The morning light streamed through Mia's curtains, soft and pale, but she hadn't really slept. Her body had rested, curled on the couch with a blanket Josh had thrown over her, but her mind had stayed restless—flashing between Liam's eyes in the boardroom and the word Partner stamped into Vale's promise.
Josh was still there, dozing in the armchair across from her, his head tipped back, his phone loose in his hand. She looked at him for a moment, her chest swelling with gratitude. He had stayed without being asked, without complaint—just like always. But this battle wasn't his to fight. It was hers.
Carefully, she slipped out from under the blanket, padded barefoot into her bedroom, and picked up her phone. The folder still lay on her bed, a silent reminder of the deal hanging over her head. She stared at it for a long moment, her heart pounding.
Then she dialed Richard Vale.
He answered almost immediately, his voice brisk. "Mia."
She swallowed hard, forcing the tremor out of her tone. "Sir, about the Alcaraz account."
A pause crackled over the line. She could almost see him in his glass office, leaning back in that leather chair, weighing her words. "Go on."
She tightened her grip on the phone. "I'll take it."
Silence. Then, slowly, Vale exhaled through the receiver. "You're sure?"
Mia's throat ached, but her voice held steady. "Yes. I'll handle it."
For the first time since yesterday, Richard Vale's tone softened, though it carried a gravity that pressed into her chest. "You should know something, Mia. When I offered you partnership, it wasn't charity. You've earned this with your work, your persistence, your results. But this case... this isn't like the others. Liam Alcaraz is not like the others. If you step into this, you'll be staring down a man who devours weakness for breakfast. And he's already shown his hand—he wants you."
Mia's chest constricted, but she forced her chin high even though he couldn't see it. "Then he'll get me. But on my terms, not his."
Vale was silent for a moment, as if weighing her words, testing their steel. Finally, he said, "Very well. I'll inform Alcaraz that you'll lead the negotiations. Expect his office to reach out by tomorrow."
Her pulse thundered in her ears. Tomorrow. It was real now.
"Mia," Vale added, his voice lower, almost warning. "Once you step into this room, there's no turning back. Do you understand?"
Her free hand curled into a fist at her side. "I understand."
The call ended with a decisive click.
Mia stood in the quiet of her room, the phone still warm against her ear, her breath unsteady but her resolve firm. She turned to the folder on the bed, staring at the bold letters of Liam's name stamped across the top.
Her heart twisted, memories clawing at her, but she shoved them down. This wasn't about him anymore. This was about her. Her career. Her future.
This time, she wasn't the girl waiting to be chosen.
This time, she was the woman walking into the fire with her eyes wide open.
And if Liam Alcaraz thought he could break her again, he was about to learn—Mia Villaruiz wasn't playing by his rules anymore.
Liam had been standing at the window of his office all morning, the skyline sprawling before him in sharp lines of steel and glass. The city was alive with movement—cars threading through streets, cranes swinging against the horizon—but none of it reached him.
He was waiting.
Every email that pinged his inbox, every call that lit up his phone, he dismissed without hesitation. There was only one he cared about.
When the private line finally buzzed, he snatched it up before the second ring. "Vale."
On the other end, Richard's voice was smooth, efficient, as always. "You got what you wanted. Villaruiz has agreed to take the account."
For a beat, Liam said nothing. He closed his eyes, his grip on the receiver tightening until the plastic creaked.
She said yes.
The tension in his chest released all at once, replaced by something darker, sharper. Triumph. Relief. Possession.
"Good," he said finally, his voice low. "Send me the schedule for next week. I want her in my office before we move forward with negotiations."
"Of course," Vale replied, with no curiosity beyond logistics. "You'll have the details by end of day."
Liam ended the call with a click, his hand lingering on the receiver. Silence poured back into the room like smoke.
He turned toward the glass, bracing one palm against the cold surface. His reflection stared back—perfectly composed, the image of a man in control. But his eyes betrayed him, burning with something he hadn't felt in years.
Eight years.
Eight years of building an empire, of burying her memory under ruthless ambition. Eight years of convincing himself he had done the right thing by walking away.
And yet... a single woman had walked back into his world and unraveled him in seconds.
He hated it.
He hungered for it.
He turned sharply, pacing the length of his office like a man caged. He wanted her across the table again. He wanted her voice steady and sharp, wanted to watch her eyes flicker when she realized she wasn't the only one who had hardened with time.
But beneath the hunger and the anger lurked something he refused to name. Something dangerous. Because this wasn't business. This was Mia.
And Mia was the only battle he had ever lost.
His jaw clenched as he stopped mid-pace, fists curling at his sides. This time would be different. She thought she could guard her heart, thought she could face him without breaking.
She was wrong.
Liam Alcaraz, who had bent entire industries to his will, vowed one thing with chilling certainty:
This time, he wasn't letting her slip through his hands. Not to fate. Not to pride. Not to anyone.
And if Mia Villaruiz thought she could keep her walls standing, she was about to learn—walls could be broken, scars could be split wide open.
This time, he would win.
The next morning, Anabel walked into Liam's office carrying the day's schedule, and for a moment she thought she had stepped into the wrong room.
Her boss—Liam Alcaraz, the man who usually carried the air of perpetual detachment—was already at his desk, clean-shaven, suit pressed to perfection, every dark strand of his hair meticulously in place. He looked sharper, younger somehow, and there was an energy about him she had never seen before.
For years she had worked by his side, and never once had she seen him like this. Not for board meetings, not for billion-dollar deals, not even for award galas. His usual expression was one of cool calculation, untouchable and cold. But today... his eyes carried a glint that unsettled her.
He was almost—excited.
"Sir?" she asked carefully, setting the folder down on his desk.
Liam glanced up, and even his gaze felt different. Focused. Alive. "She'll be here at ten?"
