Chapter Text
As usual, he dreamed of her.
Emerald eyes glowing in the dark, alive with wonder as she watched fireflies.
Coral strands of hair falling across her face as he brushed them aside, lips grazing her collarbone.
The taste of her kiss—the way she felt around him, the way he felt alive and free for the first time in his life.
Her warmth, her scent, the sweet sound of her voice whispering his name like a prayer.
Arnold’s chest tightened. He reached for her—as always—and, as always, she slipped through his grasp, dissolving into mist.
The alarm rang at 5:00 a.m. sharp, tearing her from him.
Minutes later, the cold morning air burned in his lungs as his steady strides struck the pavement. Running helped him clear his mind and focus on the day he had ahead.
Back home, he quickly cooked some breakfast and brewed coffee before hitting the cold shower to help him stay sharp. By the time he knotted his tie and picked up his keys, the sky was only just beginning to lighten.
As usual, he was the first to reach the office. Being Galkheim's vice-president was a lot of work, but he kept himself grounded. His father’s illness was only a matter of time before he could be free. The man who had ruled his life through fear and cruelty was not invincible anymore. Sooner or later, the empire would slip from his grasp and Arnold would finally have control over his own life. Maybe he would even be able to find her again.
Arnold had already finished reading the report for the morning meetings and was writing an e-mail when Oliver knocked on his door.
"Good morning, vice-president," His old friend greeted him.
"Oliver," He replied, still focused on his task.
"Your father asked me to bring you to an unscheduled meeting," Oliver said. "I just emailed you the details."
“My schedule is packed. Reschedule it,” Arnold said flatly.
“Your father commanded it,” Oliver explained. “There was no time to let you know in advance—you were the first to arrive.” He sighed, leaning against the doorframe. “Ever heard of work-life balance? Maybe get a girlfriend and stop overworking the staff?”
Arnold didn’t even look up. “What does he want this time?” His tone was dismissive.
“This one’s… different,” Oliver admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “A new partnership. Rapid growth overseas. High profits. Your old man’s got his eye on it.”
Arnold arched a brow, still writing. “And why am I only hearing about it now?”
“Because Zahad is the one bringing in the client,” Oliver said carefully. “He claims the company could become a cornerstone in the domestic market if it gets the right support.”
“What a bother. After everything I’ve done for him… he goes to my father.” His voice cooled to ice. “What company?”
"Amelia. Natural cosmetics and medicine. Ring any bells?" Oliver said, typing on his tablet as he sent Arnold the briefing for the new meeting.
The notification pinged instantly, and Arnold opened it without delay. His eyes skimmed the first lines.
“The founder is Japanese, started the company overseas…” He kept his tone even, almost bored, though something coiled tight in his chest. “Anyone we know?”
Oliver shook his head. “Not directly. Young, but already building a reputation. Your father wants in before it expands further.”
Arnold gave a short, indifferent hum, setting the tablet back down. “Then let’s hear what they have to say.”
Rishe adjusted the little blue bow in Mia’s lavender hair, smoothing it with gentle fingers. The girl squirmed in her chair, giggling through a mouthful of toast.
“Hold still,” Rishe chided softly, though her smile betrayed her. The morning sun poured through the wide windows of the apartment, bathing the kitchen in a warm glow. For a fleeting moment, it almost felt like home.
Then her phone buzzed.
Rishe glanced at the screen. Zahad’s name flashed across it with a short message: "Meeting confirmed. I'll fetch you at 9 a.m."
Her stomach tightened. She had braced herself for negotiations, for the possibility of finally bringing Amelia into her home country’s market. Still, the thought of it left her unsettled.
She closed her eyes and drew in a slow breath. Amelia bore her daughter’s name, her grandmother’s legacy, and years of sacrifice. This was everything she had worked for. She would not falter.
“Mommy?” Mia’s small voice pulled her back. Ocean-blue eyes — so achingly like his — blinked up at her.
Rishe bent down and kissed her forehead. “Be a good girl to Auntie Elsie today, sweetheart. Mommy’s just got an important day at work.”
“Okay, Mommy.” Mia beamed and leaned forward, planting a sticky toast-scented kiss on her mother’s cheek, "Good luck!"