The elevator doors opened with a soft ding that echoed through the grand marble lobby of Valerio Holdings. Elira Cruz stepped out slowly, clutching her folder to her chest like armor. The polished floor reflected the soft white lights above, and every wall gleamed with the kind of clean that screamed “expensive.” Her humble black pumps felt too loud against the floor, each step announcing her presence like a drumroll in a library.

Her first day.

She swallowed hard.

A glass wall enclosed the executive offices ahead, where her future was about to begin. Just beyond it stood a reception desk, manned by a woman who looked like she walked off a runway—sleek ponytail, flawless makeup, manicured nails that tapped rhythmically on her keyboard. She barely looked up.

“Elira Cruz. I’m here to—”

“Personal secretary,” the receptionist cut in, giving her a once-over that wasn’t exactly unkind, but definitely skeptical. “You’re early. Mr. Valerio isn’t in yet.”

Before Elira could respond, the glass door opened behind her with a mechanical whoosh.

“He is now.”

The voice was calm. Measured. Male.

She turned.

The man who stepped into the room looked like every CEO article she’d skimmed on LinkedIn. Tall. Tailored. Too good-looking for someone who probably spent most of his time in meetings. His charcoal suit fit like it was stitched directly onto his frame. His expression, however, was unreadable—somewhere between bored and mildly amused.

“Liam Valerio,” he said, extending a hand.

Her breath caught. She reached out automatically, shaking his hand while trying not to let her anxiety show. His grip was firm but not crushing, warm without being sweaty. Basically everything about him was perfectly balanced. Effortless.

“Elira Cruz,” she replied, hoping her voice didn’t tremble. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

His mouth quirked slightly at the corner. Not quite a smile, but close. “Come. I’ll show you to your workspace.”

She followed him through a private hallway that smelled faintly of leather and some luxury cologne she couldn’t place. The kind that came in bottles with no labels and price tags that hurt to even think about.

“You’ll be seated just outside my office,” he said. “You’ll manage my calendar, coordinate my meetings, screen calls, and occasionally remind me to eat.”

She blinked. “Sir?”

He glanced at her. “You’ll see. I get tunnel vision.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she nodded instead.

He stopped by a sleek L-shaped desk with dual monitors, a tablet, and a stack of neatly arranged office supplies. It looked like something from a tech blog—way too advanced for someone who still used sticky notes for reminders.

“This is yours,” he said. “You’re welcome to customize it. But don’t bring any noisy keychains or bobbleheads.”

A nervous laugh slipped from her lips. “No problem. I travel light.”

He turned toward his glass office door but paused. “One more thing, Elira.”

“Yes, sir?”

“I prefer Liam.”

She hesitated. “Liam.”

“There we go.”

He disappeared into his office, leaving her to sit in her new chair and breathe—finally. She looked around and took in the surreal moment.

A job. A real one. With benefits. In a skyscraper. Working for a man who looked like he belonged on the cover of a business magazine.

She exhaled slowly and pulled out a tiny photo from her folder. It was worn and faded, showing a much younger her holding a diploma, flanked by no one. Her graduation photo. No family. No guests. Just a tripod and a ten-second timer.

She slipped it into her drawer quietly, unnoticed.

But she didn’t realize someone had noticed.

Behind the clear walls of his office, Liam watched her through the one-way tint. He saw the photo. He saw the quiet way she tucked it out of sight.

And it stirred something in him.

Not pity.

Recognition.

Because once, long ago, they had stood in the same room—different worlds, same campus.

She didn’t remember him.

But he had never forgotten her.

Liam Valerio sat in his office, fingers tapping lightly against the edge of his espresso cup. The morning sun filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting gold across the minimalist desk and bookshelves lined with industry awards and leather-bound reports. It was quiet—his kind of quiet—where the world slowed enough for thoughts to surface.

And this morning, all his thoughts had one thing in common:

Elira Cruz.

She hadn’t changed much since college.

Her hair was a little longer now, her frame slightly leaner, the shadows beneath her eyes a touch deeper—but it was her. The same girl who used to sit two rows ahead of him in Business Communication, tapping her pencil against her notebook like a metronome. Always focused. Always late, always breathless, always alone.

Liam had noticed her the first week of freshman year. Not because she spoke up or stood out—but because she didn’t. She melted into the background, kept her head down, and moved like the world was made of landmines. Yet there was something about the way she moved through her struggle with grace that made her unforgettable.

And now here she was.

