Part 2
### Chapter 1: Chapter 1
I’m very happy to share that I’ve just finalized the manuscript with my editor. She has carefully and beautifully woven the original 16 chapters together with all 8 bonus chapters , creating a brand-new, expanded version of the story.
Very soon, you’ll be able to read the complete edition of this book on Galatea . I can’t wait for you to see it!
Two years ago, Harvey chose his career over Freya.
She never got the chance to say goodbye.
Hours later, on her way to the airport, she was hit by a truck.
He never knew.
By the time he finally realized she had disappeared from his life, Freya was already in a hospital bed—broken, alone, and learning how to survive without him.
Now, fate brings them back together.
And he is her new boss.
He is colder now. More controlled. Impossible to avoid.
Harvey doesn’t treat her like someone from his past.
He treats her like something he can no longer let slip away.
And when Freya tries to resign, he refuses to let her go.
The closer he gets, the more things begin to surface.
The scars she hides beneath her clothes.
The pain she never spoke of.
And the truth about the day she disappeared.
Because Freya didn’t leave him.
She was coming back to him.
And she almost died trying to reach him.
Complete Chapters 16
Rating 4.5 ( 135 reviews ) Age Rating 13+
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Chapter 1
Freya POV：
After hours in the air, my right leg was acting up again, stiff and unresponsive.
That old injury always flared up when I put weight on it, a throbbing reminder of things best left forgotten.
I knitted my brows and walked out of the terminalwith my luggage,
The moment I unlocked my phone, the screen showed my Uber had arrived.
At least the day was ending according to plan.
“Bob, I just landed. Things went well enough.”
“Good to hear. Get back to the office ASAP. Word is there’s a major announcement coming down today.”
“Got it. I’m already in the car.”
I hung up and pulled open the door of the black sedan.
The vehicle sat higher off the ground than I expected, and as I lifted my leg, a sharp prick of pain shot through me again.
I gritted my teeth and slid onto the seat.
But the exact second the door clicked shut, a cold realization hit me—
The air inside was entirely too quiet.
The car was immaculate, smelling of brand-new leather laced with a crisp, chilling cologne.
“Rodwell Street,” I said, sliding my phone into my bag without looking up.
He turned his face slightly toward the back.
In that split second, the air left my lungs.
The face I had kissed ten thousand times.
It felt as if time itself had been brutally severed in two.
Then, I heard his voice, a low murmur.
The world ground to a sudden, screeching halt.
In that instant, I literally forgot how to breathe.
My fingers moved before my brain could process.
Driven by pure survival instinct, I scrambled for the door handle.
The freezing touch of the metal snapped me back to reality for a fraction of a second.
Only when the words left my mouth did I realize how violently my voice was trembling.
The humid outside air rushed in to meet me.
But the moment my foot slammed onto the asphalt, my right leg gave out entirely.
It was as if the main pillar holding my entire body upright had been pulled away.
I practically collapsed out of the vehicle.
My knees crashed hard onto the pavement.
By the time the sharp sting traveled up my body, I realized I was already gasping for air.
Behind me, his voice cut through the noise.
The moment that syllable dropped, my entire body froze into ice.
My body was being violently anchored by old, heavy memories.
More than that, I didn’t dare to.
I pressed both palms against the concrete, my fingertips turning numb with cold.
Then, and only then, did I force myself to crawl forward.
It felt like I was running from something that was actively hunting me down.
But deep down, I knew it wasn’t him chasing me.
The parts of me from two years ago that had never truly healed.
The wind blew from behind, carrying his scent, his voice.
It wasn’t until I ducked into the shadows near the side of the terminal that the tension snapped, and I completely fell apart.
I huddled in a corner of the pickup zone, the strength drained from my limbs.
That face, that magnetic voice, his scent...
Even though I’d only seen him for a few seconds, the memory wrapped around me like thorns.
It hurt, yet I felt a sick craving to be closer.