"Yes, Mr. Alcaraz. Vale's office confirmed it last night."
A slow, controlled exhale left him, but Anabel caught the way his hand tightened around his pen, as though his composure was only skin-deep.
"Good," he said simply. "Send her in the moment she arrives. And cancel the rest of my morning. I don't want to be disturbed."
Anabel nodded, still trying to process this new side of her boss as she left the office. For the first time in years, she wondered—who exactly was Attorney Villaruiz to command this kind of reaction from him?
⸻
At precisely ten, the glass doors to the executive floor opened, and Mia Villaruiz walked in.
Anabel rose from her desk instantly, her eyes narrowing in faint curiosity. The woman was poised, elegant, and intimidating in a way that didn't rely on theatrics. Her dark suit was cut perfectly, her heels clicked with purpose, and her expression was calm—too calm, as though every step forward was a test she intended to ace.
"Attorney Villaruiz," Anabel greeted, gesturing to the double doors. "Mr. Alcaraz is expecting you."
Mia gave a polite nod, her voice cool and professional. "Thank you."
She didn't hesitate. Didn't falter. She pushed the doors open and stepped into Liam's world.
Inside, Liam was already standing. He never stood for anyone. But the moment Mia crossed the threshold, he rose from behind his desk as if pulled by an invisible force.
For a second, the room felt charged, heavy with silence. His gaze locked on hers, dark and unreadable, and hers met his with a steel that made his jaw tighten.
"Atty. Villaruiz," he said finally, his voice steady but deeper than usual, carrying an edge only she would hear.
"Mr. Alcaraz." Her tone was polite, crisp. Her chin lifted just slightly higher, her eyes refusing to waver.
She crossed the room and placed her folder on the polished surface of his desk. "Shall we begin?"
Liam's lips curved—just faintly, not quite a smile but something dangerously close. He gestured to the chair across from him. "By all means."
As she sat, the scent of her perfume drifted across the space between them, subtle but sharp enough to stir something buried deep in his chest. He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers, watching her with the quiet intensity of a man who had already decided the outcome of a game only he knew they were playing.
Mia opened her folder, her voice cool and controlled as she launched straight into the case. "I've reviewed the contracts your company submitted. There are adjustments we'll need to make before negotiations can proceed—"
But Liam wasn't listening. Not entirely. He watched her lips move, heard the steel in her tone, the confidence she wielded like a weapon. She was sharper than the girl he remembered. Stronger.
And yet, beneath it all, he caught it—the flicker in her eyes when she glanced up at him, the one she tried to bury beneath layers of professionalism. The echo of their past.
He almost smiled.
This was exactly where he wanted her.
Mia sat across from him, spine straight, folder open, her pen poised like a blade. Her voice was cool, precise, threaded with that new steel Liam couldn't look away from.
"I've reviewed the preliminary contracts your legal team drafted," she began, flipping a page without hesitation. "There are clauses that won't hold in arbitration. If you want this airtight, certain provisions need to be renegotiated."
Liam leaned back in his chair, arms folding across his chest. He should have been listening to the words, the legal angles she laid out with careful authority. But instead, his focus slid to the curve of her mouth as she spoke, the flicker of defiance in her eyes when she glanced up at him.
"You've changed," he said suddenly, his voice smooth, low.
Her pen stilled mid-note. Slowly, her eyes lifted to his, cool and sharp. "I'm here as your counsel, Mr. Alcaraz. Not for character analysis."
Liam's lips curved faintly, almost taunting. "Still direct."
Her gaze didn't waver. "Still not interested in small talk."
The tension snapped tighter between them, sharp as glass.
He leaned forward now, forearms braced on the desk, closing some of the space between them. "You don't intimidate easily."
"I don't intimidate at all," she corrected crisply, her pen resuming its glide across the page. "Now, if we could return to the contracts—"
Liam let her words settle before tilting his head, studying her with that unnerving intensity. He should have pulled back, but he couldn't. "Tell me, Mia..." The sound of her name on his lips sent a flicker through her composure—small, but he saw it. "Do you regret saying yes?"
Her pen stopped again. This time, she set it down deliberately, meeting his gaze head-on. "I don't regret accepting a challenge, Mr. Alcaraz. What I would regret," her voice sharpened, "is confusing this table for anything other than business."
For the first time in years, Liam felt his composure strain. She was fire where he expected ice, defiance where he wanted hesitation. And it both enraged him and made him want her more.
He leaned back slowly, his jaw tightening as if reining himself in. "Then let's keep this strictly business. Over lunch."
The words hung between them like bait.
Mia blinked once, then gathered her papers into a neat pile, her movements deliberate. "I don't have lunch with bosses or clients."
His brows furrowed, the faintest edge slipping into his voice. "And why is that?"
She rose to her feet, her chin lifting, her eyes never leaving his. "Because I only dine with real friends."
The silence after was deafening.
Liam's fists curled beneath the desk, hidden from her view, the muscles in his jaw taut with the effort of restraint. He wanted to demand more, wanted to break past that wall of hers the way he always had before. But instead, he forced his voice into something calm, clipped.
"Very well. We'll keep it professional."
She slipped the folder into her bag, her posture impeccable, her expression unreadable. "Good. I'll send the revisions to your team this afternoon."
And with that, she turned, her heels clicking against the polished floor, each step measured, deliberate, leaving the weight of her words behind like a scar across his pride.
Liam sat there, fists tight, pulse hammering, his eyes tracking her until the doors shut behind her.
She thought she could define the rules. She thought she could reduce him to a client, just another signature on her path to success.
But Liam Alcaraz knew one truth as he unclenched his fists and let out a slow, jagged breath.
He had never wanted anyone more.
And he had no intention of staying just her client.