The night air was crisp, cool, and still.
Zeke stood on the terrace outside the guest room, hands in the pockets of his trousers, eyes fixed on the distant hills that framed the countryside estate. The moon hung low, casting silver light across the quiet garden Elise loved so much.
He let out a long breath.
Should I really meet someone new? Just for grandma? He wondered silently. His grandmother's hopeful smile replayed in his mind—the way her voice softened when she spoke of great-grandchildren, of the future she longed to see for him.
But his heart… it wasn't ready.
Not yet. Maybe not ever.
He pressed his lips into a line and stared down at the stone railing. The thought of starting a relationship just to fulfill someone else's wish felt… wrong. Hollow. He had done that once—married Cassidy under the weight of duty and expectations. And it had left a scar too deep to ignore.
He had learned something back then: love couldn't be forced. And affection, born from guilt or obligation, was a slow poison—for both hearts involved.
Zeke sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair, the night breeze brushing his skin.
"I'm sorry, Grandma," he murmured to the dark sky. "Maybe I won't get married again."
His voice was barely audible, laced with quiet regret.
"Maybe I can't give you that dream."
He stood there in silence, a tall, lone figure under the stars—still haunted by a love that never had the chance to grow properly… and unsure if he'd ever be free of it.
***
Monday Morning – Zeke's Office.
Zeke sat behind his desk, sleeves rolled up, a fresh cup of coffee untouched beside a glowing tablet screen. The floor-to-ceiling windows flooded the office with morning light, casting long shadows across the sleek interior.
"Andrew," he said as his assistant stepped in, "what's my schedule this week?"
Andrew, holding his usual tablet, scrolled briefly before speaking. "You have a full plate, sir. Tomorrow—Tuesday—you're flying to Dubai for the signing ceremony with Mr. Tyler. That'll take up most of Tuesday and Wednesday."
Zeke nodded, already feeling the weight settle on his shoulders.
"Then Thursday, you're scheduled to fly to the UK to personally inspect the new pharmaceutical production site. It's for the first batch of the C-37 medication."
Zeke's brow furrowed slightly. "And Friday?"
"Friday morning, internal meetings with our department heads and a few senior managers to review the development of the bio-research project and greenlight the expansion budget."
Zeke leaned back, rubbing his temple. "Thursday's not going to work."
Andrew paused, then glanced up from the tablet.
"It's Arielle's birthday," Zeke said flatly, as if reminding himself. "Nicole invited me. They want me there."
Andrew gave a slight nod of understanding. "Do you want me to shift Thursday's schedule?"
"I'll handle the inspection in the morning," Zeke decided. "Make sure the jet is ready for takeoff by noon. I'll head straight back to New York afterward."
Andrew typed quickly on his device. "Understood."
Zeke looked up again. "And the gift? Did you contact Cy. Noire and order the clothes she picked out?"
"Yes, sir. The items are in transit from Switzerland. They should arrive later tonight."
"When they do," Zeke said, voice firm, "bring them to the villa. Personally."
Andrew nodded. "I'll see to it."
Zeke gave a small wave, dismissing him. "That'll be all."
"Very well, sir," Andrew said before stepping out, soft click of the door closing behind him.
Zeke turned back to his tablet, but his eyes remained unfocused—already picturing Arielle's bright eyes, Nicole's warm smile.
***
The late afternoon sun filtered through the towering glass façade of Salvador Corporation, casting golden beams across the sleek marble floors of the lobby. Shadows stretched long, and the rhythm of the day had begun to slow. Some employees lingered by the elevators, winding down from meetings, while others typed lazily on their phones, waiting for the clock to strike five.
The soft click of heels broke the ambient lull as a tall, elegant woman stepped inside. She moved with the quiet confidence of someone used to being noticed. Dressed in a tailored ivory suit that clung perfectly to her statuesque frame, she exuded both power and grace. Her black sunglasses covered half her face, but even with them on, she drew eyes instantly.
She walked up to the reception desk, her voice smooth and self-assured. "I'm here to see Ezekiel Salvador."
The young female receptionist straightened in her seat. "Do you have an appointment?"
The woman removed her sunglasses and pushed them up over her head, revealing striking eyes and classic, high-cheekboned beauty.
"No. Just tell him Gianna wants to see him."
The receptionist paused, caught between instinct and protocol. She glanced at the woman's outfit—this season's couture from an elite fashion house. Definitely not someone to turn away without care.
"One moment," she said professionally, reaching for the phone.
She dialed Andrew. "Mr. Andrew? There's a Miss Gianna here. She says she wants to see Mr. Salvador."
