Ares's POV
The Crestfall Gala shimmered like a jewel box cracked open, all glitter and ambition spilling onto polished marble floors. Chandeliers dripped light across the hall, music swelled beneath the chatter, and laughter curved like smoke through the air. Normally, I thrived in this atmosphere... scheming, negotiating, winning. But tonight, I wasn't present.
My attention was chained to one figure.
The new representative from Duvall Holdings.
Her entrance had shifted something inside me, something I couldn't define. The world tilted for half a second when I saw her, as though gravity itself bent around her presence. She wasn't just another heiress being paraded into society. No... her very existence scraped at something buried deep in me.
"Are you alright, Ares?" Cassian's voice broke through the haze. He stood at my side, his glass of scotch untouched, his brow creased. "You've been silent since her speech."
I forced my gaze away from her and onto him. "I'm fine. Just thinking."
"Thinking about the Duvall woman?" His lips curved into a smirk. "You seemed... taken."
"Don't start." My tone came out sharper than I intended, and Cassian raised an eyebrow but wisely let it go. Still, the damage was done... he'd noticed. Everyone noticed when I wasn't myself.
But how could I be, with her across the room? The woman who laughed lightly with a circle of executives, yet whose eyes scanned the crowd like a soldier gauging enemies. Too guarded. Too poised. Too familiar.
"Her speech," I said at last, lowering my voice. "She's not timid. She carries herself like someone reborn."
Cassian studied me for a beat before answering. "Maybe she is. People reinvent themselves all the time. You of all people should appreciate that."
"Appreciate?" I gave a dry laugh. "That's not the word. Something about her feels... dangerous."
"Or intriguing."
I didn't answer. Across the room, she turned her head, and for the briefest heartbeat, our eyes met. Something flared there... recognition? accusation?... before she looked away, dismissing me as if I were nothing. My jaw tightened.
"I want a full profile on Duvall Holdings and their new representative," I said. My voice was cool, decisive, the way I gave commands that changed the fate of corporations. "Background, connections, everything."
Cassian inclined his head, smirk fading. "Understood. Though, forgive me for saying so, you've never been one to chase shadows."
"This isn't shadow." My eyes followed her again. "This is fire."
A Dangerously Distance
The gala's afterparty swelled, glasses refilled, deals whispered in corners. I stood apart, silent, letting Cassian handle the eager vultures who circled me. My gaze stayed locked on her.
She moved like a storm contained in silk... every smile calculated, every gesture pulling people into her orbit. Executives leaned closer when she spoke, captivated. I could see it: she was building alliances with the ease of a queen arranging pawns on a chessboard.
But what unsettled me most was the restraint. The way she let no one too close. The subtle shift of her body whenever someone reached toward her arm. Distance, wrapped in charm.
More than once, I caught her eyes staring in my direction. Quick. Cool. Assessing. And every time, I felt the old ground beneath me crack.
Cassian drifted back to my side. "She has them eating from her hand already."
"I noticed."
"And it bothers you."
I gave him a sharp look. "What bothers me is that she feels... familiar. As if she's not just here for business."
Cassian smirked faintly. "Maybe she's here for you."
I didn't dignify that with a response. Instead, I watched as she excused herself from her circle and disappeared through the crowd, her wine glass untouched. The echo of her presence lingered long after.
And I knew, with chilling certainty, this was only the beginning.
The Shadow of Memory
By the time the last limousine whisked away the boardroom parasites, I'd retreated to my office upstairs. From the glass walls, I could still see the ballroom's dying glow, but I needed distance. Silence.
Her face haunted me.
I leaned back in my chair, loosening my tie, muttering to no one, "Why do I know you?"
Images stuttered through my mind like broken film: a girl with fire in her eyes, laughter I had once crushed, trust I had once betrayed. No... impossible. That girl was gone. Erased. And yet... the Duvall woman felt like her ghost.
My phone buzzed. Alex, my assistant.
"She left the gala thirty minutes ago," he reported. "Black sedan, tinted windows. Rented under Duvall Holdings. Destination: Grand Sterling Hotel, penthouse suite."
My grip on the phone tightened. The Sterling. Of course. Coincidence? I didn't believe in those.
"Keep eyes on her," I ordered. "Discreetly. I don't want her tipped off."
"Yes, sir."
I ended the call and sat forward, elbows on my desk. My reflection glared back at me in the glass, jaw set.
Something was off. And I was going to tear it open.
Obsession
Sleep was a stranger that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I replayed her movements: the tilt of her chin, the steel hidden beneath charm, the way her gaze had sliced through me as though she knew me better than I wanted her to.
I'd built empires on reading people. CEOs who lied with practiced ease, politicians who bartered loyalty like currency. Yet she... she knew how to hide. Which only meant she had something worth hiding.
And I was going to uncover it.
The Dossier
By morning, I was already at my headquarters, running on nothing but caffeine and obsession. Meetings blurred, calls droned on. My mind stayed fixed on one thing.
When Alex finally stepped into my office at noon, holding a slim folder, the room sharpened into focus.
"Sir," he said, laying it on my desk. "The dossier you requested."
I dismissed everyone else with a wave. My pulse hammered as I opened the folder.
The first page was sterile. Corporate profile. A photograph. Background neatly typed in black ink.
But then... her name.
Jasmine Duvall.
The air left my lungs.
The letters blurred as though mocking me.
Not a ghost. Not a trick of memory.
Her.
Alive. Standing in my world again.
The girl I had left behind.
I gripped the folder until the paper crumpled under my fist. Anger flared, hot and immediate, but regret bled through, sharper, heavier.
"Jasmine." I muttered, tasting ash on my tongue.
Cassian, who had slipped in quietly behind Alex stiffened at the name. "You know her?"
"Yes." My voice was low, clipped. "I knew her once."
His eyes narrowed. "What does this mean for us?"
"It means everything just changed."
"Do you have history with her?"
"I have a past," I corrected, slamming the folder shut. "And it's not one I'm proud of. I left her behind. And now she's here... standing in my way."
Cassian studied me carefully. "Maybe it's time to confront that past. You can't bury it forever."
My chest tightened. "Confront? No. Not yet. Preparation first."
"I want more intel," I said, my voice slicing through the tension. "Every detail of the last seven years. Her allies, her enemies, what she's building. If she poses a threat..."
"And if she does?" Cassian prompted.
"Then I'll deal with it." My tone left no doubt. "But first, I need to know who she is now."
Cassian nodded slowly, but his gaze lingered on me with something close to pity.
When the office emptied, I opened the folder again. Her name stared back at me like a wound reopened. Jasmine.
The past I thought I'd buried was no longer buried. It was alive. Breathing. Standing across ballrooms and terraces.
And if I wasn't careful, it would unravel me.
Because Jasmine wasn't just back in my world.
She was the one person who could destroy it if appropriate measures aren't taken.