Chapter 2 He is... Your Boss

Victoria was waiting for me at the elevator bank, her sharp eyes studying my face with barely concealed skepticism.

"Feeling better?" she asked, her tone making it clear she didn't believe me for a second.

"Much better," I lied, forcing a smile that felt like it was cracking my face.

She didn't call me out on it. Instead, she turned and walked toward the CEO's floor, her heels clicking with military precision. I followed, my heart hammering so loudly I was sure she could hear it.

"Before we go in," she said without looking back, "there are a few things you should know."

She pressed the button for the executive floor, and the elevator doors slid shut.

"He has very specific tastes. He's a workaholic. His manner is... serious." She paused, and a flicker of something—annoyance? resignation?—crossed her face. "And he loves his cat. Duchess Isabella III."

I blinked. "Duchess Isabella III?"

Victoria's jaw tightened. "He never asks anyone but me to feed her. He once brought her to my apartment at two in the morning because he had to leave for an emergency business trip. And I," she said, her voice dropping to a tight whisper, "am highly allergic."

I couldn't help it. A laugh escaped me, sharp and surprised. "That's... that's actually kind of sweet? In a completely insane way?"

She gave me a look that could have frozen fire. "It's not sweet, Miss Sharpe. It's a liability. The cat is a menace to my sinuses."

I bit my lip to keep from smiling. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh. Well... it's kinda too much for him to do that to you." I gave her my genuine emphaty.

She sighed, the tension in her shoulders easing just slightly. "You're going to fit in well here. You have... an unusual perspective."

I wasn't sure if that was a compliment or a warning.

The elevator dinged. The doors slid open, and I stepped out onto the executive floor. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the walls, offering a sweeping view of Aethelburg's glittering skyline. The furniture was sleek and modern—expensive, but not ostentatious. It was the kind of space designed to intimidate.

And at the end of the hallway, behind a wall of glass, sat the CEO's office.

My heart lurched.

"Just remember," Victoria said, her voice low. "He's not the type to tolerate mistakes. He demands perfection. He works late. He doesn't take excuses. If you can survive working for him for three months, you can survive anything."

"Great," I muttered. "That's not terrifying at all."

She shot me a look that was almost amused. "Welcome to the Aethelgard Corporation, Miss Sharpe."

She knocked on the heavy oak door.

"Come in." His voice was deep, serious, and sent a shiver down my spine.

Victoria pushed the door open and stepped aside, gesturing for me to enter.

I stepped into the office, and my breath caught in my throat.

He was there, seated behind a massive wooden desk, looking down at a document with his brow furrowed. The same face. The same sharp jawline. The same dark hair. The same hands—those hands I'd imagined holding mine a thousand times.

But the warmth was gone.

He didn't smile. He didn't even look up. He just kept reading, his expression cold and blank.

Is he pretending not to know me?

The thought stabbed through me like a knife. He remembered. He had to remember. The graduation. The flowers. My confession. There was no way he'd forgotten all of that.

And yet he sat there, treating me like a stranger.

I forced myself to breathe. To keep my hands from trembling. To hold onto the tiny shred of dignity I had left.

"Good morning, sir," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "I'm Evelyn Sharpe. Your new assistant secretary."

He finally looked up. His eyes met mine, and my heart stopped.

There was nothing in them.

No recognition. No surprise. No flicker of memory. Just the cool, assessing gaze of a CEO evaluating a new employee. He looked at me the way he'd look at any other hire—dispassionately, analytically, as if I were just another file on his desk.

"Evelyn Sharpe," he repeated, glancing at a resume on his screen. He didn't say my name like it meant anything. "You went to the University of Aethelburg. Economics and Business."

Was that not a big enough hint? We graduated the same year, from the same university. Surely that would make him remember something, even if I was just a fuzzy face from the past.

"Yes, sir."

"And what made you decide to apply to Aethelgard?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but no words came.

He doesn't remember me.

The realization hit me like a physical blow. He had no idea who I was. Ten years of longing, ten years of carrying his memory, and I was just a stranger to him.

