Jay's POV
The city lights had dimmed slightly by the time I returned to my condo. The streets below hummed with distant traffic, a soft, constant reminder that life never truly paused — even for those of us who tried to control it.
I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, letting out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Watson Corp. Keifer. His words. That promise.
For a long moment, I allowed myself to feel the weight of it — just a fraction — before stiffening again. There was no room for weakness. Not anymore.
I moved to the balcony, looking down at the city sprawled beneath me. Manhattan glittered like an endless battlefield of ambition and desire. I had conquered a small piece of it. I had fought tooth and nail for every inch of what I called my empire. And yet, standing there, I realized how fragile my control was.
I pulled out my small silver ring from my drawer — the one Keifer had given me on my eighteenth birthday. The metal was cold against my fingers, but the memories it carried burned hotter than any fire I'd faced in the corporate world.
It wasn't just a ring. It was a symbol. Of a past I'd tried to bury. Of promises I'd made to someone who had once meant everything to me. And most painfully, of the girl I used to be — naive, hopeful, terrified of being alone.
I swallowed hard. My empire had a name for a reason. SE Corp. Section E.
To the world, it was a slick, modern brand. But to me… it was home. Section E wasn't just a place. It was a memory of loyalty, friendship, and love — the kind that shaped me into who I was now. The girl I had been and the woman I had become existed side by side in that name.
I leaned on the railing, staring at the skyline. Funny how a single letter can carry decades of memory.
The next morning, my alarm went off at 4:45 a.m. — as usual.
Coffee. Quick stretches. Combat training. Gun practice. My body moved like clockwork, muscles memorizing every routine while my mind quietly replayed fragments of the previous day.
Samy's message pinged on my phone:
Samy: Morning, boss! Big day today. Investors are excited about the proposals. Coel says you're unstoppable.
I smiled faintly. "Thanks," I typed back.
By 6:30, I was already in the car heading toward SE Corp headquarters. The streets were busier than yesterday, but the city's pulse was no distraction. My mind was occupied by another rhythm entirely: memories of a classroom, laughter echoing in corridors, promises exchanged under starlight.
Coel greeted me as I entered the lobby. His calm demeanor was like a shield — reliable and steady.
"Morning, boss. You look… reflective today," he said, raising an eyebrow.
I smiled politely. "Just thinking about the empire."
He chuckled. "Well, your empire's thriving, thanks to you. Maybe don't overthink it tonight."
I nodded. Coel had no idea, and I intended to keep it that way.
At my office, Samy had already laid out the day's schedule and reports.
"Jay," she said brightly, "I never asked — why SE Corp? I mean… the name."
I froze for a fraction of a second, surprised that she had noticed. Most people only saw the brand. They didn't know its heart.
"It's… personal," I said carefully, tapping the edge of my desk. "Section E was where I grew up, where I learned everything important. Friends, lessons, even… love."
Her eyes widened slightly, and she nodded. "I see. That explains a lot. The way you run things, I mean. You've taken every bit of that place and molded it into this… perfect machine."
I smirked faintly. "I don't know about perfect. But yes, Section E taught me to fight, to survive, and to never let anyone take what I care about."
Samy leaned back in her chair, thoughtful. "Sounds like someone was very important there."
I stiffened slightly, hiding the memory behind a professional mask. "People come and go. What matters is the lessons they leave behind."
She smiled, but I could tell she suspected more. That was fine. Some secrets were mine alone.
Later, during the morning briefing with my department heads, the full weight of my empire pressed against me. Reports, projections, partnerships — every decision carried consequences. Every number represented someone's future.
I ran through each one, sharp, precise, unyielding. My employees knew the drill: respect through results, not charm.
Still, a part of me lingered in Section E — the sound of laughter in the hallways, the smell of classrooms, the warmth of hands held in promises. That girl, the one I had been, existed only in fragments now. But those fragments shaped every decision I made today.
At 11:00 a.m., Coel tapped on my office door. "The Watson investors have arrived."
My chest tightened, though I forced a calm expression. "Good. Let's see what they've got."
Walking toward the conference room, I noticed Samy lingering. "Be careful today," she said quietly. "You seem… distracted."
I offered her a tight smile. "Always in control, Samy. Don't worry."
She hesitated, then nodded. Some things were obvious, but not hers to pry.
In the conference room, I reviewed the documents once more. Charts, projections, and financial statements — everything meticulous, everything perfect. My mind, however, wandered to a simpler time: a classroom in Section E, the whispers of friends, the heartbeats of first love.
I shook it off. Now was not the time for ghosts.
Then, he appeared.
Tall. Polished. Unmistakable. Mark Keifer Watson.
Time stopped.
The world outside the glass walls ceased to exist. My pulse quickened. That same spark from years ago was there — the dangerous warmth, the familiarity that I had spent years burying.
His gaze met mine, and I felt something I hadn't in a long time: uncertainty. Vulnerability.
I forced myself to smile, professional and calm. "Welcome to SE Corp, Mr. Watson."
The rest of the morning passed in a blur of conversation, negotiations, and polite nods. Yet, every second, every word, was charged with tension — silent, unspoken, electric.
By the end of the day, the deal was secured. Contracts signed, handshakes exchanged. The boardroom emptied, leaving only the two of us.
"I promised you once," Keifer said quietly, leaning slightly toward me. "And I promise again — I won't let go."
Memories rushed back — the laughter, the stolen moments, the ring I still kept hidden in my drawer.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself. "Business is done," I said evenly, my tone measured. "We'll leave personal matters for another time."
His eyes softened, but he didn't retreat. "We'll see."
And for the first time in years, I felt the walls I'd built around my heart begin to tremble.
That night, I returned to my condo. I placed the silver ring back in its drawer, staring at it a moment longer than necessary.
Section E was more than a name. It was a part of me — the past, the present, and, perhaps unwillingly, the future.
Tomorrow, I would face the world again as the unshakable CEO of SE Corp. But tonight, for a brief, fleeting moment, I allowed myself to remember.
And in that remembrance, I felt both strength and vulnerability entwined — the perfect balance that had always defined me.