1. Reunion
The heavy mahogany double doors of the executive office swing open with a sharp click, carrying with them the crisp, jasmine-scented breeze of Gabriella’s presence. Her voice, bright and unyielding, cuts cleanly through the solemn, high-stakes atmosphere that typically blankets the top floor of VALCOR’s monolithic tower. But the energetic momentum in her stride evaporates the instant her eyes catch the silhouette standing by the floor-to-ceiling glass wall.
Fernando stands with one hand casually tucked into the pocket of a tailored charcoal-grey suit, the bespoke fabric accentuating his broad shoulders and the commanding posture of a man accustomed to having entire boardrooms hang on his every syllable. As the sound of her voice reaches him, he turns slowly. The afternoon sunlight streaming across Toronto’s skyline catches the dark, artfully unruly curls framing a face that has long since lost its boyish softness, replaced now by razor-sharp jawlines and an expression of unreadable, quiet composure.
For a fraction of a second, the air in the room grows thin. The easy, playful warmth that used to define their interactions—the teasing smiles across dinner tables, the casual affection of a childhood friend—is noticeably absent, replaced by an invisible, suffocating tension that only Gabriella seems acutely aware of.
Gray, seated behind his massive glass desk with a fountain pen hovering over a portfolio, looks up, breaking the sudden, heavy silence. His gaze shifts from his sister’s frozen posture to Fernando’s measured, inscrutable stare.
"Gabby," Gray says, his tone carrying the familiar, protective warmth of an older brother, though completely oblivious to the silent storm brewing between them. "You're ruining the pristine quiet of my office. And close your mouth, you look like you've just seen a ghost."
Fernando doesn't smile immediately.
Instead, his dark eyes narrow just a fraction, lingering on the way her fingers instinctively tighten around the stack of documents clutched against her chest. The subtle retreat in her stance—the microscopic step backward she takes toward the door—does not escape him. It is a reaction he has noticed with growing frustration over the past few months, a deliberate wall she has built between them that he has yet to tear down.
"Or perhaps," Fernando speaks up, his voice deep, smooth, and laced with a quiet gravity that sends an involuntary shiver down her spine, "she's just surprised to see me here on a Tuesday. Isn't that right, little Valentina?"
He uses the old nickname, but it carries a different weight now—heavier, darker, wrapped in the unspoken secrets of a world she was never supposed to know about. He takes a slow, deliberate step forward, closing the distance between them just enough to make the air feel entirely his.
“Hahaha…Fern…you’re here too?…what a coincidence…haha…—Gray!! Can you sign the paper for me real quick?!”
The hollow ring of her forced laughter hangs in the air for barely a second before she scrambles past him, her hurried footsteps clicking frantically against the imported hardwood floor.
Fernando doesn't move. He simply tracks her frantic movement with a slow, deliberate turn of his head, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as she practically dives behind Gray’s desk like it’s a barricade against a firing squad. The desperate haste in her retreat—the way she avoids so much as a brush of his sleeve—is glaringly obvious.
A low, humorless sound vibrates quietly in his chest. Coincidence? She couldn't look guiltier if she tried.
Gray catches the document she practically shoves into his face, blinking in mild astonishment as his younger sister hovers over his shoulder with an intensity that suggests the building is about to collapse. He glances up at her flushed, wide-eyed expression, then throws a questioning look over his shoulder toward Fernando.
"Gabby, what on earth is wrong with you?" Gray mutters, hastily scribbling his signature across the bottom of the page before she bursts a blood vessel. "You’ve been acting like you’re running from a ghost for the last two months. And don't throw your papers at me like I'm an office assistant."
Fernando takes his time closing the distance between them, his stride unhurried, measured, and entirely unyielding. The faint scent of expensive cologne and ozone follows him, creeping into the space behind Gray's desk before Gabriella can even snatch her signed papers back.
He stops just a few feet away, leaning casually against the corner of the heavy glass desk, invading her perimeter with absolute, quiet dominance. His gaze drops from Gray's bewildered face straight to Gabriella’s guarded eyes, a dark, knowing amusement glinting behind his lashes.
"Running away so soon, little Valentina?" Fernando murmurs, his voice dropping an octave, rich with a low, velvet edge meant only for her ears. "And here I thought we had so much to catch up on. Tell me... is my presence really that terrifying to you now?"
