The CEO’s Hamster

Five

Chapter 5 — The Summer She Forgot

Victoria

I couldn't sleep.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him.

Not the Lorenzo Valentieri everyone knew.

Not the billionaire whose name appeared on business magazines.

Not the powerful Italian mogul who had walked into the ballroom and made half the room turn to look at him.

I saw a boy.

A boy with messy dark hair, scraped knees, and an irritating smile.

A boy who used to steal my cookies.

A boy who called me Hamster.

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the photograph Lorenzo had given me.

My fingers traced the worn edges.

Where had he kept this all these years?

And why had I forgotten?

I closed my eyes.

A memory surfaced.

I was eight years old again.

The summer sun was warm against my skin.

I was sitting beneath a large tree in the garden of the house where my family was staying in America.

A plate of cookies rested beside me.

Then a shadow appeared.

“Give me one.”

I looked up.

Lorenzo.

Nine years old.

Messy dark hair.

Bright eyes.

A mischievous smile.

“No.”

He frowned.

“Why?”

“Because you already had three.”

“I want another.”

“Get your own.”

He reached for the plate.

I slapped his hand.

“Don't!”

He laughed.

“You're selfish.”

“And you're annoying.”

He grabbed a cookie and ran.

“Lorenzo!”

I jumped up and chased him across the grass.

“Give it back!”

“Catch me!”

I ran faster.

He looked over his shoulder.

Then stopped.

I crashed straight into him.

We both fell onto the grass.

He started laughing.

I tried to look angry.

But I couldn't.

I started laughing too.

Then he looked at me.

“You look funny when you eat.”

I frowned.

“How?”

He puffed out his cheeks.

“Like a hamster.”

I gasped.

“I'm not a hamster!”

“You are.”

“I hate you!”

“No, you don't.”

I threw a leaf at him.

He laughed harder.

Then he held out the cookie.

“Here.”

I took it.

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome, Hamster.”

I smiled.

My eyes opened.

A tear rolled down my cheek.

I quickly wiped it away.

I hadn't cried in years.

Not properly.

I didn't like remembering the child I had been.

That girl had been hopeful.

Trusting.

Happy.

Then everything changed.

My parents' relationship deteriorated.

Arguments became normal.

Silence became worse.

And eventually, I learned to stop expecting people to stay.

I built Hayes International because I needed something nobody could take away from me.

Success became my armor.

Money became security.

Control became survival.

Love became something I simply didn't need.

Or so I had convinced myself.

My phone rang.

I looked at the screen.

Jamal.

I answered.

“Hello.”

“You sound terrible.”

“Good morning to you too.”

“Did you sleep?”

“A little.”

“You're lying.”

I sighed.

“I remembered Lorenzo.”

Jamal became quiet.

“The childhood friend?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“He remembered everything.”

“Victoria…”

“He still has the photograph.”

“That means he cared.”

I looked down.

“That's what scares me.”

“Why?”

“Because I remember caring too.”

There was silence.

Then Jamal's voice softened.

“Maybe that's not something you should be afraid of.”

I didn't answer.

Because I didn't know how to explain that remembering happiness could hurt more than remembering pain.

Lorenzo

I stood in my hotel room with my phone pressed against my ear.

“Tell me everything.”

My security chief's voice came through the line.

“We identified the man from the gala.”

“Who is he?”

“His name is Daniel Cross.”

I frowned.

“Connection to Victoria?”

“We're still investigating.”

“Then investigate faster.”

I ended the call.

Matteo walked into the room.

“You look angry.”

“I am.”

“Business?”

“No.”

He studied me.

“Victoria?”

I looked at him.

“Someone is watching her.”

His expression immediately changed.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Does she know?”

“No.”

Matteo crossed his arms.

“Then tell her.”

“I will.”

“Lorenzo.”

I looked at him.

“You've been waiting twenty years to find her. Don't let your need to protect her become another reason to keep her in the dark.”

His words stayed with me.

He was right.

I picked up my phone.

I had Victoria's number.

My thumb hovered over it.

Then I typed.

Can I see you tomorrow? There is something I need to tell you.

I stared at the message before sending it.

A few seconds later, the response appeared.

Yes. Where?

I smiled.

Somewhere quiet.

Her reply came almost immediately.

Agreed.

I put the phone down.

For the first time since seeing her again, I felt hopeful.

Then another message appeared.

Not from Victoria.

From my security chief.

We found something. You need to see this immediately.

An attachment followed.

I opened it.

My blood ran cold.

It was a photograph of Victoria leaving her office.

Taken from across the street.

Taken today.

And beneath the photograph was a single message:

You should have stayed away from her.

My jaw tightened.

Someone knew about Victoria.

Someone knew about me.

And someone clearly didn't want us together.

I stared at the photograph for several seconds.

Then I whispered the words I had once told a little girl beneath an American summer sky.

“Don't worry, Cricetina mia.”

This time, I wasn't a nine-year-old boy.

This time, I could protect her.

But whoever had sent that message had just made one serious mistake.

They had given me a reason to fight.

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