The rooftop kiss changed everything.
Elira woke the next morning with tingling lips and a storm of butterflies in her stomach. Her dreams had bled into reality, and reality had been nothing short of terrifyingly beautiful. She had kissed Alexander Lancaster—her husband, her past, her future—and he had kissed her back like he'd known her soul even before she came back to life.
But now came the harder part: facing the day.
The elevator doors slid open, and as she stepped into the main floor of Lancaster Enterprises, it was as if time had slowed. Everyone turned—some subtle, others not. She could feel their gazes like gentle pricks against her skin. A few smiled politely. Others looked curious. Some... not so kind.
Her heels clicked softly against the marble floors as she made her way to her department. Yuna was already seated at her desk, sipping on her lavender latte and scrolling through emails. She looked up as Elira approached.
"You okay?" Yuna asked in a low voice.
"Should I not be?" Elira replied, placing her things down.
Yuna gave her a look. "People are talking."
"They've been talking," she said, trying to sound unaffected.
"True," Yuna nodded, "but today, they're louder."
Elira paused, then smiled. "Let them be."
Behind closed doors, Alexander Lancaster stood before a panel of glass, arms crossed, staring at the skyline. He had always believed control was his greatest asset. Emotional control. Financial control. Power and presence. But last night, Elira had shattered the last of his defenses.
He could still taste her in the back of his throat.
There was a knock at his door.
"Come in," he called, not looking back.
It was Vincent, his longtime assistant and one of the very few people who knew his entire history—the death of his young wife, the years of mourning, and now this… awakening.
Vincent approached, his voice neutral. "The board wants to meet about the Seoul acquisition. Noon. And HR flagged three anonymous complaints."
Alexander turned, brow furrowed. "Complaints?"
Vincent hesitated. "Allegations of favoritism. Someone's implying you're... involved with a junior employee."
He didn't need to guess who they meant.
"Handle it," he said.
"I can draft a professional response. Deny, reframe—"
"No," Alexander said calmly. "Tell HR I'm aware and will address it personally."
Vincent nodded, though concern lingered in his expression. "Are you sure this is wise?"
"I've spent two decades making wise decisions, Vincent. For once, I'd like to make a true one."
---
During lunch, Elira went up to the rooftop garden again, hoping for solitude. She sat beneath the same ivy-covered arch where he had kissed her, letting the silence wrap around her like a second skin.
Then came a familiar voice.
"Thought I'd find you here."
She looked up.
Aiden.
He had the same sharp jawline as his father, the same cool gaze, but softer in the way he carried himself. Beside him stood Aria, arms crossed.
"Hey," Elira greeted, cautious.
Aiden sat across from her. Aria remained standing.
"We want to ask you something," Aiden said carefully. "And we need you to be honest."
Elira tilted her head. "Okay."
"Did you ever know our mother?" he asked.
Elira blinked.
Aria jumped in. "We know she died giving birth to us. But there are… coincidences. Too many. You hum her lullaby. You know things. You even write like her."
"And your nose scrunch," Aiden added, half-laughing, half-awed. "Exactly like hers."
Elira exhaled slowly. She had always dreaded this moment. But she didn't want to lie—not to her children.
"I knew her," she whispered. "More than anyone."
Aria took a step back. "What are you saying?"
Elira looked at them—at the two people she had once held as babies, even if only for a moment. "I don't know how to explain it. But I remember her life because… it was mine."
Silence.
"Are you saying you're our mom?" Aria's voice cracked.
Elira nodded once. "Reborn. The same day she died."
Tears welled up in Aria's eyes. "That's not possible. That's not… it doesn't make sense."
"I know," Elira whispered. "And I don't expect you to believe me. I just need you to know that I love you. I always have."
Aiden sat still for a long time, jaw clenched.
Then, quietly, he said, "You smelled like her. The first time I met you."
Aria broke into a sob.
Elira stood and opened her arms. Slowly—hesitantly—Aria walked into them. A hug that felt like coming home.
"I missed you," Aria sobbed. "Even if I didn't know it."
Aiden stood next and wrapped them both in his arms.
It was imperfect, but it was enough.
---
The days that followed were a strange mix of bliss and uncertainty.
At work, Elira and Alexander remained professional. No stolen touches. No heated glances.
But after hours, when the sun dipped behind the skyline and most of the office emptied, he'd wait at her desk and drive her home. Sometimes he brought dinner. Sometimes just silence.
At her apartment, they'd sit side by side on the couch—close, but still testing the fragile edges of something blooming.
One night, as they sat in her living room, Alexander ran his fingers along the rim of his coffee cup.
"I got called into HR today," he said.
Elira stiffened. "Because of me?"
He nodded. "Anonymous complaints."
She sighed. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be."
"They'll blame me," she said, hugging her knees. "I'm the young one. The pretty one. The outsider."
"You're not an outsider to me," he said, voice deep and steady. "And I don't care what anyone else thinks."
"I do," she said softly. "I want to work hard. I want to be seen as capable—not just as the girl you're—"
He reached out and took her hand. "You are capable. You're brilliant, Elira. And I see you. Every part of you."
She looked at him, unsure whether to cry or kiss him.
She chose the latter.
It was slow and tender, and it deepened into something hungrier. But this time, he didn't stop it. He pulled her closer until she was in his lap, arms tangled behind his neck.
When they finally broke apart, breathless, he leaned his forehead against hers.
"I don't want to hide," he said.
"Then let's stop hiding."
---
The next morning, the rumors turned into a firestorm.
Photos had leaked—blurry ones, probably from someone on the upper floors. A silhouette of Alexander's hand on her back. A captured kiss behind a glass door. Nothing explicit, but enough.
The company group chats exploded.
> "Confirmed! She's dating the CEO."
> "She's like 22 and he's 40. WILD."
> "Can't blame him. She's stunning."
> "Gross. He's old enough to be her father."
> "Age is just a number. Love is love."
> "Nepotism romance. So predictable."
By noon, HR called Elira in.
The room was cold. Three executives, a lawyer, and a tight-lipped HR director sat at the table.
"Ms. Elira Summers," the director began, "we've received multiple complaints and allegations regarding a relationship between yourself and Mr. Alexander Lancaster. For clarity, are these rumors true?"
Elira folded her hands. "Yes."
One woman gasped.
"I am in a consensual relationship with Mr. Lancaster," she said. "We have kept it private and professional during work hours."
Another executive spoke. "Do you understand the complications this presents?"
"I do," she said.
"We may need to relocate your position—"
Before they could finish, the door opened.
Alexander walked in.
"I will not allow her to be punished for my decision," he said.
Everyone stood.
"Mr. Lancaster—"
"I'll transfer oversight of her department to another executive," he said. "Her work will be reviewed independently. There will be no preferential treatment."
"And what about the conflict of interest?"
He looked at Elira. "I will do what's necessary. But I won't step away from her."
There was a long silence.
Finally, the HR director nodded. "We'll revise the structure accordingly."
Elira exhaled in relief.
---
By the end of the week, things settled. The gossip continued, but the official protocols muted most of the outrage. Elira was reassigned to a different division temporarily—still under Lancaster Enterprises, but away from Alexander's direct chain of command.
It stung, a little. But it was the cost of being with him. And he visited her every lunch break anyway.
One afternoon, as they sat in his car overlooking the harbor, she said, "I think I'm falling for you all over again."
He smiled. "I think I never stopped loving you."
"I want to believe this will last."
He took her hand. "It already has."
Their foreheads met again.
And this time, there were no walls between them.
---
End of Chapter 9