The seasons changed outside the glass walls of Vance Global, but inside, the air remained a constant, filtered chill. Two years had passed since the high-speed crash on the mountain road—two years of press releases, soaring stock prices, and a silence so thick it felt like a physical weight.
Leo Vance sat in his high-back leather chair on the 60th floor. He looked exactly
as he had before the accident: impeccably tailored, his hair swept back, his gaze sharp and calculating. He was the "Ice King" once more, a man of logic and spreadsheets. He had successfully overseen the Logistics merger, and his father, Arthur, sat in the office next door, a smug shadow of a man who had finally gotten the son he always wanted.
But if you looked closely at Leo's desk, there were no photos. No personal mementos. Only a small, leather-bound notebook that he carried everywhere, filled with fragments of thoughts he couldn't explain.
He still didn't remember.
The "wall of fire" in his mind had cooled into a wall of stone. He remembered his name, his codes, and his board members. But the girl in the emerald dress? She was a ghost he chased in his dreams—a flash of lavender scent or a phantom touch on his cheek that vanished the moment he tried to grab it.
The heavy oak doors to Leo's office swung open. Luca walked in, tossing a leather briefcase onto the sofa. He was no longer the carefree college student. He wore the suit of a Vance executive now, his face hardened by two years of searching for a needle in a haystack.
"The Q3 reports are ready, Leo," Luca said, his voice flat.
There was a distance between the brothers now. Luca had stayed in the company not out of loyalty to the brand, but to stay close to the source of power. He spent his nights hacking into secure servers and his days bribing private investigators, all for one name: Lili.
"Thank you, Luca," Leo replied, not looking up from his monitor. "Is that all?"
Luca paused at the door, his hand on the handle. "It's the anniversary tomorrow. Two years since the 'accident.
'"
Leo's pen paused over a contract. A sharp, sudden throb pulsed behind his eyes—a jagged memory of a steering wheel and a scream. He pushed it down. "I don't celebrate tragedies, Luca. It was a dark day for the family. We've moved past it."
"Have we?" Luca turned, his eyes burning with a quiet fury. "Because I haven't forgotten that a girl was in that car with you. A girl who saved our father's life. A girl who vanished into thin air the night she was taken from St. Jude's."
Leo looked up then, his dark eyes vacant. "Our father said she was a drifter, Luca. An opportunist who caused the crash. Why do you keep bringing up a ghost?"
"Because she wasn't a ghost!" Luca shouted, slamming his hand against the door. "She was the person who made you human! And somewhere out there, she's either hurting or hidden, and you're sitting here signing memos for the man who erased her!"
Leo stared at his brother, a flicker of something—fear? longing?—passing through his stoic expression. "If she was so important... why can't I remember her name?"
Luca shook his head, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Because you're afraid to, Leo. You're afraid that if you remember her, you'll have to realize what you've become."
The expansion of Vance Global into the coastal territories was a strategic move Arthur had been pushing for months. It was a "clean" project, away from the prying eyes of the city's financial district. Luca had volunteered for the oversight role, not because he cared about the regional logistics, but because he needed a reason to leave the suffocating halls of the main tower.
The regional office in South Harbor was a far cry from the glass skyscraper in the city. It was a renovated brick warehouse near the docks, filled with the scent of salt air and the sound of foghorns.
"We've hired a local firm to handle the historical archiving of the land deeds, Mr. Vance," the branch manager said, leadenly walking Luca through the quiet back offices.
"The head archivist is incredibly meticulous. She's been with the local library for two years, but we brought her on as a contractor for this project."
Luca nodded absently, his mind miles away. He stopped at a heavy oak door labeled Records & Research
"She's inside now, preparing the Q4 reports. Shall I introduce you?"
"No," Luca said, his hand on the brass handle. "I'll handle the briefing myself. You can go."
The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a desk lamp and the grey light filtering through a high, arched window. The air smelled of old parchment and lavender—a scent that made Luca's heart skip a beat.
A woman was standing by a tall filing cabinet, her back to the door. She wore a simple charcoal sweater, her hair pinned up loosely. She was leaning slightly on a wooden cane, her movements slow and deliberate.
"I have the deeds for the North Pier ready," she said, her voice soft and steady, not turning around. "But the 1985 records are still missing a seal. If you could just—"
She stopped. The silence in the room was absolute. She felt the weight of the gaze behind her, a familiarity she hadn't felt in seven hundred days.
Slowly, painfully, she turned.
Luca felt the air leave his lungs. The woman standing before him was thinner, her face etched with a quiet, weary maturity. The "New Girl" was gone, replaced by someone who looked like she had survived a war. But the eyes—those dark, intelligent, and deeply sad eyes—were unmistakable.
"Lili?" Luca whispered, his voice cracking.
Lili froze. The file folder in her hand slipped, the papers scattering across the floor like autumn leaves. She stared at the man in the navy suit, the boy who had been her best friend, the brother of the man who had forgotten her.
"Luca," she breathed. It wasn't a greeting; it was a sob.