One year ago, Summer stood at the altar alone. A symbol. A meme.
Now she stood in the Vale Enterprises boardroom— but as a rival CEO ready for
blood not a jilted bride.
With a gentle click, the door to the meeting room opened.
Sebastian Vale looked up from behind his obsidian desk, annoyed by the
interruption—until his gaze locked on the woman standing in the doorway.
Without hesitation, Summer Bennet walked in alongside her lawyer and
assistant, just stood there in a steel-gray dress, heels echoing like a countdown to
war. She didn’t react. Didn’t blink.
Dressed in slate gray outfit that matched the color as his storm-cloud eyes,
Damien leaned on the table. Everything around him stilled. Time seemed to hold
its breath similarly. He hadn’t expected to see her again — much less in this
manner.
Confident. Controlled. And absolutely lethal in heels.
He still looked good and she disliked that.
The sharp cut of his suit. He hadn’t changed much. The same chiseled jaw, the
same quiet intensity. The watch outweighs most people’s mortgages. The same
stormy gray eyes that once made her breath catch—now only made her blood
boil.
She yearned to hate him. In full. Cleanly.
But hate isn’t that simple when part of your heart still remembers the man who
once made you feel seen. Even if it was all a lie.
His want to touch her was something he loathed. To say I’m sorry and mean it.
But sorry was weak. And he didn’t use the word weakness.
So he just nodded.
He stood slowly. "You're late."
She smiled with cold precision. "You're still here. Pity."
The room tensed. Summer didn’t sit. With the skyline glowing behind her like a
crown of fire,She stood at the far end of the glass table.
Their legal teams shuffled nervously. His counsel cleared his throat. “Mr. Vale.
Miss Bennet. We’re here to resolve a contractual dispute related to the pre-
existing—
”
“Non-existent,” Summer interjected abruptly. “Marriage. That never
happened.” “We won’t proceed,” she stated simply.
A red-marked document was slid by across the table by her lawyer, Priya
Patel. “Clause added,” she muttered.
“Unfortunately,” the lawyer said, flipping through papers, “Clause 17A still
applies. It was never legally dissolved because—well—Mr. Vale left before
signatures were finalized. That clause is presently in effect.”
Damien frowned. “Which clause?”
His counsel, Mr. Robert, pushed the document forward.
Both parties primary shares in Bennet Biotech and Vale Enterprises will be
suspended and reassigned to outside trustees for merger stabilization, if the
marriage is not completed by the stipulated date.
“Control of your company,” Summer stated slowly, leaning in, “and mine… goes to
your father’s board if we don’t get married.”
Damien glanced at her.
“And let me guess. You’re not letting go of your company. You’re making this
personal.”
“Not after clawing it back from nothing while the whole world laughed at me.”
“And you?” she questioned. “How far are you willing to go to protect your
empire?” Now it’s just business. Don’t take it so hard on yourself.”
His jaw tightened.
It appeared to be all the way.
Summer had intention to marry him. But letting his father's board take her
company? Never.
The PR director cleared her throat timidly. “For appearances, we’ll need to work
collaboratively on public appearances. Minimum twelve per quarter. Couple
interviews. A Forbes Love & Legacy Edition feature”
“No,” declared Summer flatly.
“Yes,” Damien countered.
Their voices overlapped, and for a moment, it was almost like the old days—too
loud, too close, too much.
The lawyers scribbled notes.
Clause after clause, line after line—the air grew heavier with every condition:
Shared residence clause: He proposed; she modified to “scheduled appearances
with photographic proof.”
Confidentiality clause: He insisted on that press speculation about her private
relationships be prohibited.
Financial escrow clause: She demanded immediate deposit of ten million dollars in
“good faith.”
Non-disparagement clause: They both clashed over who needed it more.
Each section read like a battle scar.
The tension lingered even after the lawyers stood to pack up.
Summer rose, gathering her documents. Her voice, when it came, was silk over
steel.
“This isn’t a reconciliation, Damien. It’s containment”.
He stood straight. “The world will see us as one, call it what you want”.
“The world can believe whatever it wants. I know better.” She said in a whisper
as she brushed past him.
He caught her wrist gently, just enough to remind her he still could. “And what if
I’m not the same man who left you?”
Her laugh was soft, razor-thin. “Then prove it—without disappearing this time.”
She pulled free, heels clicking away as the door closed behind her.
Damien stayed, gazing at the contract’s ink drying.
For the first time in years, he was unsure of the winner.