"I... I always wanted to work for a company that values innovation and integrity," I managed, the words coming out robotic and hollow. "Aethelgard has been a leader in both."

He gave a short nod. "Good. You'll be reporting to Victoria. She'll assign your daily tasks. You're expected to be punctual, efficient, and discreet. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"I don't understand Victoria's complaints," he said, his tone dismissive. "Working late is natural. You get paid well enough. What's there to complain about?"

I paused for a while, the way he said it make me felt like he was being cold, arrogant, and dismissive. And it did not sound like the kind hearted Liam at all. Why did he change too much?

"Because... we are a human being who could be worn out and need to rest regularly?" I gave my reason to him about Victoria's complaint. His eyes focus on mine for a longer time, before returning to the document.

“I see…” he said, putting the resume down.

He just said that. After all of that, he just said ‘I see’? His act was starting to wear on my last nerve.

"Then you may go."

"Then you may go." That was it. That was all I was worth to him. A brief interview, a corporate dismissal, and a cold, empty farewell.

And I’d had enough.

“Hei—” The informal, almost rude word slipped out before I could stop it.

His head shot up, his eyes widening a little. He fixed that intense, blank stare on me. I was too angry to care.

“Is it really necessary for you to pretend you don’t know who I am?” The words burst out of me, all professional act gone.

He just stared, looking truly confused.

“Hei—?” he repeated, his confusion only making me angrier.

“Hei!” I said, my voice rising. “I can’t pretend I don’t know you just because you shamelessly rejected me!” I let out all my anger.

“Rejected? By me?” Now he looked completely bewildered, which was the last straw.

“That’s right! You! You stupid jerk! It’s really stupid of me; why should I keep loving someone like you after you rejected me for ten years? Why should my heart feel broken again when you can forget me so easily? When I treasure every memory of you!” I was fully angry now, all the pain and shame of the last ten years pouring out.

He actually found it funny. A slight, annoying smirk touched his lips.

“You love me?”

I gasped, realizing what I’d just said. Seeing my stupidity once again.

“No! Absolutely not! Never!” I yelled, as if being loud could hide that I’d just shouted my biggest secret.

“But I heard you clearly. Listen… I’m not sure how we met or how I rejected you. But I don’t remember you.” His tone was calm, logical—the tone of a man who had never been anything but in control. And that control made my blood boil. He was making my hurt worse. It was like adding fuel to my fire

“Liam Thorne, you idiot! I really want to chew you up and crush you!” I shouted.

My words shut him up immediately. He froze, and I could almost see him thinking hard. He was trying to understand what was happening. And then, he did something totally unexpected. He smirked at me again, making me frown.

“Liam Thorne? Have you mistaken me for my brother?” His question made my mind go blank.

What was he saying? Liam has a brother? My mind raced through the memories. He did! He’d talked about an older brother once or twice, but I’d never met him. He never said he had a twin!

“He never said he had a twin!” I argued, trying to hold onto something real.

“We are not identical twins… He's five years younger…” he explained, as if that made it all clear.

For a few seconds, there was only silence. I stared at him, really looking at him now. Compared to Liam, he had a totally different feeling. He was serious and cold, while Liam was cheerful and warm. They looked different too; he was more sharply good-looking and commanding, while Liam was more boyishly cute. 

The eyes were wrong. Liam's eyes always held warmth, even when he was being serious. These eyes were like chips of ice. And the jaw was sharper, the posture more rigid. This man carried himself like a soldier, not the easygoing artist I remembered.

I laughed a dry laugh, realizing the huge, terrible scale of my mistake.

“Hehe…. So... who are you?” I finally asked, my voice small.

“Aethelgard Corporation CEO, Julian Thorne…” he introduced himself with his unique deep voice that can drowned people in.

My eyes jumped to the nameplate on his desk. “Julian Thorne - CEO.” Why hadn’t I seen it sooner?

“That’s right…. Haha...Hello…. It’s nice to meet you,” I tried to smile. It was a weak, fake thing. I wanted to cry from pure shame.

He tilted his head, unable to make sense of these strange events.

“I’m not sure I feel the same,” he said, and that annoying almost-smile came back.

What a terrible first impression I had made.