Sitting just outside his office.

With no memory of him whatsoever.

A sharp knock on the glass interrupted his thoughts. The door opened a second later, and Elira peeked in with a notebook in hand.

“Good morning, sir—I mean, Liam.” She looked like she winced internally, her fingers gripping the notepad tighter. “You have a call with the board in twenty minutes. I’ve printed the brief you asked for. Also, your breakfast is arriving in five. I hope you’re okay with turkey bacon?”

He blinked. “You ordered me breakfast?”

“You said yesterday you had tunnel vision and forgot to eat, and I thought—well—sorry. I probably overstepped.”

A slow smile tugged at the edge of his mouth. “No. You didn’t. That was thoughtful, Elira.”

Her eyes widened just slightly, like she wasn’t used to praise. She nodded and backed out of the room, cheeks tinged pink. The door clicked softly shut behind her.

Liam leaned back in his chair, unable to suppress the grin that crept up.

She hadn’t changed.

Not really.

---

Outside, Elira returned to her desk, face burning.

What was wrong with her?

He was just being nice. Just… human. That smile probably meant nothing. CEOs smiled at their staff all the time. She was imagining things. It didn’t mean he liked her. It didn’t mean he remembered her—

Wait. Remember her?

She scoffed at herself. As if.

Back in college, she was a ghost. Nobody remembered the girl who sat in the corners and lived off instant noodles. She was invisible by design. She had to be. Being visible meant being vulnerable, and she’d learned early on how dangerous that was.

Her phone buzzed with a message from reception: Vivienne Aragon is here to see Mr. Valerio.

Elira frowned. The name wasn’t on today’s calendar.

She picked up the intercom and buzzed his line. “Liam? A Miss Vivienne Aragon is here. No appointment.”

There was a pause before his reply. “Send her in.”

Curious, Elira stood to escort the woman in personally, and when she saw her, she immediately understood why Liam hadn’t said more.

Vivienne was stunning.

Tall, poised, wrapped in a blood-red pantsuit that screamed confidence and chaos all at once. Her dark hair cascaded down her back in soft waves, and she wore stilettos that looked better suited for a fashion runway than an office.

“Mr. Valerio is expecting you,” Elira said, keeping her tone polite and professional.

Vivienne offered her a smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “You must be the new girl. Adorable. I can see why he’s smiling again.”

Elira blinked. “Excuse me?”

But Vivienne had already brushed past her like a gust of perfume and poison.

Elira sat back down at her desk, trying not to stare at the glass office, where Vivienne was now leaning dramatically on Liam’s desk. Whatever conversation was happening, it was clearly not about spreadsheets.

---

Inside the office, Liam stood with his arms crossed, his expression guarded.

“Vivienne,” he said evenly, “I didn’t know you were back in the country.”

“Surprise,” she replied, running a finger along the edge of a crystal paperweight. “You always liked surprises.”

“I don’t recall liking you throwing them without warning.”

She laughed, the sound hollow. “Still sharp. Still bitter.” Her eyes flicked toward the door. “So… the new secretary. She's cute. A little plain, but that seems to be your type these days.”

Liam didn’t respond.

Vivienne took a step closer. “I’m back for good, Liam. And I want back in. The company. The… arrangements. Us.”

“There’s no ‘us,’ Vivienne.”

She arched an eyebrow. “There could be. If you stopped pretending you’re over me.”

“I’m not pretending.” His voice was like steel now. “And this conversation is over.”

Vivienne’s smile faltered for a moment, but she recovered quickly. “You’ll change your mind.”

With that, she turned and sauntered out of the office, brushing past Elira without another word.

Liam stood at the window, his reflection barely visible in the glass.

He should’ve blocked her number years ago.

---

Back at her desk, Elira tried to focus on her spreadsheet, but her mind kept drifting to the way Vivienne looked at her—as if she were some fly on the wall, barely worth noticing. That woman had history with Liam. She could tell.

And if she were smart, she’d stay out of it.

But for some reason, her chest felt tight, and her brain wouldn’t stop replaying that smug smile.

Elira wasn’t here to get involved in anything other than work.

She had come too far to get distracted now.

But even as she told herself that, she couldn’t help but glance toward the door again… and wonder.

Elira arrived at the office early the next morning, hoping to get ahead of her tasks before the rest of the floor filled with chatter and heels clicking on tile. She needed to anchor herself—anything to keep her mind from wandering to the vision of Vivienne leaning into Liam’s office, eyes full of something between confidence and possession.

