Chapter Two
The Ghost from My Past
Six years.
That's how long it's been since Tiffany Rayes walked out of my life and left me standing in the wreckage.
In those six years, I built an empire.
Carter Holdings,my company, my creation. I started it from nothing but anger, vision, and a hunger that refused to die. Every late night, every deal, every dollar, all of it came from one place: the need to prove I didn't need her.
And I didn't.
When she left, she took the version of me that believed in love. What remained was sharper. Harder. Ruthless.
Now, when people say my name, they said it with respect or fear. Either way, I preferred it.
The glass office tower that bore my name looked down on the city like a fortress. Every time I stood there, watching the skyline, I reminded myself: You built this, Dave. Alone.
That morning had been like any other contracts, phone calls, meetings stacked back-to-back. I thrived on the pressure. It left no room for the past.
Mark, my assistant, followed me through the hallway, tablet in hand. "Sir, the Q3 projections are ready. Would you like a quick briefing before the lunch meeting?"
"Send it to my office," I said flatly.
"Yes, sir. Also, HR said the new finance recruit started this week. They wanted to"
"I don't need to know the name," I cut him off. "I pay people to handle that."
"Understood."
We reached the elevator, and as usual, people fell silent when I walked by. Heads dipped respectfully. I didn't acknowledge them. I didn't need to. My presence was enough.
But then
Someone collided with me.
Hard.
Files scattered to the floor. I turned sharply, irritation flashing. "Watch where you're"
And then I froze.
It couldn't be.
The woman crouched on the floor, gathering her papers in a rush. When she lifted her face, the air left my lungs.
Tiffany.
Six years evaporated in an instant.
Her eyes, the same brown that once looked at me like I was her world, widened in pure shock. Her breath hitched, her lips parting as if to speak, but no sound came.
For a long moment, I said nothing. My throat tightened, and something ugly twisted in my chest.
"Tiffany," I finally said, my voice low and edged.
She blinked rapidly, almost stumbling to her feet. "Dave…"
The way she said my name,soft, trembling,made something inside me twist tighter.
"What are you doing here?" I asked.
"I—I work here," she said quickly, clutching the files to her chest like a shield.
My brows drew together. "You what?"
She swallowed hard. "I started this week. In finance."
I stared at her, disbelief giving way to cold anger. "You work at my company?"
Her voice faltered. "I didn't know this was your firm. I swear I didn't."
"Really?" I asked, a hint of sarcasm sliding into my tone. "You expect me to believe that?"
Her eyes dropped to the floor. "I wouldn't have applied if I'd known."
I let out a humourless laugh. "Of course not. You've always had a talent for disappearing when things get inconvenient."
Her jaw tightened, and she looked up at me then, just for a second, and there it was: the same defiance that once made me want to kiss her and strangle her all at once.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I didn't mean to"
"Don't," I interrupted. "Don't say you're sorry. Not after everything."
She froze.
The silence between us was suffocating. I could feel the eyes of my employees flicking toward us, pretending to look busy while eavesdropping.
"Where have you been all this time?" I asked finally, my voice quieter, but colder.
Her grip tightened on the files. "That's not something I can explain here."
"You left without a word," I said sharply. "No calls. No letter. You just disappeared. And now you show up working under my roof?"
Her eyes glistened, and she bit her lip. "Please, Dave… not here. Please."
Something in her tone made my chest tighten, but I crushed it down. "Fine," I said coldly. "You can keep your job. But you stay out of my way. Understood?"
She nodded quickly, almost in relief. "Yes, sir."
The "sir" stung more than it should have. It was too formal, too distant. But maybe that was good. Maybe that was what I needed.
Without another word, I stepped past her and walked toward the exit. My heartbeat didn't slow until the elevator doors closed between us.
---
The rest of the day was chaos, but not because of work. My thoughts refused to stay where they belonged.
Every time I signed a document, every time someone spoke, her face flashed behind my eyes. I hated it. I hated that she still had that effect on me after everything.
When my phone buzzed, I snapped, "What is it, Mark?"
He hesitated on the other end. "Sir, the finance department requested approval for an extension on"
"Tell them to handle it," I said, then hung up.
By the time evening came, the office was nearly empty. I sat in the dim light of my office, the city glowing beneath me, and stared at my reflection in the glass.
She was really here. After six years.
I leaned back, rubbing a hand over my face. My mind kept replaying the way she looked at me like she didn't expect to survive standing that close to me. Maybe she shouldn't.
Because I wasn't the man she once knew.
I wasn't the man she left behind.
---
The next few days passed in tense, silent routine.
Whenever I walked through her department, she kept her eyes down, polite, distant, professional.
Good. I preferred it that way.
But the strange thing was,every time I saw her pretending I didn't exist, it bothered me more than I cared to admit.
She avoided me like the plague, and I told myself that's what I wanted. Yet every time she walked past, a memory clawed its way up,her laugh, her touch, her betrayal.
I thought I'd buried it all. Clearly, I was wrong.
Once, I overheard her in the hallway, her voice soft but steady, talking to a coworker. Something about her tone made me glance up. She smiled faintly at whatever was said, but it wasn't the smile I remembered. Hers used to reach her eyes. This one didn't.
I forced myself to look away. She wasn't my concern. Not anymore.
Later that week, Mark entered my office again, hesitant. "Sir, HR sent the updated employee chart. The new hire"
"I told you I don't want to hear her name," I snapped.
He nodded quickly. "Yes, sir."
He left.
I leaned back, exhaling slowly. My temper was slipping more easily these days, and I hated that she was the reason why.
I'd built everything from the ashes she left behind, wealth, power, control. And yet, one accidental encounter, and I felt that old crack forming again.
No. Not again.
Whatever she was doing here, whatever reason she had for crawling back into my world, I'd find out. And when I did, she'd regret it.
Because this time, I wasn't the man she could break.
---
A week later, I was heading to a late meeting when I caught a glimpse of her in the conference corridor. She was alone, reviewing some files. She didn't see me approach.
For a moment, I just watched her, calm, focused, unaware that every second of her existence in this building set me on edge.
Something in me twisted, anger, curiosity, maybe both.
Then she looked up, startled. "Mr. Carter."
Her voice was polite and distant. Exactly how I wanted it to be.
I gave her a slow nod. "Ms. Rayes."
She shifted awkwardly, lowering her gaze. "I was just reviewing the quarterly report before submitting it to finance."
"Good," I said curtly. "Keep it professional. That's what you're paid for."
Her lips pressed together. "Understood."
I should have walked away.
Instead, I found myself asking, "You said you needed stability. Is that what this is?"
She looked at me then, her expression unreadable. "Yes."
"After six years, that's what you came looking for?"
Her eyes flickered. "I came looking for a chance to start over. Not your approval."
For a moment, neither of us moved. Her words hit harder than I expected.
I clenched my jaw. "Careful, Tiffany. You're in my world now. Don't forget that."
She stared at me quietly, and then,for the first time since I'd seen her again, she gave a small, tired smile. "I never forgot, Dave. That's the problem."
And before I could respond, she turned and walked away.
I stood there, frozen, my mind racing. Her words echoed, sharp and haunting.
I never forgot, Dave. That's the problem.
Something in her tone wasn't defiant. It was regretful. Maybe even afraid.
For the first time in six years, I couldn't tell if I wanted answers… or revenge.
Either way, she wasn't leaving this time.
Not until I found out why she came back.