A feeling of raw, mutilated wound came afresh as she felt the wind under her skin. An uninviting battle that even the most astute soul will collapse under a winding tug of love, devotion and obligation.
The air of Singapore felt different when you came back with nothing.
Once, Elena Cruz had returned home to luxury, chauffeurs waiting in sleek black cars, silk luggage trailing behind her, cameras flashing to catch the smile of the Cruz heiress. Her arrival was once a spectacle. Her name had meant something then.
Now, she came back in silence.
No one waited for her at the airport. Not a single camera. Just the hiss of rain against glass as her taxi sped down the highway, cutting through a city that had forgotten her name.
She pressed her forehead lightly against the window, watching the skyline blur, Marina Bay's towers glinting like knives beneath the storm clouds. The city hadn't changed. She had.
Her hands tightened around the handle of her purse, the only designer item she still owned. Every other piece of her old life had been sold, one by one, to pay off debts that kept multiplying faster than she could breathe.
Her phone buzzed.
"Miss Cruz," her lawyer's voice came through, calm but carrying that tone of pity she'd learned to hate. "The creditors have refused another extension. Vega Holdings has purchased the remaining debts. You'll need to face them directly."
Elena's breath hitched.
Vega Holdings.
The name landed like a slap.
There were many Vegas in Singapore, politicians, businessmen, socialites, but only one that mattered.
Her throat went dry. "Adrian Vega?"
There was a pause on the line, as if even her lawyer feared the name. "Yes. He's expecting you at three."
Elena closed her eyes, fighting the tremor in her chest.
Years ago, Adrian Vega had been the boy who made her believe in forever. The son of her father's business rival, intelligent, ambitious, and impossibly magnetic. They'd fallen hard, recklessly, believing love could outlast pride and power.
Until the day he disappeared.
No calls. No letters. No explanation.
And now, he held her life, her family's future, in his hands.
By the time she reached Vega Tower, the rain had softened to a gray drizzle, the kind that made the world feel smaller and lonelier.
The lobby gleamed like a cathedral of glass and ambition, men in tailored suits, women in heels that clicked like warning shots. She felt out of place in her worn blazer and rain-damp hair, a ghost from a forgotten past.
The receptionist's polite smile faltered when she read the name on Elena's ID. "Mr. Vega is expecting you," she said, her voice softening, like she'd just realized who Elena was, or what she used to be.
The elevator ride felt endless. As it climbed, Elena's reflection wavered in the mirrored walls, tired eyes, pale lips, a fragile mask of composure.
When the doors opened, she stepped into a world built entirely in black, steel, and silence.
The office at the top floor wasn't just a workspace. It was a throne room. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls framed the city below, the skyline shimmering like a promise or a warning.
And there he was.
Adrian Vega stood by the window, hands in his pockets, shoulders straight, the storm's reflection cutting sharp lines across his face.
Time hadn't softened him. It had refined him, like steel tempered by fire.
The boy she had once loved was gone.
The man who turned to face her was carved from control, precision, and something far colder.
"Miss Cruz."
His voice was smooth, deep, and devastatingly composed, too polite to be kind, too quiet to be merciful.
"Mr. Vega," she managed. "Thank you for seeing me."
He turned, his dark eyes locking onto her like a blade finding its mark.
"It's been a long time," he said, studying her with an unreadable expression. "I see the years haven't been kind."
Her chin lifted. "I'm not here for nostalgia. I'm here to settle my father's debts."
He smiled faintly, the kind of smile that didn't reach his eyes. "And how do you plan to do that?"
"I'll sell what's left of the properties. The Manila townhouse. The shares in..."
Adrian cut her off with a quiet, lethal tone. "Your father owed me more than money."
She frowned, heartbeat quickening. "What do you mean?"
He walked closer, slow and deliberate, like a predator testing distance. The scent of his cologne, crisp and dangerous, filled the space between them.
"You owe me everything, Elena," he said softly. "And I always collect my debts."
The rain outside deepened, streaking down the glass like tears she refused to shed.
"I'll pay whatever is necessary," she said, forcing steadiness she didn't feel. "Just tell me the amount."
Adrian's gaze lingered, on the tremor in her hands, the defiance in her eyes, the woman who refused to beg.
Finally, he spoke.
"There's only one way out of this," he said, voice low and almost cruel in its calm.
"You'll marry me."
Elena froze. "What?" It was deafening declaration that she could not fathom.
"One year," Adrian continued, his tone businesslike, almost detached. "You'll be Mrs. Vega, in name, in public, in contract. After that, we part ways."
She stared at him, stunned. "You can't be serious."
"Oh, I'm very serious." His eyes hardened. "You'll have everything again, the house, the protection, the name. In return, I get exactly what I want."
"And what is that?" she whispered.
"Closure," he said, stepping closer until his breath brushed her cheek. "And revenge."
Her pulse roared in her ears. "This isn't mercy, Adrian. It's punishment."
He tilted his head slightly, a glimmer of something unreadable in his eyes. "You call it punishment. I call it balance."
The silence between them stretched, thick with years of unspoken questions, lost love, and the cruel satisfaction of power finally reversed.
Elena took a shaky step back, trying to breathe past the weight of his words. "You don't want a wife. You want a hostage."
Adrian's smirk returned. "Then you understand perfectly."
She turned toward the door, but his voice stopped her mid-step.
"Refuse me, and your family loses everything. The house. The accounts. Even your mother's medication. All gone, Elena. Think carefully."
Her hand trembled on the doorknob. She wanted to scream, to curse him for turning love into a weapon. But she couldn't. Because behind his cruelty was the truth, he could destroy what little she had left.
She looked back, meeting his gaze across the room.
"You're a monster," she said quietly.
Adrian's expression didn't change. "I learned from the best."
The rain outside thundered harder, echoing the chaos inside her chest.
Elena drew a breath, her voice breaking. "One year?"
"One year," he confirmed, his tone final.
"And after that?"
His lips curved. "After that, you'll be free. If you still want to be."
The elevator doors closed behind her, sealing her into silence.
For the first time in years, she felt the past clawing back, the boy she once loved now a man she could barely recognize. The man who now owned her future.
As the elevator descended, she pressed her palm against her chest, trying to steady the rhythm of her racing heart.
She'd come to pay a debt.
She never expected to sell her soul.
And somewhere above, in the glass tower she'd left behind, Adrian Vega watched the rain fall, his reflection split by the storm, and whispered to himself, almost tenderly,
"Welcome home, Elena."