Chapter 2 Five Years of Missing You

The city lights blurred as I stared at my reflection in the office window, Ashley's champagne glass still sitting where she'd left it. Funny how quickly celebration could turn to ashes.

The office that suddenly felt like another one of his traps. The memory hit hard and fast - standing in Bernard's office that night, twenty-four and stupid enough to think I was special. His perfect protégé. His equal. His lover.

Then I'd found the recordings.

My stomach turned, just like it had that night. Every private moment we'd shared, every "spontaneous" encounter, every intimate conversation - all of it meticulously documented. Analyzed. My reactions catalogued like I was some lab rat in his corporate experiment. Not his partner at all - just another puppet dancing on his strings.

"Never again," I'd sworn that night, walking away from everything. From Bernard Jones - the most dangerous man I'd ever met, the one who'd taught me everything about power and nothing about love. From the privilege of being his chosen successor. From the addictive rush of playing his corporate war games.

I'd built Helios from scratch, fought my way up without his help. Each victory felt like spitting in his face. Each breakthrough proved I wasn't just his carefully crafted doll. I was my own person, my own power.

Or at least that's what I'd let myself believe.

The brown envelope on my desk felt like a ticking bomb. My fingers traced over the special delivery label - the kind Bernard used to send his "gifts". Usually proof that another competitor was about to fall.

"Fuck." I yanked open the drawer where I'd stashed Ashley's USB drive. "That lying bitch."

The screen lit up with proof I couldn't deny. Every test result faked. Every breakthrough fabricated. And there at the bottom of each file - Ashley's digital signature, right next to Nathan's.

My stomach lurched. Ashley Michel. My roommate from Stanford who'd cried with me over failed projects and celebrated our first success at 3 AM with cheap wine. Who'd stood beside me when I left Bernard, who'd helped me build Helios from nothing. The woman I'd trusted enough to make head of research, who knew every secret I had.

Except she wasn't just my best friend anymore. Each faked report, each manipulated result carried her mark. The same careful, detailed approach that had made her brilliant at her job, now turned against me. The charity event last month played back in vivid detail - her tears as she hugged me, thanking me for everything. For believing in her. For treating her like family.

What a performance. Had she been laughing inside, knowing she was about to destroy everything we'd built? I clicked through more files, my hands shaking with rage. All those late nights we'd spent in the lab, every celebration of our progress - how long had it all been a lie?

"Dr. Miller?" My assistant's voice crackled through the speaker. "Mr. Thompson is here about the company reports."

I clicked through more fabricated data, my stomach turning. "Send him in."

Mike Thompson walked in - my lead director, the one candidate Bernard had passed over at Phoenix years ago. His usual diplomatic smile was completely gone.

I turned my laptop around. "Look at this. Really look. Tell me I'm not seeing what I think I'm seeing."

He leaned forward, squinting at the screen. His sharp inhale said it all.

"These numbers..." His finger traced over a particularly damning graph. "Diana, if the SEC sees this-"

"We're fucked. I know." I pulled up another file. "And look who signed off on all of it."

"Ashley?" Mike's voice cracked. "Your head of research? The one who's been with you since-"

"Since Stanford." The betrayal burned like acid in my throat. "Her and Nathan - my best friend and my fiancé - working together the whole time."

Last week's memory hit hard: Ashley Michel, my brilliant research partner turned head scientist, the one I'd brought with me from grad school. And Nathan Cole, my best friend and my fiancé to help build Helios. Now his coffee cup wore her lipstick and his office smelled of her perfume.

I'd trusted them both. Idiotic, looking back. Bernard would be laughing at how soft I'd gotten, letting sentiment cloud my judgment. He'd always said personal loyalty was a weakness in this business. Just one more way he'd been right, damn him.

"These aren't just fabricated research results." I switched screens again. "The whole company's financial structure has been compromised."

A line of black cars pulling up to the building caught my eye. The first one stood out - heavily armored, special plates. My heart stopped. Those weren't just any cars. They belonged to Phoenix Capital. To Bernard Jones.

"Mike," my voice was steady despite my racing pulse, "we'll finish this later."

He opened his mouth to protest, then saw my expression and thought better of it. After he left, I moved to the window, watching those cars pull into reserved spots - the same spots Bernard used to park in when this was his building. Five years. I'd spent five years building my own company, proving I could succeed without his influence. Each victory I'd claimed had been a step away from his world. Now here he was, showing up the night everything fell apart.

The timing wasn't accident. With Bernard, it never was. The truth slammed into me like a physical blow - his company's involvement in mine had always been carefully hidden. Bernard liked using complicated business structures and quiet partnerships to keep control while looking like just another investor. Looking back, I should have known better. Bernard didn't believe in coincidences, and he definitely didn't make passive investments.

The elevator dinged. Too late to run. Footsteps approached - that same confident walk that used to silence rooms and make my heart race. His familiar scent hit first - subtle and expensive, bringing back memories of heated arguments in his private elevator, fights that ended with broken glasses and tangled sheets, quiet mornings when I'd almost believed we could work together.

"Diana." His voice still affected me like strong whiskey. "Miss me?"

I turned, keeping my face professional. Bernard looked exactly the same - his presence that commanded attention. His eyes held that intensity that used to make me feel like the only person in his world. The same look that had convinced me, fresh from graduating, that he saw me as an equal rather than a target.

"Bernard." I matched his tone. Professional. Cold. Like my body wasn't remembering every time he'd whispered my name. "Didn't know your company was interested in mine."

His smile turned dangerous. "I'm interested in many things, Dr. Miller." The way he said my title sounded intimate. "Especially when they involve breakthroughs that change what we thought possible."

Then it hit me - this wasn't coincidence. Bernard hadn't just appeared. He'd been waiting, watching, knowing exactly when to step in. Five years thinking I'd escaped his web, only to find I'd been caught in it all along. The realization was crystal clear: I'd never really been free. Every move I'd made had been part of his long game.

"We should talk privately." Bernard's tone made it an order, not a suggestion. "Unless you'd prefer to continue this conversation with the government investigators arriving tomorrow morning?"

My focus was on Bernard as he moved closer. Close enough to see the faint scar above his eyebrow - the one from that night at the opera, when he'd hurt someone for getting too aggressive with me.

"Still trying to prove you don't need me?" His voice dropped lower, more intimate. "How's that working out?"

I met his gaze. "I built this company without you."

"Did you?" He raised an eyebrow. "Check your investors. The company structures. The hidden connections." His smile widened. "You really think you got this far without my help?"

I moved toward my computer, but his hand caught my wrist. The touch sent electricity through me. "This isn't about us."

"Everything's about us." His fingers traced my spine, finding that spot that always made me react. "Five years, and your body still responds to my touch like it was made for it. Like every decision, every move, every supposed escape was just part of the game."

I stepped back, but the damage was done. My body remembered every touch, every night, every morning promise I'd tried to forget. The city lights blurred behind him as he leaned close, his breath warm against my ear.

"The board meets at eight. Investigators arrive at nine." His lips brushed my temple. "Time to come home, Diana."

"Is that a threat?"

He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, and for a moment, I saw something different there - not just the usual power play, but something almost... protective? But it disappeared before I could understand it, replaced by his typical dangerous smile.

"That's just how the game is played. And sweetheart?" His smile held no warmth. "You're not the only one who's gotten better at playing."

His words lingered as I turned back to my desk, where Ashley's betrayal waited in glowing pixels. One crisis at a time. Starting with the friend who'd stabbed me in the back.