A brief silence. Then Andrew's voice came sharp and clear. "Gianna Hill?"
The receptionist blinked. She covered the receiver with one hand and looked up. "Miss, is your full name Gianna Hill?"
Gianna gave a cool nod, a smile playing on her lips. "Yes."
"Yes, she confirmed," the receptionist said.
Andrew's tone immediately shifted. "Wait there. I'll inform Mr. Salvador and come down myself."
Moments later, Gianna was seated in the waiting area with legs crossed, scrolling her phone casually. When Andrew arrived, he greeted her with polite professionalism.
"Miss Hill, Mr. Salvador is expecting you now. Please, this way."
Gianna stood, fluid as a wave, and followed him silently toward the private elevator—the one reserved solely for Ezekiel Salvador and his highest-priority guests.
As soon as they disappeared, the male receptionist leaned toward his colleague, whispering with wide eyes, "Was that the Gianna Hill? Heiress to Hill Enterprises? The youngest billionaire to make Forbes 30 Under 30 at eighteen?"
The female receptionist hesitated, shook her head slowly, then said, "I don't know… but it's very possible."
She gestured toward the now-empty space where Andrew had escorted Gianna moments ago.
"I mean, Andrew came down himself. And he took her up using Mr. Salvador's private lift. That never happens unless it's someone important."
They both sat back in awe for a moment, digesting the implication.
"She's insanely beautiful," the male receptionist murmured.
"And rich," the woman added. "Like… Forbes 30 Under 30 rich."
"You think she and Mr. Salvador…?"
"Who knows," the woman whispered, eyes glinting. "But if she is, I wouldn't be surprised. They'd make one hell of a power couple."
They exchanged a knowing glance—and just like that, the gossip began.
***
When the door to his office opened, Zeke glanced up from his desk. His expression softened slightly as the tall, familiar figure walked in with confident steps. With a small, guarded smile, he stood to greet her.
"Gianna."
Gianna returned the smile with a faint smirk. "Oh, now that smile shows up," she said lightly, though there was a hint of reproach in her tone. "I called. I texted. And you didn't even bother to respond. So I figured... maybe a surprise visit would work better."
Zeke offered an apologetic smile and picked up the phone on his desk. After a few taps and a moment of silence, he gave a small nod.
"Sorry. I had it on Do Not Disturb all morning. I didn't realize it was still on. I wasn't ignoring you, Gianna."
Gianna raised a brow. "You sure? Not even a little bit?"
Zeke lifted a hand slightly in surrender. "Maybe a little," he admitted. "But not on purpose."
Gianna gave a short laugh and seated herself in one of the guest chairs. "Fair enough."
Zeke sat back down and gave her a curious look. "So... what brings you here? Just to scold me in person?"
Gianna smiled. "No. I came with a proposal."
"Of course you did."
"I'm organizing a charity event next Saturday," she said, leaning back. "It's a black-tie gala with a high-profile auction. The proceeds will go to several charities and pediatric hospitals."
Zeke listened attentively. Gianna was always full of surprises, but always with purpose.
"And you want my company to sponsor it?"
"I want you and your company involved," Gianna said firmly. "You have the resources, the reach, and let's be honest—when Ezekiel Salvador shows up, people notice. That's the kind of attention this cause needs."
Zeke nodded slowly, considering. "When is it?"
"Next Saturday."
He was quiet for a few moments, then said, "Alright. I'm in."
Gianna blinked, slightly surprised. "That easy?"
"I don't say yes to many things, Gianna," he said with calm sincerity. "But this feels like something worth doing."
Gianna smiled. "You've changed."
"Have I?"
"Yeah. The Zeke I used to know in our mid-twenties wouldn't have agreed so quickly."
Zeke looked at her for a moment. "Back then, I thought women like you were the perfect match for me."
Gianna raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh?"
"Beautiful. Independent. Assertive. Hardworking. You knew what you wanted and how to lead. Everyone used to say we'd make a power couple."
Gianna gave a faint, wistful smile. "And yet..."
Zeke continued, "You turned down every match, every suggestion to pair us together. I've always wondered—who was the guy who managed to steal your heart?"
Gianna looked down slightly, her expression unreadable. "Not every heart that gets stolen ends up staying with the thief," she said softly. "And some women… just aren't ready to settle. Even when everyone around them wants them to."
Zeke studied her face, still as elegant and unreadable as it had always been. A woman who knew her worth—and wouldn't hand it over easily, not even for love.
"He must've meant a lot to you," he murmured, almost to himself.
Gianna gave a small smile. "He did. Maybe he still does."
***