Ben Wang's chest pounded like a drum he couldn't silence.
He had watched her in the conference hall—Alessandra. Flawless, composed, elegant, untouchable. Every gesture, every measured word, every slight nod: perfect. She had stepped into the room and owned it without a single person noticing the storm she stirred in him.
He could not let this chance slip. Not again.
Glancing at the executives, now absorbed in reviewing the signed MOA, he muttered something about checking a detail and excused himself. His movements were casual, deliberate—but his mind was a hurricane.
I can't miss her this time. I won't.
He bolted down the hall, heart racing with every step, pulse synced to the rhythm of her name in his mind: Ale… Alessandra…
He darted into conference rooms, peeked behind pillars, and scanned the elevators and every corner of the hotel lobby. Nothing. Silence.
Finally, he arrived at the hotel reception, his breath coming fast, his chest tight. He tried to steady his voice, but urgency leaked through every syllable.
"Reception," he asked sharply, "can you tell me—Alessandra Hernandez?" Which room is she in? "
The receptionist's polite smile didn't reach her eyes.
"Mr. Wang… she just checked out. She's heading to the airport. She was running late."
Ben's stomach plummeted.
"Airport? His voice was tight, incredulous. "She… she's leaving? "
The receptionist nodded. "Yes, sir. She mentioned she was in a hurry. The translator the Philippine team booked couldn't make it, so she stepped in. But she isn't staying—she has a client back home. She said she's running late."
Ben felt the ground shift beneath him.
She came here… for me… even though it wasn't her job.
He bolted outside, eyes scanning the street, heart thundering. The city roared around him—taxis weaving, sedans gliding, people moving unaware of the drama unfolding.
And then he saw her.
There. Her figure was seated in a black sedan. The dress hugged her frame perfectly, hair tied back, posture impeccable. She glanced at her watch, just for a moment, unaware of the storm racing toward her.
"ALE—! " he shouted, voice cracking, arms flailing.
But the tires squealed. The car slipped into traffic, disappearing around the corner before he could reach her.
Ben stumbled back onto the sidewalk, fists clenched, heart in his throat.
Too late… again.
A voice cut through the chaos.
"Mr. Wang! Where are you going? "
Natasha Chen, poised and commanding even in the chaos, had appeared beside him. Calm. Observant. Impossible to ignore.
"I… I need to go after her," he gasped, chest heaving.
"After who? " she asked, tilting her head, curiosity mixed with caution.
"She… she just left," he muttered, eyes fixed on the disappearing black sedan. "Alessandra Hernandez. She's—she's leaving."
Natasha's brow furrowed. "Leaving? To the airport? "
He nodded, jaw tight. "She wasn't supposed to… I have to see her again."
Natasha stepped closer, measured and insistent. "Ben, return to the conference room. Everyone is looking for you. You can't just leave in the middle of the signing."
He shook his head, barely hearing her. The world had narrowed to the image of her—the woman who had risked stepping in as translator, the woman who had captivated him in minutes, flawless and untouchable.
"I can't. Not this time. I can't let her slip away again."
Natasha's eyes softened slightly, realization flickering. She knew better than to try to stop him—at least not without consequences—but she called after him anyway.
"Ben! Please! Come back! This is the MOA signing. Everyone is waiting! "
He didn't respond. His mind, his heart, and his entire being were fixed on her.
And as the black sedan disappeared around the corner, he whispered into the night, his voice tight with desperation, raw and unfiltered:
Not again, Ale… not again.
The city around him blurred—the lights, the cars, the pedestrians—all irrelevant. Only the memory of her, only the sight of her, only the thought of her slipping through his fingers haunted him.
The chase had begun. And this time… he would not let go.