August 8th, 2025
Manhattan, New York - 4:32 PM
The early evening Manhattan sun glinted off the chrome buildings like molten silver, washing the city in its relentless brilliance. From the backseat of the black luxury sedan,
Ruth Tachibana sat perfectly poised - as always - yet her thoughts were far from composed. Her profile was serene, framed by the sleek black curtain of her hair, but her eyes lingered on the blur of traffic and skyscrapers passing outside.
Leo drove in silence, his hands steady on the wheel, though his jawline was cut sharp with tension.
Every so often, his eyes flickered to her - not in admiration, not in curiosity, but in the simmering, tight-lipped way of a man holding back words he couldn't quite say. His glances were quick, as though afraid she might catch them and demand to know the reason. But Ruth already knew what brewed in that silence.
The afternoon meeting had been an effortless triumph. She had walked into that room filled with America's most formidable CEOs and charmed them into unanimous agreement, her every sentence delivered with a grace that was both disarming and commanding.
She had left the boardroom with their admiration sealed - another victory, another step in the vision she had carefully constructed brick by brick.
But… the name.
Ravenglass.
It had been spoken like a drop of ink into a glass of clear water, spreading through her mind, staining every other thought. She'd kept her face neutral, even as her mind began to dig.
She knew she had heard it before. Somewhere. Some time. The syllables were sharp, elegant… dangerous in the way certain names carried an entire presence with them.
Leo's hands gripped the steering wheel tighter as they passed a slow-moving taxi. His eyes flicked to her again. He'd seen that look before - the one where she wasn't here, where her mind was turning over invisible stones. He didn't like it. After her betrayal, he despised it now.
Ruth sat straighter, as if that would steady her thoughts. The name looped again in her mind, each repetition heavier than the last.
Elizabeth Ravenglass.
She shut her eyes briefly, sifting through memories like files in an archive. Faces, voices, cities, corridors of time. Then - nothing. The recognition danced just out of reach, mocking her.
Her gaze drifted back to the glass. The city reflected in the window was all speed and motion, but she sat in stillness, feeling as though she were on the edge of a memory that refused to come forward.
She hated that feeling - not knowing. For someone like Ruth Tachibana, uncertainty was weakness, and weakness was unacceptable.
She exhaled slowly, almost inaudibly.
Where did I hear that name?
Beside her, Leo finally broke the silence.
"You've been quiet." His voice was low, flat, but there was an undertone there - something that wanted to provoke.
Ruth didn't turn to him. "I'm thinking."
"About the meeting?"
"No."
The single word seemed to land heavier than she intended. His grip on the wheel flexed. "Then what?"
She tilted her head slightly, her eyes still on the window. "Something else."
He didn't press, but she could feel his irritation. The air between them thickened, the hum of the engine filling the gap where other couples might have shared small talk or casual touches. Not them. Not now.
Another red light slowed them to a stop. The sunlight caught the reflection of her own eyes in the glass, and for a fleeting second, she saw herself not as the poised corporate force she had been moments ago, but as a woman distracted by an itch in her memory.
Without warning, she reached for her phone. The sleek device unlocked with a touch, its polished surface catching the light. Her fingers moved with a deliberate calm, but inside her, the anticipation was sharp. She opened the familiar icon of the world's most popular social media platform.
Her fingers hovered over the search bar for half a second. Then she typed:
Elizabeth Ravenglass.
The results appeared instantly.
The screen bloomed with the image of a woman - golden hair cascading over her shoulders, eyes the color of a summer sky, a smile that was both warm and devastating. The photograph was candid yet flawless, the kind of image that didn't just capture beauty, but commanded it.
Elizabeth Ravenglass. Supermodel. Philanthropist. Businesswoman. Beauty and Brain advocate. British-born, Birmingham-raised. Every accolade and title was listed beneath her name, each one a marker of her dominance in a world Ruth had never cared to enter - until now.
The profile picture alone had drawn over a million hearts. The comments scrolled endlessly - praise, longing, admiration. Fans from across the globe.
Ruth stared at the tiny heart icon pulsing beside the number, and for the briefest moment, she felt an uninvited twinge. Not envy. Something colder.
Now I remember you.
The whisper left her lips before she realized she'd spoken aloud.
Leo's eyes flicked to her in the mirror. "What?"
She didn't answer. Her eyes were fixed on the glowing screen, on the perfectly symmetrical features of the woman she now remembered - not the details, not yet, but the presence. It was enough to stir something deep within her.
Elizabeth Ravenglass. A name from a past moment she had filed away as unimportant - but now, in the wake of hearing it again, it no longer felt unimportant at all.
The British CEO's voice from earlier replayed in her mind.
Ruth's lips curved into the faintest smile, though it held no warmth. "So that's who you are," she murmured to herself.
Leo caught the edge in her tone, suspicious. "Someone you know?"
Ruth locked the phone, the screen going dark in her hand. "None of your business."
He didn't like the way she said it - the finality, the secrecy. After her silent betrayal, this hurt and angered him. But he said nothing. His silence was its own weapon, one he had been using more often these days.
The light turned green. The car surged forward.
