Damien Point of view
The elevator opened with a hiss, revealing my floor—executive access only. The silence wrapped around me like a glove. Not welcoming. Controlled.
Logan Chen waited near my office, tablet in hand, black suit impeccable. Always early. Always efficient. That's why I kept him.
"Mr. Lu," he greeted. No wasted words. That's how I liked it.
"Logan." I kept my pace steady, walking right into my office, where the floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the skyline—a skyline that I had left my mark on. Steel, concrete, power. My legacy. My rules.
The office hadn't changed in two years. Minimalist. Cold. Functional. The only warmth in this room came from the scotch I hadn't poured yet.
Logan placed the documents on the obsidian conference table. "Finals for Southpoint acquisition, NDA renewals, and"—he hesitated—"the marriage file."
I unbuttoned my cuffs and rolled them back. "Give me the pen."
He handed me the Montblanc. I didn't bother reading. I paid lawyers for a reason. Page one, signature. Flip. Page two, signature. Flip. The final folder sat at the bottom of the stack. Thicker than necessary.
The tab read: MARRIAGE DISSOLUTION – ELLA LU
That name.
Ella Lu.
Still no face in my mind. Just a courthouse. A judge. Her voice saying, "Yes."
I leaned back in the chair and stared at the file like it might explode. "This all of it?"
"Yes, sir. Background checks. Employment records. Confirmed match. She's an analyst in our Operations Division. Joined six months ago through admin outsourcing, converted three months in."
"Smart girl," I muttered. "No one caught it."
"No one looked."
"Still." I tapped my fingers against the folder. "She used a different surname on her employee profile?"
"'Ella Lin.' Maternal side."
I let the silence stretch. The name didn't spark anything except unease. Why didn't I remember her face? Was it really that insignificant to me?
"Pull her security footage."
Logan blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Elevator cameras. Floor activity. I want to see her moving through this building. Who she talks to. Where she eats. Who she avoids."
Logan didn't flinch. "Discreetly, or…?"
"I want her to stay blind to this. For now."
He nodded.
I stood and moved toward the window, dragging a finger along the glass. Below, Lu Group employees moved like ants. Productive. Obedient. Replaceable.
Except her. Ella Lu.
"What else?" I asked.
Logan tapped the tablet. "She lives in District Nine. Small apartment. No car. No public media presence. No dating profiles. Bank records show consistent deposits, stable budgeting, no luxury expenses. She's… unremarkable."
Unremarkable.
So why did I remember nothing except the way her name sounded like a challenge?
"Have the papers drafted but not served."
Logan hesitated. "You're not dissolving?"
"Not yet."
"May I ask—"
"No."
I turned. "She's here, working under my nose, and didn't come forward. That's either tactical or cowardly. I want to find out which."
"You want to meet her?"
"I want to see her."
"You could call her in—"
"No," I snapped. "She'll see me coming. She's already hiding."
Logan shut the tablet. "Understood."
As he started gathering the folders, I gestured to the marriage file.
"Leave it."
He paused. "Sir?"
"I said, leave it."
He carefully set the folder on the table and walked away without saying anything else.
As soon as the door clicked shut, I settled back down and opened the file.
The first page was a grainy scan of the marriage license. My name. Her signature. The courthouse date.
Second page—blank photo. No image on file. Clever.
I skimmed further. College records. Clean GPA. No red flags. Volunteering in a literacy program. No criminal history. Medical report from five years ago. Some family trauma. A mother listed as next of kin, deceased last year. No father mentioned.
No dirt to dig up. Just… gaps. Clean ones.
I stared at her name again.
This wasn't supposed to matter. She was a placeholder, a legal tool. A box I checked on the way to the throne. That's what I told myself for two years. That's what I told Chloe when she pressed me about that sealed chapter.
"You were young, pressured," she'd said. "It wasn't love."
Of course it wasn't. I don't do love.
I do contracts. Power. Control.
So why the hell did this woman keep unsettling that?
I stood and walked to the minibar. No ice. Just a splash of something dark and aged. I sipped, staring out over the city like it might give me an answer.
What did she want?
Why come here?
Coincidence? No. Nothing about this world worked on coincidence. Ella Lu had come here for a reason. Either to confront me or watch me fall.
But she hadn't confronted me. She kept quiet. She did her work. She let my name pass her lips every day in silence, while I sat in Europe signing billion-dollar deals.
She had patience.
I respected that.
But it didn't mean I'd let her keep control of the story.
She belonged to a forgotten contract—an expired deal. The fact that I didn't recognize her only proved she meant nothing.
So why was I already planning to reroute my entire afternoon just to walk by the eighteenth floor.