trece

It’s been what? A decade?

Ten years since I last handled the company. And now, it’s thriving. No more financial disasters. No more desperate late-night meetings trying to salvage what was left. It stands strong without me. Maybe even better.

Since I left, I made sure to leave everything behind—my position, my obligations, even my phone. I disappeared so thoroughly that no one could reach me, no matter how hard they tried.

I built a life away from all of it, away from the chaos, away from the people I used to know.

Including Alice.

Or should I even be talking about her?

I push the thought aside and turn my attention back to the present.

My eyes land on the stack of resignation letters on my desk—at the very top, the one from my last assistant. I don’t even bother reading it. I already know what it says.

It’s never about the work. The salary is generous, the hours manageable. The problem has always been me.

I ask too much. Demand too much.

I don’t tolerate mistakes. I don’t have patience for excuses. And I certainly don’t have the time to hold anyone’s hand through this job.

So, they leave.

One after another.

Now, I need a new assistant. Someone who won’t run at the first sign of pressure. Someone competent. Efficient. Someone who understands that this isn’t just a job—it’s survival.

I press the intercom button. "Find me a replacement. I don’t care where or how—just get it done."

A beat of silence, then a nervous voice on the other end. "Right away, ma’am."

I lean back in my chair, exhaling slowly.

It’s always the same cycle.

And it always ends the same way.

The door slams open.

I don’t even look up.

Only one person in this entire building has the audacity to barge in without knocking.

"Loren."

I say her name with a sigh, my fingers pressing against my temple.

"You didn’t even last a decade." Her voice is sharp, filled with irritation. "I told you, Hontiveros. You wouldn’t be able to handle running away forever."

I finally meet her glare, unfazed. "And yet, the company is still standing."

"Because of me," she snaps, stepping closer. "Because you dumped it all on me and vanished. You assigned me this damn company, told me to handle it, and left without so much as a backup plan."

"And you did handle it," I point out, gesturing around us. "Thriving, isn’t it?"

Loren scoffs. "You think this is funny? You think you can just waltz back in and act like nothing happened? Like you didn’t throw me into the fire and disappear?"

I close the folder in front of me and lean back in my chair. "I trusted you the most. That’s why I left it to you."

She lets out a bitter laugh. "No, you ran. That’s the truth. You ran from everything—this company, your responsibilities, Alice."

Her name lingers in the air like a curse.

I say nothing.

Loren shakes her head, crossing her arms. "And now what? You’re back, demanding a new assistant because the last one quit? What was it this time—your impossible standards, or did they finally realize working for you is a nightmare?"

I keep my expression unreadable. "I don’t tolerate incompetence."

"You don’t tolerate people, period," she fires back. "And that’s the problem."

Silence stretches between us. Loren exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Tell me, Risa. Why are you really back?"

I glance at the clock, then back at her. "That’s a long conversation, and I have work to do."

She narrows her eyes. "You always do this."

I give her a small, unreadable smile. "And you always come back."

The night drags on.

The office is quiet except for the soft hum of the city outside. My desk lamp casts a cold glow over the scattered files and resignation letters I haven’t bothered to read.

Loren left hours ago, after throwing one last jab my way. It’s nothing new. She always acts like she’s done with me, but we both know she never really is.

I lean back in my chair, exhaling slowly. My eyes flick to the untouched glass of whiskey on my desk.

I reach for it but stop halfway.

No. Not tonight.

Instead, I stand, grabbing my coat as I decide to step out for air. My office feels suffocating. Too many ghosts lurking in the shadows.

The hallway is silent as I walk, my heels clicking against the polished floor. Most employees have gone home. Only the night staff remain, moving like ghosts in the dimly lit corridors.

I step into the lobby, pausing by the glass doors. The city sprawls beyond, alive with lights and movement. A different kind of chaos. One I don’t belong to.

The night air is cold when I step outside.

I tell myself it’s just to clear my head—to get away from the suffocating silence of my office. But as I walk through the dimly lit lobby, something feels… off.

Then, I see it.

A figure just outside the glass doors, standing still under the streetlights.

My breath catches.

Alice.

She’s facing away, her posture familiar, her presence unmistakable. My pulse quickens, my fingers clenching around the fabric of my coat.

She shouldn’t be here. She can’t be here.

I blink.

She’s gone.

The streetlights cast no shadow where she stood. The space is empty, as if nothing had been there at all.

A slow, creeping chill settles in my spine.

I take a step forward, pressing my palm against the cold glass, scanning the street. Nothing. No trace of her.

Just my mind, playing cruel tricks again.

I let out a quiet laugh, shaking my head. "Damn it."

Maybe I do need that drink after all.