The Thorne Enterprises boardroom hadn't changed. Same mahogany table, same city view, same sense of power and history.
But the man at the head of the table was different.
Adrian Thorne looked... diminished. Still handsome, still commanding, but with shadows under his eyes and a pallor that spoke of illness unmanaged. His suit hung slightly loose, as if he'd lost weight he couldn't afford to lose.
He stood when Nancy entered, and for a moment, neither spoke.
"Ms. Clark." His voice was the same—velvet over steel—but softer. Tired. "Welcome back to New York."
"Mr. Thorne." Nancy took her seat, crossing her legs with deliberate elegance. She'd worn red today—the color of power, of warning, of blood. "Shall we discuss business, or would you prefer to reminisce?"
The barb landed. Adrian flinched, almost imperceptibly. "Business, of course. Your offer to acquire our Asian division is... generous."
"Generous?" Nancy laughed. "It's predatory, Adrian. I'm offering forty cents on the dollar for assets worth three times as much. You need cash, I need infrastructure. It's not generosity—it's opportunity."
"Taking advantage of my company's... difficulties."
"Just as you took advantage of my love?" Nancy leaned forward, her smile sharp enough to cut. "Don't lecture me about exploitation, Adrian. We both know you're not in a position to judge."
The board members shifted uncomfortably. This wasn't how negotiations were conducted. But Nancy didn't care. She hadn't come to negotiate. She'd come to conquer.
"Gentlemen," Adrian said quietly, "would you excuse us?"
"Adrian—" the CFO protested.
"Now."
They filed out, leaving Nancy and Adrian alone with three years of silence and pain.
"You look well," he said finally.
"I am well. Thriving, actually." Nancy stood, walking to the window, putting distance between them. "Singapore was good for me. No memories, no judgments, no former lovers believing the worst of me without asking."
"Nancy—"
"Do you know what I learned there?" She turned, her eyes blazing. "I learned that I'm capable of more than being someone's assistant, someone's girlfriend, someone's mistake. I built a billion-dollar firm from nothing. I learned languages, mastered markets, became someone you would never have recognized."
"I would have recognized you anywhere." Adrian's voice was rough. "I never stopped—"
"Don't." Nancy held up a hand. "Don't say you never stopped loving me. Don't say you made a mistake. I don't want your regret, Adrian. I want your company. I want your signature on the acquisition papers. I want you to feel, for one moment, what it's like to have something you value taken away without explanation or recourse."
Adrian stood, moving toward her with careful steps. Too careful, Nancy realized. The illness. It was worse than the rumors suggested.
"Take it," he said simply. "Take the division. Take whatever you want." He stopped an arm's length away, close enough that she could smell his cologne—same scent, same memories, same ache. "But hear me first. One explanation. One truth. Then you can destroy me, if that's what you need."
"I don't need anything from you."
"Then do it for the girl you were. The one who believed in second chances." Adrian's eyes were wet, desperate. "Please, Nancy. Three minutes. Then I'll sign whatever you want."
Nancy should have walked out. Should have maintained her power, her distance, her rage. But something in his voice—the same vulnerability she'd fallen for years ago—made her nod. Once. Sharp.
"Three minutes."