---- Chapter 9 Chapter 9 Aimee Ramirez POV: The restaurant was an exclusive, reservations-only place with a view that made the city look like a scattered handful of jewels. Anderson Hernandez was already there, waiting at a secluded corner table. He stood as | approached, his smile genuine and warm. "Madam Chairwoman," he said, his eyes twinkling as he pulled out my chair. "l must admit, your recent corporate restructuring was the most thrilling piece of news I've seen all year. Brutal. Elegant. Masterful." "| had a good teacher," | said, taking a sip of the wine he had already ordered. "He taught you the game," Anderson countered, his gaze steady and intense. "But you invented a new way to win." We didn't talk about Kyle anymore. We talked about the future About Al, quantum computing, the next frontier of technology. The conversation was exhilarating. It was a meeting of minds, a parry and thrust of intellect that left me feeling more alive than | had in years. He didn't just listen to my ideas; he challenged them, built on them, saw the possibilities | saw "| have a proposal," he said, as the dessert plates were cleared. ---- "I'm not interested in a merger, Anderson," | said, a playful warning in my tone. "This isn't about our companies," he said, his expression turning serious. "It's about us. I'm not a fool, Aimee. | know you're in the middle of a war. But when the dust settles... I'd like to be there." His directness was disarming. There were no games, no hidden agendas. It was a simple, straightforward declaration of intent. "I'm... not in a place to even consider that," | said honestly. "I'm a patient man," he replied, his smile returning. "And I'm very good at long-term strategy." He drove me home. At the door to the penthouse, he took my hand, his thumb gently stroking my knuckles. He didn't try to kiss me. He just looked at me, his eyes full of a quiet understanding. "Goodnight, Aimee," he said, and left. | stood there for a long moment, the warmth of his hand still tingling on my skin. A part of me, a part | thought had died, felt a flicker of hope. The next few weeks were a whirlwind of activity. | was rebuilding my company from the ground up, purging the sycophants loyal to Kyle and promoting the brilliant minds he had overlooked. | was ruthless, efficient, and in complete ---- control. But he haunted me. Not Kyle the man, but the ghost of my own failure. How could | have been so blind? How could | have mistaken his love of power for a love of me? One night, unable to sleep, | found myself in the media room, scrolling through old digital photo albums. | found a video from five years ago. It was the night we secured our first round of major funding. We were in our tiny, cramped apartment, drinking cheap champagne out of coffee mugs. On the video, Kyle raised his mug. "To us," he said, his eyes shining with a sincerity that broke my heart. "To my brilliant, beautiful partner. | couldn't have done any of this without you. I'll spend the rest of my life making you happy, Aimee. | swear it." | watched my younger self beam at him, my face full of such absolute, unguarded love and trust. A single, hot tear traced a path down my cheek. | wasn't crying for the man | had lost. | was crying for the woman | had been. The woman who had believed in fairy tales. | deleted the file. Then | deleted the entire album. All of it. The past was a dead language. It was time to learn a new one.