Ruth turned her gaze back to the window, her reflection overlapping with the towering skyline outside. She didn't yet know why the name Elizabeth Ravenglass unsettled her - but she intended to find out.
In the quiet hum of the ride, her mind was already moving, already weaving threads. If this woman was part of the game now, Ruth needed to know her strengths, her weaknesses, her history. She needed to know everything.
And somewhere deep inside, beneath the steel composure, something unspoken began to take shape - not fear, but anticipation.
The name would not leave her.
Elizabeth Ravenglass.
The early evening light washed over Manhattan in molten gold, slipping between glass spires and steel ribs. Ruth sat in the back of the black sedan, her posture composed, but her gaze was fixed on the skyline as though each building held a secret meant for her alone.
The city passed in fragments - reflections in shop windows, faceless crowds, the shadow of a man on a bicycle stretching long across the asphalt
Three years ago...
Tokyo
It was supposed to be just another night. She had no reason to go back - not after she had left Ian so cleanly, so completely. No warning, no goodbye. No explanation. It was part of the plan. She had rehearsed her absence before she made it.
And yet…
The city air was cool that evening, the lamps along the narrow street glowing like amber beads in the dusk. She had been in her car, the radio low, the window cracked just enough to let in the faint scent of grilled yakitori from a food stall two blocks down.
She told herself she was only passing through. She didn't intend to look for him.
But there he was.
Ian walked just ahead, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. He looked older - perhaps a little more tired - but still had that unguarded way of moving, as if the city was his to wander.
And beside him, the glint of gold.
The woman was striking, her features delicate yet vivid, her stride confident. Her golden hair caught in the light each time they passed beneath a streetlamp. She laughed at something Ian said, the sound clear in the night.
Ruth's fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
She pulled over, parking on the shadowed side of the street. Her boots met the pavement without sound as she followed.
They moved through the busy stretch of the district, slipping into a quieter side street lined with traditional shopfronts.
The faint aroma of roasted tea leaves and sweet bean paste mingled in the air. Paper lanterns swayed gently overhead.
Ian and the golden-haired woman stopped in front of a tea shop whose wooden door was carved with delicate sakura blossoms. Warm light spilled from its windows, the kind that made winter nights feel softer.
They stepped inside.
Ruth waited several seconds before following, pushing the door open just enough to slip in. A small bell chimed overhead.
The shop was narrow but deep, with polished wood counters and shelves stacked with tins of tea leaves.
A few low tables sat near the front, while the back opened into a cozier seating area with cushions and low chairs. Steam curled up from a kettle behind the counter, carrying the scent of sencha and matcha.
Ian and the foreign woman took a seat by the window. They were close enough that their knees might touch beneath the table. Ian's smile was smaller than hers, but his eyes warmed each time she spoke.
Ruth chose the far corner. A black felt hat sat low over her brow; dark sunglasses hid her eyes despite the dim interior. A plain white mask covered the rest of her face. From here, she could watch without being seen.
A server approached. "Would you like something to drink, miss?"
"Genmaicha," she said softly. Her voice was almost lost under the muted hum of the shop.
The minutes stretched.
She watched the woman's hands as they moved - gesturing, brushing stray strands of hair from her face, resting briefly over Ian's on the table. She watched Ian's shoulders loosen as he listened.
Her ears caught bits of their conversation, slipping between the pauses.
"…Birmingham was beautiful this time of year…"
"…didn't think I'd see you again so soon…"
"…remember that café near the river…"
There was history there. Ruth could hear it in the easy rhythm of their words.
The tea arrived, its earthy scent curling upward. Ruth didn't touch it.
".....The tea's getting cold, Elizabeth Ravenglass. That is not the British way..." She heard Ian's joke.
"Elizabeth Ravenglass" Ruth whispered.
She finally knew the woman's name.
Elizabeth laughed again, leaning forward. And then - without hesitation - she leaned in and pressed her lips to Ian's.
It was brief, no more than a soft kiss, but it might as well have been a blade.
Ruth's chair shifted back an inch, her muscles tense. Her vision tunneled until all she could see was that golden hair, that smile that followed the kiss.
Her mind whispered take her away from him. The thought was almost soothing in its clarity.
Her hands curled into fists on her lap, the nails biting into her palms. She rose halfway from her chair, her body moving before her mind had fully decided.
Elizabeth glanced up - perhaps sensing something - but Ruth was already frozen in place. She could feel the edge of herself, the thin line between control and indulgence, and she teetered there for one long breath.
Her pulse roared in her ears.
Not here. Not yet.
She forced her legs to straighten. Left a few bills on the table. Slipped past the server without a word.
The night air outside was colder now, the scent of tea and smoke still clinging to her. She didn't look back at the window.
Present...
Manhattan, New York.
The memory loosened its grip slowly, releasing her back into the hum of the car and the muted roar of Manhattan beyond the glass.
Ruth's eyes lowered to her phone again. Elizabeth's perfect, golden image stared back at her, timeless and untouchable.
Her thumb hovered over the screen before she let it go dark, her own reflection staring back at her in the glass.
Leo drove on, the city stretching ahead. Neither spoke, but the silence had changed - heavier, sharper, like the pause before something inevitable.