The vibration of the phone in my bag snapped me back.
“Can you find my car?” the real driver asked.
It took two seconds to find my voice.
I took several deep breaths, smoothing my expression before walking out.
I curled my lipand told myself:
The world is huge. I′ll never have to see him again.
As the Uber sped down the highway, the ghosts of two years ago flooded back.
The way he smiled when he told me about the promotion—
The one at the overseas office.
I had cried, screamed, begged him to stay.
My hand jerked, nails biting into my palm.
If I could just forget him, the pain would stop.
I walked into the office to the usual low hum of a workday in full swing.
Emily poked her head over the partition from the next cubicle.
“Yeah, everything went smooth.”
“Just a trip,” I said, dismissive. “Scraped some skin, that′s all.”
I sat down and hiked up my skirt slightly to inspect the damage.
She handed me a bottle of antiseptic.
“You better be careful. A hit like that... it takes forever to heal.”
“Thanks, Emily,” I muttered, my throat feeling like it was stuffed with cotton. “You′re always looking out for me.”
She watched me for a beat, her voice dropping to a cautious whisper.
“So... you going back for the surgery soon?”
A while later, Emily leaned over again.
“I heard they′re bringing in a new Director,” she pouted, clearly annoyed.
“I really thought they′d bump you up.”
I managed a small, tired smile.
“Are you kidding? I′ve only been here a year.”
“But your numbers are the best in the department...”
Before she could finish, the HR Director led someone into the room.
“Can I have everyone′s attention for a few minutes?”
Every pair of eyes drifted toward the front.
When I saw the figure standing beside him, the pen I was holding slipped through my fingers and clattered onto the desk.
He was broader than he′d been two years ago, his frame perfectly filled out by a crisp, bespoke suit.
The messy, dark brown curls I used to run my fingers through were gone, slicked back into a sharp, disciplined style.
His pale blue eyes were no longer lazy or warm; they were cold, piercing, and lethal.
I stared at him, unable to look away.
He scanned the room until his gaze locked onto mine.
I looked down in a panic, but I could still feel his icy stare lingering on me for several agonizing seconds.
“This is your new Director, Harvey Tamer. He comes to us with an incredible track record in sales and management—we′re lucky to have poached him.”
The office erupted in polite applause and hushed whispering.
I kept my head down, my heart hammering against my ribs until it actually hurt.
Emily leaned in, letting out a muffled squeal.
I forced a laugh, but my face felt like stone.
After the brief welcome, Harvey disappeared into his private office.
The floor returned to its usual rhythm as if nothing had happened.
I leaned back in my chair, my fingertips ice-cold.
He had become exactly who he wanted to be.
I had the ghosts of our past and the scars on my body.
Now, I was expected to welcome him as my boss.
My desk, the computer in front of me.
I kept it spotless every single day.
I used to workwith such a light heart, enjoying the quiet routine.
But now, all I felt was a restless, burning irritation.
I picked up a report, trying to force my focus back onto the pages. But I couldn’t make sense of a single line.
I shoved the folder aside and pressed my fingers hard into my temples.
Every breath I took dragged me back to those days.
Even when I tried to bury it, the memories refused to stop.
The door to the Director′s office swung open.
Harvey stepped out, his eyes landing directly on my desk.
My heart did a violent somersault.
Fine. It was bound to happen eventually.
I didn′t get up right away. I just sat there, staring into space.
For two years, I′d played out this reunion in my head—wondering what I′d look like, what I′d say.
But now that he was actually here, I didn’t want a confrontation.
I just wanted to run as far away from this building as possible.
I′d been in the Director′s office a thousand times, but this time, I had to steady my breathing for a full minute before I finally knocked.
He was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out over the city.
He still had that magnetic pull, that effortless way of commandeering my focus.
The tailored blazer was off, leaving him in a crisp white dress shirt that clung to his frame, tracing the broad line of his chest.
