Billionaire's lost heir

Chapter 1 – The Woman He Once Knew ****Lara’s POV**** The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and I felt my stomach twist into a thousand knots. For a moment, I just stood there—staring at the golden letters embossed on the marble wall ahead. Montrose Corporation. The name alone was enough to drag me back to the years I had fought so hard to forget. The receptionist looked up from her desk. “Ms. Dela Vega? You’re next.” I nodded, forcing a polite smile even as my hands trembled against the folder of documents I carried. The faint reflection on the elevator’s metal walls caught my face—tired eyes, soft lines forming where laughter used to live. I had aged, but not enough to erase the ghost of who I once was. The girl who fell in love with a Montrose. “Right this way,” the receptionist said, leading me down the quiet hallway. Every step echoed too loudly. The air felt colder the closer we got, the weight of memory pressing against my chest. Then we stopped in front of a door made of glass and steel. The gold plate read: Ethan Alexander Montrose – Chief Executive Officer. The world tilted slightly. I had read that name a thousand times in the news over the years—the youngest Montrose to take the helm, the ruthless businessman, the billionaire heir who turned his father’s empire into gold. But no article had ever said what I already knew. That behind the sharp suits and power, there once was a boy who loved quietly. A boy who once loved me. “Go right in,” the receptionist said, smiling before walking away. I stood there for a heartbeat, gripping the folder so tightly the edges bent. Then I took a breath and opened the door. He was there. Ethan stood near the wide glass window, city lights stretching endlessly behind him. His reflection glimmered faintly against the glass—tall, composed, untouchable. The years had sculpted him into something sharper, colder. His once-soft gaze now carried the weight of someone who had seen too much and felt too little. When he turned, my heart nearly stopped. Those gray eyes. I’d forgotten how they could look straight through me. For a second, he didn’t move. Then his lips parted, his tone measured. “Ms. Dela Vega.” Just my name. Nothing more. Yet it carried a thousand memories, and every one of them hurt. “Sir,” I managed, my voice thinner than I wanted it to be. “Thank you for seeing me.” He gestured toward the chair in front of his desk. “Sit.” I did. My knees felt weak. He picked up my résumé, flipping through it without expression. “You’re applying for the secretary position.” “Yes,” I said, my voice steadier this time. “I’ve worked in administration before, and I believe I can—” His gaze lifted suddenly, cold and assessing. “Why here?” The question hit harder than it should have. I could have lied—said I admired the company, or that Montrose Corp was known for its success. But all I could think was that it was fate’s cruel joke bringing me back to him. “Because it’s… a good opportunity,” I said softly. “And I needed a change.” He studied me for a long moment. The silence was suffocating. Then he leaned back in his chair, folding his hands. “I see.” No flicker of recognition. No sign of the warmth I once knew. Just professionalism. Distance. And yet—something in his eyes betrayed him. A flicker of emotion, gone as quickly as it came. I forced a faint smile. “I appreciate your time, Mr. Montrose.” When I stood to leave, his voice cut through the quiet. “You’ve changed.” I froze. He wasn’t supposed to say that. He wasn’t supposed to remember at all. Slowly, I turned back. “It’s been years, Ethan. People change.” He gave a humorless smile. “Some more than others.” The words carried an edge I couldn’t name—resentment, maybe. Bitterness. And in that moment, as his gaze met mine, I felt time pull me backward—to when we weren’t strangers across a desk, but two people trying to hold on to something real. Back to when love hadn’t yet been poisoned by lies. --- Flashback — Years Ago The campus smelled of rain and fresh coffee the first time I met him. I was late for class, books clutched against my chest, dodging students who moved like they had all the time in the world. My world, however, was measured in deadlines, part-time shifts, and scholarship requirements. And then, just as I turned the corner, someone collided with me—hard. Papers flew, books tumbled, and I stumbled back with a startled gasp. “Watch where you’re—” I stopped mid-sentence. The man standing before me wasn’t just anyone. He was Ethan Montrose. Every student knew who he was—the son of the university’s biggest donor, the kind of name professors whispered about with caution. “I’m sorry,” he said simply, crouching to pick up the papers. His voice was smooth, calm, unexpectedly polite. “It’s fine,” I muttered, flustered. “I wasn’t looking either.” When he handed me my books, our fingers brushed. It was nothing. A small, fleeting touch. But it left my heart skipping anyway. That was how it started—an accident, a look, a quiet curiosity. Days passed, and we crossed paths again and again. In hallways, in lectures, in the library where he’d sometimes sit across from me without saying a word. Until one afternoon, he asked, “Do you mind helping me review for the midterms?” I blinked, caught off guard. “You’re asking me?” He smiled faintly. “You’re the top student in the class. Who else would I ask?” I told myself it was just tutoring. That it didn’t mean anything. But I started waiting for those sessions—the sound of his quiet laughter, the way he’d look at me when I wasn’t watching. Ethan was supposed to be cold, untouchable. But with me, he was different. He listened. He cared. And somewhere between pages of finance notes and late-night coffee, I fell for him. Hard. --- ****Ethan’s POV**** I remember the way she used to smile when she explained something to me—patient, certain, as if the world made sense through her eyes. Lara Dela Vega. She wasn’t like anyone else I knew. Most people bent around me, changed their words to please me. But she spoke like my last name didn’t matter. Like I was just another student who needed help. And maybe that’s why I kept showing up. At first, I thought it was curiosity. But soon, curiosity turned into something dangerous—something my parents would never forgive. They warned me once they found out. My father was subtle about his disapproval; my mother, less so. “She’s beneath you, Ethan,” she had said coldly over dinner. “A girl like that will only tarnish your name.” But I didn’t care. For the first time in my life, I wanted something for myself. One evening, after class, rain started to fall. We took shelter beneath an archway, laughter echoing between us as we waited for the downpour to slow. Her hair stuck to her cheeks, her eyes bright despite the storm. Without thinking, I brushed a strand away. She looked up, startled, and I realized how close we were. “Ethan,” she whispered. “Someone might see.” “Let them,” I said softly. And then I kissed her. It was gentle, fleeting, but it felt like freedom. Like finally stepping into sunlight after years in the dark. We tried to keep it quiet after that. But secrets have a way of finding ears. Rumors spread—cruel ones. I didn’t care at first. Until one reached me that I couldn’t ignore. A photo. Her with another man, laughing, too close. My mother showed it to me herself. “You see? She’s playing you, Ethan. Like all the rest.” I confronted Lara, angry and broken. I didn’t even let her explain. Maybe a part of me wanted to believe her, but pride is a powerful poison. And I had swallowed too much of it. The last thing she said to me before she left still echoes in my head: “I thought you knew me better than that.” And then she was gone. --- Back to the Present Ethan’s POV Now she was sitting across from me again—older, composed, wearing that polite mask people use when they’re trying not to bleed. And all I could think about was how time had both changed her and somehow not at all. “Ms. Dela Vega,” I said finally, closing her résumé. “You’ll hear from HR soon.” She nodded, standing. “Thank you, sir.” Her voice was steady, but I could see it—the faint tremor in her hand, the way her chest rose just a little faster than normal. When she reached the door, I spoke before I could stop myself. “You really have changed.” She paused, turning halfway. Her lips curved in a quiet, bittersweet smile. “Life tends to do that, Mr. Montrose.” And then she walked out, leaving me in a silence thick with ghosts. I watched the door close, feeling the old wound stir again—raw, unresolved, and dangerous. I had told myself I’d buried her years ago. But seeing her now, I realized something terrifying. Some things never die.