Return Of The Fallen Billionaire Heiress.

Chapter Five

The Return of the Architect

​Vionna’s POV

​The private jet touched down on the tarmac with a smooth hum, and I looked out the window at the city that had once tried to bury me, but today the air felt different because I wasn't the girl running away in the rain anymore. I stepped off the plane in a charcoal suit that fit me like armor, and my security detail moved in perfect formation around me while Xandros walked by my side with a satisfied look on his face.

​"The cars are waiting, and the penthouse is fully staffed, so you have exactly four hours to get ready for the summit before the sharks start circling," Xandros said, checking his watch as he ushered me into the back of a blacked-out SUV.

​"I don't need four hours to face people like Julian and Rhea, because I’ve been playing this moment back in my head for five years and I know exactly what I’m going to say," I replied, watching the familiar streets roll by, and I felt a cold stone sitting in my stomach that told me I was ready for blood.

​When we reached the penthouse, Lysithea was already waiting with a glass of wine and a dress that looked like it was spun from liquid midnight, and she dragged me toward the vanity while the stylists began to work on my hair.

​"The latest reports show that Julian’s firm is less than forty-eight hours away from a total default, and he’s telling everyone at the gala tonight that a mysterious 'foreign investor' is coming to save him," Lysithea laughed, leaning against the doorframe while she watched the transformation.

​"He’s right about the investor, he just doesn't know that the person holding the pen is the same girl he thought was a charity case," I said, and I didn't flinch when the stylist tucked a stray hair behind my ear because I was focused on the digital ledger on my phone.

​"Rhea spent sixty thousand dollars on her dress for tonight, and she’s been bragging to the tabloids that their wedding is going to be the event of the decade once this deal closes," Lysithea added, and I just smirked because I knew that by tomorrow morning, she wouldn't even be able to afford the dry cleaning for that dress.

​The gala was held in the grand ballroom of the city’s most exclusive hotel, and the moment I walked through the double doors, the ambient noise of the crowd seemed to drop by half. I could feel the eyes of the elite burning into my back, and I heard the frantic whispers of people trying to figure out who I was, but I just kept my head high and walked straight toward the center of the room.

​"Vionna? No, that’s impossible," a voice gasped from my left, and I turned my head just enough to see Julian standing there with a champagne glass trembling in his hand while Rhea clutched his arm like a frightened bird.

​"You look like you've seen a ghost, Julian, but I assure you I am very much alive and doing much better than the last time we spoke in that hallway," I said, my voice carrying just enough to make the people around us lean in to listen.

​"How are you here, and how did you get past security? Because this event is for the top one percent and you were expelled years ago," Rhea hissed, her face turning a blotchy red as she looked at my diamonds and the security detail standing behind me.

​"I didn't need to get past security, Rhea, because I’m the one who paid for the catering, the music, and the very floor you're standing on," I told her, and the look of pure terror that crossed Julian’s face was more satisfying than any drink I had ever tasted.

​"Vionna, listen, I didn't know you were back or that you had found success, and I’m sure we can put the past behind us if we’re going to be doing business together," Julian stuttered, trying to put on his charming face, but it just looked pathetic now.

​"We aren't doing business together, Julian, I’m doing business to you, and I suggest you enjoy the appetizers while you still have a company to your name," I replied, turning my back on him before he could respond.

​I was making my way toward the VIP lounge when a man stepped into my path, and the air in my lungs seemed to freeze because it was Ronan Draven Crest, looking even more powerful and imposing than he had in the hotel suite five years ago. He looked at me with a professional, distant coldness that told me he had no idea who I was, and he offered a slight nod as he extended a hand.

​"Ms. Thorne, I’ve been hearing a lot about your recent acquisitions in Zurich, and I think it’s time the Crest family and the Thorne empire discussed a formal merger to stabilize the market," he said, his voice as smooth and dangerous as I remembered.

​"Mr. Crest, you’re very direct, but I’m not sure your family has anything left that I actually want to buy," I challenged, meeting his silver-grey gaze with a steady stare of my own.

​"I assure you that I have assets you haven't even considered, and if you’re as smart as the rumors say, you'll hear me out before you make a decision," he countered, and he stepped closer until I could smell the familiar scent of his cologne.

​"I’ve spent five years considering every asset you own, Ronan, and I’m still not impressed by what I see," I told him, and for a split second, a flash of confusion crossed his face as if he was trying to place my voice.

​"Have we met before? Because you speak to me with a familiarity that suggests we’ve shared more than just a boardroom," he asked, his eyes narrowing as he scanned my face, but before I could answer, a loud shout came from the hallway.

​"Mama! I found the big room with the lights!" Soren yelled, and he broke away from his nanny’s grip and came sprinting across the marble floor toward us.

​He skidded to a stop right in front of Ronan, his small chest heaving as he looked up with wide, curious eyes, and the entire ballroom went silent as the two of them stood face to face. Ronan froze, his hand tightening around his whiskey glass until the knuckles turned white, and he looked down at the boy who had his exact jawline, his exact brow, and those unmistakable, piercing silver-grey eyes.

​"Soren, I told you to stay with the nanny until I was finished," I said, stepping forward to put a hand on my son’s shoulder, but I didn't take my eyes off Ronan’s face.

​Ronan looked from the boy to me, and then back to the boy, and the glass in his hand tilted dangerously as his mouth thinned into a hard line of shock.

​"Who is this child, Vionna?" he asked, his voice low and vibrating with a sudden, dark intensity that made everyone nearby take a step back.