The morning sun filtered through the tall arched windows of Vels Mansion, spilling golden light over the long mahogany dining table. The table was set immaculately, gleaming silver cutlery and delicate porcelain bowls aligned as if expecting royalty. Yet, one chair—always the same one—remained empty.
Amelia Vels, regal even in her soft lavender house robe, lifted her teacup with steady hands, though her eyes flickered toward that empty chair. A faint sigh left her lips. "Again," she murmured, the sound too delicate to be anger but heavy with disappointment.
Mr. Vels, the patriarch, folded his newspaper and set it down firmly. His voice carried the authority of a man used to being obeyed. "Your brother," he began, eyes shifting to his elder son seated opposite him, "does not set foot in this house anymore. Always at that company, always with papers and contracts. Since when did he forget this family exists?"
At his side sat Scarlett Vels, Andrew's younger sister, a woman with a fiery gaze and the kind of mischievous smile that could unnerve anyone. She twirled her spoon lazily in her coffee before smirking. "Since his heart broke, father. Don't you remember? After she left him, Andrew buried himself in his empire. Work became his mistress. And let's be honest—he's more loyal to Vels Corporation than he'll ever be to any woman."
"Scarlett," Amelia warned, her voice stern, though her eyes betrayed quiet agreement. "That's enough."
Across the table, Ethan Vels, Andrew's elder brother, cleared his throat awkwardly. Unlike Andrew, Ethan had chosen stability over power. He wore a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up, his tie loose after chasing his toddler around all morning. "Father's right though. It's been months since Andrew last sat with us. Penilla has tried to invite him countless times, but he ignores them all."
At the mention of her name, Penilla, Ethan's wife, shifted in her seat, a graceful woman with gentle eyes that could soften even the harshest words. She cradled their little boy on her lap, who was more interested in playing with his spoon than breakfast.
"I did," Penilla admitted softly. "I told him little Daniel misses his uncle. But… he didn't come. He just said he was busy." She looked toward Amelia, sympathy in her gaze. "He's hurting, Amelia. Maybe… pushing him won't work. Maybe what Andrew needs is… someone who can reach him."
Amelia set down her teacup with quiet authority. "He is my son, Penilla. I know his stubbornness. He thinks burying himself in contracts and meetings will heal wounds. But no amount of money can warm an empty bed. He needs a wife. He needs a family of his own."
Scarlett let out a low laugh, shaking her head. "Good luck telling Andrew that. The man who swore off love? You'll have better luck convincing the devil to take a holiday."
Mr. Vels narrowed his eyes at her sarcasm. "Enough. Andrew is my son, and he will return to this family one way or another. If he won't come willingly, life itself will push him toward where he belongs." His words, though firm, carried a strange undercurrent of prophecy.
For a moment, silence settled over the grand dining hall. The clinking of Daniel's spoon against Penilla's ring was the only sound.
And far away, life was already weaving its threads.
......
Vels Corporation towered like a monument of glass and steel, its polished walls reflecting the morning sun with an authority that mirrored the man who built it. Inside, the air was alive with quiet efficiency—heels clicking against marble, the soft hum of printers, and hushed conversations that spoke of deadlines and power.
Selina Whyte's heart hammered in her chest as she stepped inside. Her breath caught at the sheer scale of the place. Employees moved about briskly, perfectly dressed in tailored suits and sleek dresses. Confidence radiated off them in waves, the kind of confidence that came with both money and belonging.
Selina, on the other hand, felt like a small bird that had strayed into an aviary of hawks. Her modest blouse and skirt didn't belong here. She had tried her best that morning, smoothing her hair, polishing her shoes, mustering courage. But as she walked past the gleaming glass doors, she couldn't help but feel the sharp weight of eyes judging her.
Still, she straightened her shoulders. She whispered to herself: You can do this, Selina. Just breathe. Just survive.
Her heels clicked against the polished floor as she was guided toward a large office—the very heart of Vels Corporation. She pushed the door open, her palms damp with nerves.
The first thing she saw was not a person's face but a silhouette framed by the vast glass windows overlooking the city. A tall figure, broad-shouldered, his back perfectly straight, one hand tucked neatly into his pocket while the other rested lightly against the edge of the desk.
Selina froze. There was something about the posture—the effortless authority, the way the morning light wrapped around him—that made her breath hitch. She didn't know why, but a strange familiarity tugged at her.
Her gaze lingered on the way he stood, as if the world outside those windows belonged to him. Power didn't just surround him; it emanated from him, silent yet unshakable.
Then, as though sensing her presence, the man turned.
Selina's heart nearly stopped.
Andrew.
Her mind reeled as her eyes met his. The same piercing gaze from the café. The same face she had clashed with, the man who had burned into her memory. Except now… now he wasn't just Andrew Vale. He was this. The man at the very center of the empire everyone whispered about.
Her throat went dry. No… it can't be. Andrew… Vels. Vels Corporation… The realization struck her like lightning, but it was too late to run. Too late to hide. She was standing in the lion's den.
Andrew's expression flickered. His lips parted, just slightly, as recognition dawned. That spark in his eyes—the same mixture of surprise and something deeper—was unmistakable.
Selina's palms clenched at her sides. If he knows me, I'll deny it. I'll pretend. I can't back away now. I need this. I have to stay.
But her body betrayed her, trembling as his gaze lingered on her like a storm about to break.
For a long, breathless moment, the air between them thickened, alive with unspoken tension. Neither moved, neither spoke, yet both knew: this encounter was no accident.
Andrew finally straightened, his voice cool and measured though his chest tightened with emotions he didn't understand. "Next applicant."
Selina's name echoed across the room. Her knees weakened, but she forced herself forward. Step by step, into the unknown. Into his world.
And as she stood before him, Andrew Vels' sharp eyes studied her—not just the résumé in her trembling hands, but her. Every nerve in her body screamed under his gaze.
The war between them had just entered a new battlefield.