My Ex, My Lifeline

The Man Who Doesn't Remember

The Grey Consortium headquarters rose from the heart of the city like a monument to dominance.

Its glass walls caught the daylight and fractured it into cold, blinding reflections. Steel beams carved clean lines into the sky, capturing the sun’s warmth, yet nothing about the building was warm. Nothing about it was meant to invite anyone from the outside into its playground. It was designed to intimidate, to remind anyone who walked through its doors exactly who held power.

Daniella Vale stepped inside anyway, shaking off the urge to retreat to the safety of her car. Never in a million years had she imagined she would walk through these doors.

The revolving doors swallowed her, sealing her into a world that hummed quietly with wealth and control. The marble floors gleamed beneath her heels, each step echoing too loudly in the vast lobby. Screens lined the walls, alive with moving numbers, global markets shifting in real time, millions gained in seconds, billions lost, fortunes altered with the flick of a finger. It was all a power trip.

She kept her chin lifted, her expression composed. Years of boardrooms and hostile negotiations had taught her how to armour herself. Fear was a luxury she could not afford, not now, and certainly not here.

“Miss Vale,” the receptionist said, glancing at her tablet. There was a pause, just long enough to register recognition. “Mr. Grey will see you shortly.”

Shortly turned into forty-seven minutes. Mr. Grey had a way of unravelling people, stripping them of their composure piece by piece, but Daniella remained still, her posture unyielding, her expression carved from stone.

She stood the entire time, ignoring the sleek leather chairs arranged nearby. Executives passed through the lobby in tailored suits, murmuring into headsets, their eyes sharp and assessing. Some glanced at her with curiosity. Others with something closer to pity.

He was taller than she remembered, or perhaps memory had softened him over time. His presence was commanding, the kind that bent rooms around it. His suit was immaculate, dark charcoal hugging broad shoulders, his movements precise and unhurried. Ash-dark hair brushed back neatly, not a strand out of place.

And his eyes, those piercing blue eyes she had once known intimately swept the lobby and landed on her. But it only shone with curiosity and not recognition.

“Miss Vale,” he said calmly, his voice smooth, detached. “You have five minutes.” The words landed like a slap.

Daniella followed him into the conference room, her pulse pounding against her ribs. The space was vast and minimal, glass walls, a polished table, the city stretching endlessly behind him like the backdrop of a throne room.

“You froze our accounts,” she blurted without a preamble.

“I didn’t,” Dominic replied, taking his seat at the head of the table. He made no move to invite her to sit. “And if that is the only reason you’re here, you’re wasting your time, Miss Vale.” A faint grin tugged at his lips.

“Dominic,” she said, taking a step forward, “I know we’ve had our differences in the past, but this is going too far. If you want me, you can have me. You don’t have to go to these extreme length.”

She hated herself the moment the words left her mouth. She hated the desperation creeping into her voice.

“I don’t know you,” he said evenly. “I know of you. But I don’t know you.” The sentence hollowed her out.

Daniella searched his face, but he was right. There was no recognition there. Only mild curiosity, as though she were an interesting problem rather than a woman who had once known him intimately.

“You really don’t remember me?” she asked quietly.

“No,” he replied. “Am i supposed to?”

Her throat tightened. “You used to call me Lemon.” For the briefest moment, so fleeting she almost missed it—his gaze stalled.

“You hate jasmine tea,” she pressed, stepping closer. “You said it reminded you of hospitals. You always drank your coffee black, even when it burned your tongue.” His jaw flexed.

A soft knock sounded at the door. Dominic murmured something under his breath as the receptionist peeked inside, signalling that her time was up. She smiled politely at him, shot Daniella a glance, and quietly closed the door behind her.

“You’re projecting a fantasy onto a stranger, Miss Vale,” Dominic said as he rose from his seat. “This meeting is over.”

Daniella straightened, her expression carefully neutral. She searched his face one last time for any flicker of recognition, there was nothing.

Without another word, she turned and left, closing the door softly behind her.

A few minutes later, Dominic’s friend, Jack, strode into his office without knocking. His tailored blue suit, jacket and trousers perfectly matched, which accentuated his build, his confidence, and the effortless charisma he carried like second skin. People often mistook them for twins, though they weren’t related by blood. They were brothers by proximity. Dominic had known Jack his entire life.

He knew what Jack was going to ask before his mouth even formed the words.

“So,” Jack drawled, whistling lightly as he leaned against the desk, “who was that lady?”

“Good day to you too,” Dominic replied coolly. “How many times have I told you not to walk into my office without knocking? What if I were with a woman?”

“Then the world would end, obviously,” Jack said with a grin. “Now, who was she? I might stand a chance.”

“She’s Miss Vale,” Dominic said flatly. “And she’s completely off-limits.”

Jack’s face fell into exaggerated disappointment. “Off-limits? Why?”

Dominic didn’t hesitate. “w***e. I believe you have a lot of women to attend to.... ”

Jack blinked, taken aback, then let out a low whistle. “Cold,” he muttered, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, I’m out.”

He paused at the door. “Anyway, I’m leaving. Aren’t you coming? It’s already past five.” He glanced down at his wristwatch.

“No,” Dominic said, turning back to his desk. “You go without me.”

Jack shrugged and left the office, the door closing softly behind him.

Dominic remained still long after the silence settled, his expression unreadable.

That night, alone in his office, Dominic pulled a locket from where it was hidden beneath his blazer. He opened it carefully. Inside was a monochrome photograph of a woman, smiling softly, her eyes alive even in black and white.

It couldn’t be. Lemon can’t be Miss Vale. This had to be a mistake. And yet… the resemblance was undeniable.

His hand trembled. He drew in a sharp breath, heart hammering against his ribs, as memories he didn’t fully understand began to stir.