Eight months changed everything.
Damián stood at the head of the conference table, the city stretching endlessly behind him through floor-to-ceiling glass. The title on the door now read CEO, but the weight of it had settled long before the letters were changed.
He was good at this.
Decisive. Controlled. Respected.
And lonelier than he had expected.
The meeting ended efficiently. Praise followed. Approval came easily.
Still, something felt unfinished.
That afternoon, his assistant announced a visitor he hadn’t anticipated.
“Eleanor Grant is here to see you.”
Damián paused only a second. “Send her in.”
She entered with the same composure he remembered—tailored coat, calm eyes, confidence earned, not borrowed. Time had been kind to her.
“You look well,” she said.
“So do you,” he