Black shirt stays—arm garters—were cinched around his biceps, emphasizing his strength.
I couldn’t stop the flash of memory:
The feel of my head resting against those arms.
He wasn’t the guy who lived in oversized hoodies anymore.
His face had hardened into maturity.
His pale blue eyes were like frozen lakes—unreadable and cold.
I didn’t want to dig for whatever was beneath the surface.
If anything remained unchanged, it was his scent.
I took a sharp, secret breath of it, and the fresh, clean notes tore through my memory like a blade.
I pressed the sharp corner of my folder into my palm, using the sting to stay grounded.
“Mr. Tamer, here is the latest client feedback.”
I set the file on his desk, carefully avoiding his gaze.
He just stood a few feet away, watching me.
The air in the office felt thick, pressurized, and the overhead lights were suddenly too bright.
His voice was slow, deliberate.
“I didn’t expect to find you here.”
Even without looking up, I felt the weight of his stare tracking every move I made.
I forced myself to meet his eyes.
“You achieved your dreams too, Mr. Tamer. Congratulations.”
A slow, ghost of a smile touched his lips—though it looked more like a smirk.
“I recall you hating sales as a career choice.”
I gave him a thin, distant smile.
“Maybe I just hated one particular salesman.”
“Fair enough. At least having you here will make the transition easier. After all... we know each other so well.”
A dull ache bloomed in my chest.
I took one long, steadying breath and pulled a single sheet of paper from the folder, slapping it onto his desk.
“Don′t count on it,” I said. “I′m resigning. Effective immediately.”
He paused for a second, a single eyebrow arching.
“Oh? I just got here and you′re already quitting?”
I wouldn′t let myself survive the same wreckage twice.
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### Chapter 2: Chapter 2
He started toward me, one slow step at a time.
He picked up my resignation letter from the desk, scanned it briefly, and then leveled his gaze back at mine.
He was barely half a step away.
His height dominated my entire field of vision.
I could almost feel the heat radiating from beneath his white shirt.
It wasn't the warmth I remembered; it was aggressive, predatory.
I had this sudden, uncontrollable urge to lean into him, but the realization hit me —
He wasn't the man I used to know.
My breath hitched, and I tightened my fists to steady myself.
He picked up a folder from the desk and flipped through the pages.
“Your numbers are excellent. You’re ranked first in the entire department.”
He set the folder down and looked at me.
“Performance and resignation aren't mutually exclusive,” I shot back with a cold laugh.
“Fair point. A move like this... it’s very you .”
That hit me like a hammer to the chest.
I wanted to snap back, but I caught my words just in time.
Don’t provoke him. It’s not wise.
My hands gripped the edge of the desk.
He glanced at the file again before tossing it back onto the desk.
“I just took over, and my top performer wants out,” he said, closing the gap by another half-step.
“What’s that going to look like to the rest of the team?”
The slight rise and fall of his chest sent my thoughts into a tailspin.
I turned and took a step back, but he kept pressing in.
His heat, his scent—everything I’d spent two years trying to bury—was now only two inches away.
I lifted the resignation letter and held it between us like a shield.
“I don’t care what people think. Just sign it.”
He stared at me for a long time, then let out a faint, weary sigh.
“Freya, you’re still as impulsive and childish as ever.”
He sounded so calm, but the words stung like a physical blow.
That’s what he’d called me two years ago when I was sobbing, begging him not to leave.
I was just a girl in love back then.
I never realized that in his eyes, I was just a joke.
Thankfully, that girl died in the accident.
“So what if I am?” I countered harshly.
“Sign the paper and you won't have to deal with an impulsive, childish subordinate anymore.”
A ghost of a smirk played on his lips.
“And I want my commissions settled immediately.”
“The company has a process. I’m not sure where you are in the pipeline yet, but sales payouts are always delayed.”
He acted like he was reading it, though there weren't enough words on that page to justify such a long look.
