Chapter Four: Star

Three years later:

"Look who came back!"

I open my arms wide as my mom rushes to embrace me. Her familiar warmth engulfs me, and I hug her tightly, breathing in her comforting scent of lavender and flour. I haven't seen her in three years, and the ache of that time apart melts away as she squeezes me like she never wants to let go.

"I missed you, Mom," I say, my voice thick with emotion. She pulls back just enough to look at me, her tear-streaked face lit with joy.

"I missed you too, sweetheart,” she sniffs, brushing my hair back as though making sure it's really me.

A little tug on my legs pulls my attention down. My toddler, Ethan, is half-hidden behind me, his small fingers gripping my jeans. My mom's gasp of delight fills the air, and she bends to scoop him up before he can scurry away.

"Oh, look at this little angel! You've grown so much, haven't you?”she coos, her eyes glistening anew. Ethan wriggles shyly at first, then giggles as she peppers his cheeks with kisses.

"Well, well...if it isn't the prodigal daughter," my dad's gravelly voice interrupts the moment. He stands in the doorway, his expression guarded.

I pause, debating whether to cross the space to hug him, but the memory of his disappointment when I left makes me hesitate.

“Good to see you, Dad,” I say instead, hoping to keep the peace.

He grunts, shoving us aside and heading out without a word. Not even acknowledging his grandson.

"Don't mind him,” Mom whispers, cradling Ethan in her arms as we step inside.

The familiar scent of vanilla candles and aged wood hits me, instantly transporting me back to my childhood. Nothing about my parents’ home has changed in the last three years, and the comfort of its familiarity wraps around me like a blanket.

"You broke my heart when you up and left like that,” Mom continues as we settle into the kitchen. Her tone is gentle, but the weight of her words lingers. “But seeing you now, I know it was for the best. You look amazing.”

I laugh, a little shyly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "Thanks, Mom.”

She places Ethan in a chair, offering him a cookie from a jar on the counter. "What brought you back?" she asks, her voice careful, as though she doesn't want to push too hard.

"It's okay,”I reassure her. "I got transferred back to London by my company.”

Her face brightens, and she reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. “That's wonderful,” she beams. "Welcome to London, little man!”she says to Ethan, who responds with a delighted laugh.

*

I walk out of the elevator with brisk strides that take me to the reception area in short time. The glass walls and sleek modern furniture scream of sophistication, a stark contrast to the more modest regional office I came from.

The receptionist greets me warmly, "Good morning, Miss Griffin. The boss will join you soon.”

I glance around, taking in the hum of activity. The open-concept workspace sprawls before me, filled with employees hustling between desks and conference rooms. Everything about the headquarters speaks of power and prestige, and a flicker of nervousness churns in my stomach.

A sudden commotion draws my attention. The elevator doors slide open again, and a flurry of assistants rushes out, trailing papers and apologies.

"Silence!”

The booming voice cuts through the chaos, and my breath catches. It's sharp, authoritative—and painfully familiar.

"I can't work with this level of disorganization," the boss snaps. “Where is my head secretary?”

The moment feels surreal, the air thick with tension as everyone freezes. My legs tremble as I force myself to stand. "Right here," I manage, my voice steadier than I feel.

He turns sharply, his eyes landing on me–and the earth tilts.

I never thought I would see those brown eyes again.

"You're...new," he hesitates, giving me a careful once over, "Who are you?"

The reception is death quiet as I gape at him. I know it has been three years but I can't have changed that much.

He certainly didn't.

"You're kidding, right?" I chuckle dryly, earning outraged looks from the others, "There's no way you don't know who I am."

After everything he has done...he should know better than to play pranks on me.

"You look like someone I know, I'll give you that," he says, scowling, "Otherwise, I have no idea who you are and I need you to tell me right now."

I have never been this confused my entire life. If this is one of his sick, twisted jokes, then he needs to know it's not funny.

"Neal?" I stress, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Was lying to me not enough? He used me and betrayed me and now he gets to act like he's never seen me before?

The audacity!

"She was transferred from the regional office back in Dublin," the receptionist scrambles to intervene, "Her name is Star Griffin–your new head secretary."