New York in late autumn always looked expensive.
The air had that crisp, polished edge that made people walk faster and talk softer, as if the city itself had rules about volume. I watched the Pierce Holdings tower rise out of the street like a monument—glass, steel, and legacy.
Two years ago, I used to imagine this building as our future.
Now it felt like a stranger's.
My family driver pulled into the drop-off lane, and the doorman stepped forward before the car even stopped. He recognized the Greene name, of course. In my world, last names worked like keys.
"Ms. Greene," he said, opening the door. "Welcome back."
"Thank you," I replied, and the words tasted oddly formal.
Inside, everything gleamed—marble floors, minimalist floral arrangements, employees dressed in tailored neutrals that made them look like they belonged in a catalog titled Success. The lobby screens looped footage from Pierce Holdings' latest philanthropic gala, complete with Adrian's face in a dark suit and the kind of smile he reserved for cameras.
I hadn't told Adrian I was coming here.
I told myself I wanted to surprise him.
That was another lie.
He hadn't come to the airport.
I waited exactly ten minutes before deciding not to wait at all.
Instead, I told the driver to bring me here.
If he was too busy to meet me, I wanted to see what, exactly, was occupying his time.
My family and the Pierces had known each other for generations. I'd grown up wandering these halls—back when this building still smelled faintly of ambition rather than inevitability.
Security waved me through without question.
No call ahead.No warning.
I reached Adrian's office the way I always had.
The door was half open.
When I stepped inside, I saw them.
Adrian and Lily Wright were standing close together, sharing a small plate between them. On it sat a cake that looked… uneven. Homemade. The kind of thing no professional bakery would put on display.
"I spent the entire day baking this," Lily said, half laughing, half pleading."Just eat a little more, please."
She lifted the spoon toward Adrian's mouth.
He hesitated, then leaned in and swallowed the bite.
"Alright, alright," he said, sighing as if defeated. "It's really good."
His eyes were soft. Indulgent.
"And if you keep stalling," he added lightly, "you'll be late for your piano lesson tonight."
Something inside me sank.
Because I remembered—very clearly—
Adrian Pierce never ate sweets.
He used to say they made him feel unfocused. Out of control.
I stayed where I was, my expression unchanged.
From the doorway, I spoke with a faint smile.
"I leave for two years," I said,"and you're already so broke you have to split a single cake with someone else?"
I paused deliberately.
"Whatever happened to meeting at the top?"
Adrian looked up sharply.
For a moment, his face went completely blank.
Then surprise.Then unmistakable relief.
"Claire?" He stood at once. "You're back?"
I lifted a brow. "Didn't you get my text this morning?"
He froze.
Then it came back to him.
"My phone," he said. "I left my personal phone at a restaurant earlier. I was just about to send my assistant to pick it up."
Before I could reply, Lily spoke.
"I told him not to rush to pick me up," she said lightly."I'm not a child. It was pouring, but I could've taken a cab."
She turned to me, apologetic and familiar all at once.
"Claire—sorry, Claire—this is on me. I should've reminded him about his phone."
She smiled, warm and effortless.
"You know how he is," she added."When he gets anxious, he forgets everything."
Adrian sighed, the sound more fond than frustrated.
"And whose fault is that?" he said."Someone forgets her bag one minute, her sheet music the next."
Lily laughed.
I watched them.
The rhythm.The ease.The way she spoke as if she'd always been here.
I stepped fully into the room.
"So," I said calmly, "this is what you've been busy with."
Adrian took a step toward me. "Claire, it's not what you think."
Lily's gaze flicked briefly to my hands.
Then back to my face.
"I've heard so much about you," she said sincerely."He talks about you all the time."
There was no malice in her tone.
That was what made it worse.