“Based on my experience, you won't see that money anytime soon.”
“I’ll handle it when I get around to it.”
“I have my own schedule, Freya.”
His gaze dropped from my eyes to my lips and lingered there for two agonizing seconds.
His pale blue eyes flickered, and his pulse thrummed in his throat.
Then, he looked away as if nothing had happened.
“I just started. I’m going to be buried for the first few days. Don’t always resort to extremes to solve your problems.”
“Is that really how you see me?”
My knuckles were white against the desk.
But his gaze remained unnervingly steady.
I actually thought he’d be good to me, or at least cut me some slack for old time's sake.
This wasn't Harvey Tamer anymore.
I told myself not to lose it—not on company time.
Finally, I found my voice. It was flat and cold.
“Fine. I’ll take it up with Accounting. I won't bother you with it.”
His gaze drifted from my face down to my legs.
Before I could answer, he crouched down, reaching out to hitch up the hem of my pencil skirt.
My whole body went rigid, my voice trembling.
His hand froze in mid-air, then slowly retracted.
Perhaps he’d finally remembered that he was no longer the man who had the right to touch me whenever he pleased.
I wanted to step back, but my legs felt like they were bolted to the floorboards.
“Stay away from me,” I hissed. “Or are you not worried about a sexual harassment suit?”
He stood up, his expression unreadable.
He dragged a chair over, planting it right in front of me.
His voice was a sub-zero command.
“In your dreams,” I whispered, the words barely audible.
“I’m not going to say it a second time.”
I hesitated for a beat before slowly lifting my leg and resting it on the chair.
I gripped the edge of the desk, fighting to stay upright.
The fall at the airport had done real damage to my already fragile leg.
Lifting it now sent a sharp, hot flash of pain through the joint.
I gritted my teeth, refusing to let out so much as a whimper.
“Pull the skirt up. Or I’ll do it for you.”
I glared at him, but eventually, I gripped the side of the fabric and pulled it up just enough to expose the bruised knee.
He kept a professional distance—just far enough away that I couldn't technically accuse him of anything.
The locked memories broke free then, clawing at my mind.
Me, crying as I pointed to a scratch; him, laughing softly as he disinfected the wound, calling me his "fragile glass flower."
But now, I didn't want him near me.
This scrape was nothing compared to the surgical steel buried deep inside my thigh.
That steel was a constant reminder—aching and numbing—of the nightmare I’d lived through.
That was the pain that truly kept me from breathing.
His eyes swirled with an emotion I couldn't decipher.
Walking back to his desk, he sat down, slipping back into his "Director" persona. “You’ve really decided to leave?”
He grabbed the pen and lowered it; the nib was on the verge of touching the paper when he suddenly stopped.
He stared at me, his light blue eyes as flat and still as a frozen sea.
“There’s no chance of you staying?”
He watched me for two long seconds.
The pen descended, carving a graceful line across the paper.
Then, he slid the sheet back toward me.
I picked it up, and the blood rushed to my head in a blinding heat.
Even two years ago, at the height of my hatred, I had never spoken to him like that.
He just capped his pen with agonizing slowness and looked up, indifferent.
“I have a responsibility to maintain the stability of my sales force. Please try to understand.”
I crumpled the resignation letter into a ball and turned to go.
I grabbed the door handle, intending to slam it hard enough to shake the walls.
But at the last millisecond, I caught the momentum.
Upsetting him further was a bad move.
My bonus was still in his hands.
More importantly, he was a different man now. I had no idea what the consequences of another outburst would be.
I could still feel his icy stare burning a hole in my back.
I let the tension bleed out of my hand, turned around.
And gave him a beautiful, lethal, and utterly fake smile.
Authors can write and upload their manuscripts on Inkit for free and writers retain 100% of their copyrights while writing on Inkitt
Readers can read all books for free, without any ads and give the authors feedback.
Books that perform well based on their reader engagement are published on our Galatea app.
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