who had convinced himself that sending his ten-year-old daughter across the world was the only way to protect her. Michelle still remembered that day. She had been standing beside her mother. She remembered the suitcase. The tears. Her father’s trembling hands. And the words he had whispered. “One day you’ll understand why I had to do this.” She never did. Her mother died soon after. And Michelle never returned to the life she had been born into. Aunt Clara raised her. Loved her. Protected her. And Michelle learned to live without the Javier fortune. “I don’t want to talk to Dad,” Michelle said quietly. “Are you sure?” “Yes.” Another silence. “All right,” Clara finally said. “But promise me you’ll call me tonight.” “I promise.” “And Michelle?” “Yes?” “Be careful.” Michelle frowned. “Why?” “I don’t know.” Clara’s voice suddenly sounded uneasy. “Just… be careful.” Michelle forced a smile. “I will.” They ended the call. Michelle slipped the phone into her pocket. She didn’t notice the black sedan parked across the street. She didn’t notice the man sitting inside it. And she definitely didn’t notice the camera pointed in her direction. At seven fifteen, Michelle entered the hotel lobby. “You’re late.” Michelle looked up. Her coworker, Anna, stood behind the reception desk with her arms crossed. Michelle smiled apologetically. “Traffic.” “You take the subway.” “Subway traffic.” Anna laughed. “Nice excuse.” Michelle placed her bag beneath the counter. “Did I miss anything?” “Only three guests asking where you were.” “Already?” “It’s New York.” Michelle laughed. She loved mornings like this. Busy. Chaotic. Normal. For the next several hours, she worked without thinking about her father. Without thinking about the past. Without thinking about the fact that somewhere in the Philippines, the Javier name was involved in business conflicts she wanted nothing to do with. She simply worked. That was her life. Until lunchtime. Michelle was walking toward the staff room when her phone vibrated. Unknown number. She stared at it. The phone stopped. A few seconds later, it rang again. Unknown number. Michelle hesitated. Then answered. “Hello?” Silence. “Hello?” Nothing. Michelle frowned. “Who is this?” A man’s breathing came through the phone. Slow. Heavy. Then— “Michelle.” Her heart stopped. She looked around. “Who are you?” The line remained silent. “How do you know my name?” The man’s voice came again. Low. Urgent. “You need to leave.” Michelle’s fingers tightened around the phone. “Leave where?” “New York.” Her stomach dropped. “Why?” “You don’t know who is watching you.” Michelle’s pulse quickened. “Who are you?” “You need to listen to me.” “Tell me who you are first.” “Go somewhere safe.” “Why?” “Because your father’s enemies know you’re still alive.” Michelle couldn’t breathe. Her father’s enemies? That was impossible. As far as she knew, nobody even knew she was in New York. She had spent years hiding. She had no involvement in the Javier business. No public appearances. No interviews. No social media presence. Nothing. “Who are you?” she demanded. The man didn’t answer. Instead, he said quietly: “They’ve already found you.” The call ended. Michelle stared at her phone. Her hands were shaking. “Michelle?” She looked up. Anna was standing several feet away. “Are you okay?” Michelle swallowed. “Yeah.” “You look pale.” “I’m fine.” She forced a smile. But something inside her had changed. She looked toward the hotel’s glass entrance. People were coming and going. Cars moved along the street. Everything looked normal. Too normal. Then she saw it. A black sedan. Parked across the road. Michelle stared at it. The windows were dark. She couldn’t see anyone inside. Her heart began pounding. The car remained there. She looked away. Then looked back. Still there. “Michelle?” She blinked. Anna was still watching her. “Sorry.” “You sure you’re okay?” Michelle nodded. “Yeah.” But she wasn’t. That evening, Michelle stayed later than usual. She didn’t want to go home. Not after the phone call. Not after seeing the car. She told herself she was being paranoid. There was no proof. No reason to panic. Still, when she finally left the hotel, she kept looking over her shoulder. The streets were crowded. People laughed. Taxis honked. A couple argued outside a restaurant. Life continued. Michelle walked toward the subway station. She reached into her bag for her phone. Another message appeared. Unknown number. Her hands went cold. She opened it. There was no text. Only a photograph. Michelle stared at the screen. It was a picture of her. Standing outside the hotel that morning. Someone had photographed her from across the street. Her blood ran cold. Another message arrived. This time, there were only seven words. You should have stayed away from your family. Michelle stopped walking. Her breathing became shallow. She looked around. Nobody seemed to be watching. But suddenly, everyone looked suspicious. Every stranger. Every parked car. Every shadow. She quickly locked her phone and continued walking. Faster. Then faster. She reached the subway entrance. A man bumped into her shoulder. “Sorry.” Michelle turned. The man was already walking away. She looked back toward the street. The black sedan was gone. She released a shaky breath. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe someone was trying to scare her. Maybe— Her phone vibrated again. Michelle froze. Slowly, she looked at the screen. Another message. Run, Michelle. She stared at the words. Then her phone rang. Unknown number. Michelle didn’t answer. It rang again. And again. Finally, she answered. “Who are you?” A voice whispered on the other end. This time, she recognized it. The same man. “Michelle…” “Tell me who you are!” “You have to trust me.” “Why should I trust you?” “Because I’m the only person trying to keep you alive.” Michelle’s heart pounded. “Who wants me dead?” There was a long silence. Then the man said the one thing Michelle had spent years trying not to hear. “Someone from your father’s world.” The call ended. Michelle stood frozen in the middle of the sidewalk. She didn’t know it yet, but the life she had carefully built was already beginning to collapse. And somewhere far away, a man she had never met was about to drive toward a burning house. A man named Kyle Andrew Torrez. And he was about to find her.