The thought alone made her stomach twist.

But she wasn’t here for that.

She was here to work.

She powered on her computer, poured herself a cup of the overpriced Colombian roast from the shared machine, and sat down with her notepad. Meetings at nine, updated reports by eleven, and a new investor welcome package to prep by end of day. She loved having a list—it gave her something to control.

“Look who’s early again.”

Elira turned and saw a woman with strawberry blonde curls and tortoiseshell glasses waving from across the hallway. She was dressed in a mustard blazer, balancing two coffees and a laptop bag.

“Elira, right?” the woman said, walking over. “I’m Harper! Harper Ling. I work in Investor Relations, but I keep tabs on everyone. It’s sort of my unofficial role. Gossip sponge, PR buffer, part-time chaos wrangler.”

Elira chuckled, instantly warming to her energy. “Nice to meet you. Want me to hold one of those?”

“Please,” Harper said, gratefully handing over a cup. “I saw you survive Vivienne yesterday. That deserves caffeine.”

So the whole floor saw it.

Harper leaned against the edge of her desk. “Don’t let her get in your head. She’s an ex, not a supervillain. Okay, maybe a little of both.”

“She seemed… confident,” Elira said carefully.

“That’s a nice word for it. Don’t worry, though—Vivienne doesn’t stick around long. She’ll stir the pot and fly back to wherever rich fashion people go to sulk.”

Elira smirked. “Sounds peaceful.”

Harper winked. “It is. When she’s gone.”

Just then, footsteps approached, accompanied by the faint scent of clean soap and cedarwood cologne. Liam.

“Good morning,” he said, stopping at Elira’s desk. His tie was loose today, shirt sleeves rolled up just past his elbows. Casual, but not unprofessional. Just enough to make her pulse stutter.

“Morning, Liam,” Harper chirped.

“Elira, when you get a chance, I’d like you to sit in on the pitch prep with the innovation team. I want your notes. Fresh perspective.”

Elira blinked. “Me? In the prep meeting?”

“Unless you’re busy?”

“No! No, I’m not. I’d love to.”

“Good,” he said, then disappeared into his office without another word.

Harper watched him go and gave Elira a slow side-eye. “Huh.”

“What?” Elira asked, already trying to steady her nerves.

“He doesn’t usually bring his secretary into pitch preps.”

Elira stared at her screen, pretending to focus. “I’m sure it’s just a one-time thing.”

“Sure,” Harper said with a knowing smile. “Totally.”

---

The innovation team’s meeting room was a stylish mess of whiteboards, monitors, sample products, and snacks. Elira took a seat quietly in the corner, notebook at the ready.

Across the table sat a man with messy black hair, blue light glasses, and a worn hoodie under a blazer. He looked up from his laptop and smiled.

“You must be the new hire,” he said. “Elira, right?”

“Yes. Personal secretary to Mr. Valerio.”

He extended a hand. “Reid Moreno. Head of Product Dev. I’m the guy who blows half the budget, and Liam lets me because he secretly loves chaos.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, shaking his hand.

“You’ll fit in fine. Just don’t touch the coffee pods labeled ‘engineer fuel.’ They’re mine. Non-negotiable.”

Liam entered a moment later, drawing immediate silence without needing to raise his voice. His presence had that effect—an unspoken command that made even the most talkative employees sit straighter.

The meeting began, and Elira focused on taking notes. She was used to fast-paced environments, but this was a different level. Graphs, KPIs, projected ROI—all flying across the screen. And yet, she noticed something.

Every few minutes, Liam’s gaze drifted her way.

Not in a distracting or obvious way. Just enough that she felt it.

She wasn’t sure if it meant he was checking her focus or… something else.

---

After the meeting, Reid caught up with her near the elevator.

“So,” he said, slinging his laptop bag over one shoulder. “You survived Vivienne and pitch prep. That makes you one of us.”

“One of who?” she asked.

“The survivors. People who stick around long enough to matter.”

He gave her a quick grin before walking off, and Elira was left blinking at his words.

Did she want to matter here?

She wasn’t sure. She’d been trying not to.

---

Back at her desk, she found a post-it on her monitor in Liam’s handwriting.

“You handled yourself well today. Clear, concise notes. Impressed.” —L

Elira stared at it for a full minute before folding it in half and slipping it into her drawer.

She told herself it was just encouragement. Nothing more.

But she smiled the rest of the day anyway.