THE MAN THAT I SHOULD HAVE FORGOTTEN
907 Words
CHAPTER 1
Manhattan looked different from the thirty-seventh floor.
Colder.
Sharper.
Unforgiving.
Sophia Bennett stood inside the mirrored elevator of Calloway Global, adjusting the collar of her charcoal-gray blazer. Her reflection stared back at her—composed, controlled, nothing like the trembling girl she used to be.
Five years.
Five years since she’d last stepped into this building.
Five years since Ethan Calloway broke her heart.
“You’re not here for him,” she whispered to herself. “You’re here for the job.”
She needed this consulting contract. Publishing had become unpredictable, and raising a child alone in New York wasn’t cheap.
The elevator chimed.
Top floor.
Her pulse quickened despite her determination.
The receptionist smiled professionally. “Ms. Bennett? Mr. Calloway is expecting you.”
Her stomach dropped.
Expecting her.
Of course he was.
He owned half of Manhattan. There wasn’t anything he didn’t know.
The office doors opened silently.
And there he was.
Ethan Calloway stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Central Park, hands in his pockets, shoulders broad beneath a tailored black suit. The city lights reflected against the glass, outlining his tall frame like a shadow carved from steel.
He turned slowly.
And the air left her lungs.
He was even more devastating than she remembered.
Sharp jaw. Controlled expression. Storm-gray eyes that once looked at her like she was the only woman in the world.
Now they were unreadable.
“Ms. Bennett,” he greeted smoothly.
No warmth.
No recognition.
Just distance.
“Mr. Calloway.”
The formal tone tasted bitter.
Silence stretched between them, thick with everything unsaid.
He walked toward his desk with unhurried confidence. Every movement deliberate. Calculated.
“You applied for the senior editorial consultant position,” he said, flipping through her file.
“Yes.”
“You’ve built an impressive portfolio.”
“I had to.”
His eyes flicked up briefly.
There it was—that flicker of something. Memory. Maybe regret.
Or maybe she imagined it.
“You left without a word,” she said before she could stop herself.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
“So did you,” he replied calmly.
Her fingers curled at her sides.
“I waited for you that night.”
His jaw tightened. “You shouldn’t have.”
The words hit like ice water.
“I was pregnant, Ethan.”
The confession slipped out before pride could stop it.
Silence.
Heavy. Deafening.
His expression didn’t change—but his entire body went rigid.
“What?” he asked quietly.
She swallowed. “I lost the baby.”
It was the lie she had perfected over the years.
The lie that protected her son.
Ethan stepped closer.
Close enough that she could smell his cologne. Dark. Expensive. Familiar.
“You’re telling me now?” His voice was dangerously soft.
“You disappeared.”
His hand flexed at his side.
“You think I left because I wanted to?”
“Didn’t you?”
His gaze darkened.
“You have no idea what happened.”
“Then explain.”
But he didn’t.
Instead, he stepped back, rebuilding the distance between them.
“You’re hired.”
Her breath caught.
“That’s it?”
“I don’t mix personal history with business.”
The hypocrisy nearly made her laugh.
“You already are,” she said.
His lips curved slightly. Not a smile. Something sharper.
“You’ll attend the charity gala this Friday. Senior staff are required.”
“I’m not senior staff.”
“You are now.”
Control.
That’s what this was.
Power.
He had it. She didn’t.
“I have a son,” she said carefully. “I don’t attend late-night galas.”
The words hung in the air.
His eyes locked onto hers.
“A son?”
“Yes.”
“How old?”
Four.
The number echoed in her mind like a ticking clock.
“Four.”
Time stopped.
Something shifted in his expression.
Calculation.
Suspicion.
“Who is the father?”
Her heartbeat slammed against her ribs.
“That’s none of your concern.”
His gaze sharpened.
“Everything about you concerns me.”
The arrogance.
“You don’t get to decide that anymore.”
He stepped closer again, invading her space.
“You belong in my world, Sophia.”
Her breath trembled.
“I survived yours.”
The tension between them crackled—dangerous and electric.
Finally, she stepped away.
“I’ll consider the gala.”
“You’ll be there.”
It wasn’t a request.
As she reached the door, his voice stopped her.
“Does he look like me?”
Her body froze.
She didn’t turn around.
“Goodnight, Mr. Calloway.”
And she walked out before her composure shattered.
Outside, Manhattan buzzed with life.
Sophia inhaled the cold evening air, steadying herself.
He suspected.
Or maybe he was just arrogant enough to assume.
Her phone rang.
“Mommy?” her son’s sleepy voice came through.
Her heart melted instantly.
“I’m on my way home, sweetheart.”
“Did you get the job?”
She smiled softly. “Yes.”
“Good. That means we can get pancakes tomorrow?”
Tears burned her eyes.
“Yes. Pancakes tomorrow.”
As she hung up, she didn’t notice the black Aston Martin parked across the street.
Inside, Ethan watched her.
Four years old.
The timeline was too precise to ignore.
If that boy was his—
Everything was about to explode
- Writer
