One suitor coming up

The room went silent as she coughed violently, the hot coffee burning her throat as she struggled to swallow and breathe at the same time. A few board members shifted in their seats, some watching with mild concern, others barely hiding their amusement.

“Ms Hope?” Penelope’s voice hesitantly came through the speaker.

She cleared her throat, setting the cup down with a soft thud, and took out a napkin from her bag on the table, she wiped her lips and hand before throwing it into the bin by her right. “Repeat that,” she ordered, despite the heat crawling up her spine.

“I said… the man Madam Georgiana always talks about whenever I come to submit the days report at the mansion. He announced to the press that he’s returning to Mexico and I think he's from there. He doesn't look like a Mexican though.”

Hope inhaled slowly through her nose. “And you’re sure it’s him?”

“Yes, Ma’am. I have his picture staring back at me right now.”

She exhaled. If she was standing, her knees might have buckled slightly, but she kept her posture normal trying to stone her face. She swallowed the burn in her throat, reaching for another napkin to dab the coffee that had splattered near her wrist.

Noah.

She had spent years running this company, proving herself, holding everything together while the world debated whether she was capable. And now, just like that, the person they had been waiting for, the one they believed should be in her place, was returning.

She straightened in her seat, nodded her head slightly as if Penelope could see her. “Noted. Anything else?”

“No, Ma’am. Just thought you’d want to hear it from me first.”

And somehow, Hope appreciated that. The last thing she needed was to hear it from Georgiana. Oh, how the woman would not let her breath because of it.

She hung up and placed the phone down beside her tablet, exhaling quietly before lifting her gaze to the room.

“My apologies,” she said smoothly as if nothing had happened. “Now, where were we?”

Mr Dorne shifted in his seat, watching her carefully. “The Singapore deal.”

Right. The Singapore deal.

Not the fact that Noah was returning.

Not the fact that everything she had fought for might soon be ripped out from under her.

She smiled tightly. “Yes. Let’s continue.”

The meeting continued, but she barely registered a word of it.

Is it the numbers and projections, or the talk about expansions—all of it flew over her head as her mind drifted back to her worries. If her P.A was right—she wished she wasn't— Noah is really coming back.

She tapped her stylus pen against the table, pretending to take notes, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Seven years. Seven years since he left. Seven years since she thought she’d never have to deal with him again. And now, just like that, he was returning—as if the past years hadn’t happened, as if they weren’t enough time for the universe to finally erase him from her life.

He did say he wasn't going to return ever. He promised the night he left that he was going to stay with his mother's sister in New York and might only come back to Mexico for a visit, like a two day visit. And she hoped so badly that this would just be a two day visit.

She can put up with that compared to forever.

She sighed and forced her attention back to the discussion.

“…propose we reassess the timeline for the expansion. Ms Torres, what are your thoughts?”

She blinked, barely catching up. “We stick to the original plan. Pushing it back benefits no one.”

Some of the men exchanged glances, probably noting her distraction, but no one questioned her. She was Hope Torres after all—distraction or not, she ran this company, and she already threatened half of them since the meeting started.

The meeting dragged on for another hour, as the board members wrapped up their discussions and began filing out, she stood up without another word and grabbed her bag walking out.

She stepped into her office, frowning the moment she saw one of the last people she wanted to deal with right now.

"Good morning, Mr. Morales," she greeted flatly. "To what do I owe this sudden visit that my assistant didn’t tell me about?"

She dropped her bag onto the desk and slid into her chair, her eyes flicking to the sealed microwavable container sitting on her desk. She hadn’t had time to eat breakfast at home—thanks to someone. It must be from Daniel.

Ethan shook his head, his hazel settling on her. “Please, just Ethan.” He set a package on her desk and straightened. “I'm on my way to work and thought I’d stop by. I won’t stay long.”

She arched a brow, already knowing where this was going.

“I brought you breakfast,” he added. “I heard about the fight with your mother—stepmother,” he corrected quickly when she shot him a glare. “From my mother. Figured you didn’t have time to eat.”

Shs sighed, reaching for her bag. Ethan Morales. One of her suitors. He was the nicest of them all, which, ironically, was part of the problem. If she hadn’t known him for years, she’d think it was an act. But it wasn’t.

Ethan, the only son and child, had grown up differently—having things handed to him, never truly knowing struggle. And because of that, he didn't seem to understand the concept of taking no for an answer. He had asked her out a year ago, and she had turned him down a year ago, yet somehow, it never stuck. It was as if he wore an earplug around her to drown out every rejection.

She nodded absentmindedly, knowing there was no point arguing. “Thanks for the breakfast,” she muttered. She had long since learned that no matter what she said, he’d still leave his gifts with her.

He nodded and stepped forward rubbing her shoulders before moving back. "Have a lovely day.”

Hope grimaced as he walked out. He's nice already, but he's touch starved.