Lily exhaled slowly, tapping her nails against the glass table. The article’s headline stared back at her like a ghost she thought she had exorcised.
"Secret Past Revealed."
Alice watched her carefully. “It just dropped twenty minutes ago. The press is going to eat this up.”
Lily took another glance at the article. The text blurred for a second—not out of panic, but out of sheer disbelief at how predictable people could be. Scandals, rumors, dirt-digging. The world never changed.
She handed the tablet back to Alice, unimpressed. “Who leaked it?”
“We’re still tracing the source, but…” Alice hesitated. “The timing is too perfect. Right after the board meeting? Someone wants to rattle you.”
Lily let out a short, humorless laugh. “That’s cute.”
Most CEOs would scramble to control the narrative. Release statements, deny allegations, make calls to PR firms. But Lily wasn’t most CEOs. If someone wanted to drag her into a storm, she would make sure they drowned in it first.
Alice lowered her voice. “Do you want me to set up a media response?”
Lily stood, adjusting the cuff of her tailored blazer. “Not yet.”
Alice blinked. “Not yet?”
Lily picked up her phone, scrolling through the flood of unread notifications. Some were from journalists looking for a statement. Others were from people she hadn't spoken to in years, suddenly so concerned about her well-being.
Then there was one message that stood out.
A number she didn’t recognize. No name. No history. Just a single line of text.
"Did you really think I wouldn't find you?"
Lily’s fingers tightened around the phone.
The past wasn’t just knocking.
It was here.
Lily stared at the message. Cold, calculated words on a screen.
"Did you really think I wouldn't find you?"
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
For the first time in years, something flickered at the back of her mind—something she had buried under layers of steel and strategy. A whisper of an old fear.
Alice was still watching her, waiting for a command, but Lily said nothing. Instead, she locked her phone, slipped it into her pocket, and turned toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city stretched out before her, a jungle of glass and ambition.
It was supposed to be her city. Her world.
But the past never stayed dead.
“Lily?” Alice’s voice was softer now, cautious. “Should I start digging?”
Lily took a breath, steady and slow, before turning back around. Whatever this was, whoever it was—they wanted a reaction. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
“Not yet,” she said, voice smooth. “Let’s see how far they’re willing to go.”
The elevator ride down to the private parking lot was eerily silent. Alice was scrolling through updates, her brows slightly furrowed, while Lily leaned against the cool steel of the elevator wall.
Her reflection stared back at her.
Calm. Unshaken. Unbothered.
But she knew better.
The past wasn’t just a ghost; it was a wildfire.
She had spent years building herself into something untouchable, yet here she was, checking her phone as if a single text could shake the empire she had built.
When the elevator doors slid open, Richard was already waiting by the car. He didn’t say a word—he never did unless necessary—but Lily caught the way his eyes flicked to Alice, like he could sense something was off.
“Straight home?” he asked.
“No,” Lily said, sliding into the backseat. “Take me to the penthouse first.”
Alice raised an eyebrow as she got in beside her. “We’re skipping the office?”
Lily met her gaze. “Something tells me work just got a little more interesting.”
Alice exhaled, closing her tablet. “Fine. But at least tell me if this is going to turn into a full-blown crisis so I can start damage control.”
Lily smirked. “Oh, Alice. We don’t control damage.” She leaned back against the seat, tapping her phone against her thigh. “We make sure no one dares to cause it in the first place.”
The penthouse was quiet when they arrived—too quiet.
Lily stepped inside, her heels clicking against the marble floor, and immediately noticed something was off.
The lights. They were dimmer than usual.
Alice seemed to pick up on it too, because she hovered near the doorway, suddenly tense. “Did you leave the lights like this?”
“No.”
Lily’s hand hovered near the inside of her coat. She didn’t carry a gun—never needed one. But old habits died hard.
A breeze moved through the room. The sliding balcony doors were slightly open.
Someone had been here.
Lily took a slow step forward, her mind already running through possibilities. Break-in? No signs of forced entry. A message? Probably. A warning? Definitely.
Then she saw it.
On the glass coffee table, placed neatly in the center, was a single envelope.
No name. No logo. Just plain, crisp paper.
Alice was already pulling out her phone, ready to call security, but Lily held up a hand. “Wait.”
She picked up the envelope and opened it, pulling out a small, folded note. The handwriting was neat. Precise. Too familiar.
And the message was short.
"Welcome back, Lily."
Her grip on the paper tightened.
Alice took a step closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “Who the hell—”
But Lily already knew.
Because there was only one person who ever wrote notes like this.
And he was supposed to be dead.
To be continued...
What will happend to Lily?
