The first thing she noticed when the plane landed was how tight her chest felt.
Not from fear of flying. Not from exhaustion. But from the weight of coming back.
Three years.
Three years since she ran from this country with nothing but a suitcase, a broken heart, and a secret she had sworn would never see the light of day.
"Mummy?"
Her grip tightened around her son's small hand. He looked up at her with wide, curious eyes—the same eyes people always commented on. Sharp. Dark. Too mature for a child his age.
"Yes, baby?" she answered softly.
"Are we really here?"
She forced a smile. "Yes. We're here."
What she didn't say was I hope this place doesn't destroy us.
The airport was crowded, loud, and overwhelming. Voices echoed everywhere. Luggage wheels scraped against the floor. Announcements played over the speakers in a language she once knew by heart but now felt distant from.
She lowered her head slightly, pulling the brim of her cap down as they walked. It was stupid. She knew that. No one was looking for her. No one even knew she existed anymore.
Still, fear had a way of clinging to her skin.
Three years ago, she had walked into a masked bar with shaking hands and tears blurring her vision. She remembered the heat of the lights, the anonymity, the way everyone hid behind masks like they were all running from something.
She hadn't gone there looking for love.
She had gone there because she didn't care anymore.
The betrayal was still sharp in her chest—the image of her ex tangled with her stepsister burned into her memory. She remembered laughing that night. Laughing like nothing mattered. She remembered the stranger's hands, firm and steady, the way his voice grounded her when everything else felt like it was spinning out of control.
She had never seen his face.
She had never learned his name.
And she had never expected that one night to change her entire life.
"Mummy, look!" her son said suddenly, pointing upward.
Her heart stopped.
"No," she said quickly, pulling his hand down. "Don't point."
He frowned. "Why?"
"Just… stay close to me, okay?"
She didn't look up. She didn't want to. Something inside her already knew.
Applause thundered through the arrival hall.
Curiosity tugged at her despite herself.
Slowly, unwillingly, she lifted her gaze.
The massive screen above the hall lit up, bright and unavoidable.
A man stood at the center of it.
Tall. Sharp. Dressed in a perfectly tailored suit. His presence alone commanded attention. Cameras flashed around him as reporters shoved microphones forward.
"Abi Group's CEO receives International Business Leader Award…"
Her blood ran cold.
Abi.
The name hit her like a physical blow.
Her breath caught painfully in her throat.
Even without the mask, even after all these years, she knew him.
Those eyes.
That jaw.
That same calm, dangerous confidence that had wrapped around her that night and never fully let go.
Her fingers trembled.
She tightened her grip on her son's hand so hard he whimpered softly.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, loosening it immediately. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
Her mind raced.
Why is he here?
Why now?
Why today of all days?
She had known he was powerful. Even that night, she could feel it—the control, the authority in the way he moved, the way people naturally made space for him. But she never imagined this.
A billionaire CEO.
A man with influence, reach, and power that stretched far beyond anything she could fight.
"Mummy," her son said quietly. "Who's that man?"
Her heart slammed violently against her ribs.
"No one," she replied too fast. "Just… someone important."
Her son stared at the screen longer than she liked. Too long.
She pulled him gently toward her, positioning herself between him and the screen.
"Let's go," she said. "Your guardian is waiting."
As they walked, fear crawled up her spine.
She hadn't planned on this.
She had told herself she was ready to come back. That she was strong now. That she could handle anything as long as her son was safe.
But seeing Abi like that—real, powerful, untouchable—shattered that illusion.
Because if he ever found out…
She swallowed hard.
If he ever found out about her son, she didn't doubt he would take him.
Not out of cruelty.
Out of entitlement.
Out of certainty.
Out of obsession.
Her guardian hugged her tightly when they met, chattering about how much she'd grown, how proud she was, how things would be easier now. She smiled. Nodded. Played the role.
Later that evening, once her son was asleep, she finally allowed herself to sit down.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from her guardian.
I have good news. I've arranged a meeting for you. Someone very impressive. I think you'll like him.
Her stomach dropped.
What kind of meeting? she typed.
A dinner. Just to talk. He's single. Successful. A good man.
Her fingers hovered over the screen.
She didn't want this.
She didn't have room in her life for complications. Her son came first. Always.
I don't think—
Another message popped up.
He's back in the country for a short while. It's fate, really.
Fate.
The word made her chest tighten painfully.
She stared at her sleeping son, his lashes resting softly against his cheeks, his breathing steady and peaceful.
"I won't let anyone hurt you," she whispered. "I promise."
The first thing she noticed when the plane landed was how tight her chest felt.
Not from fear of flying. Not from exhaustion. But from the weight of coming back.
Three years.
Three years since she ran from this country with nothing but a suitcase, a broken heart, and a secret she had sworn would never see the light of day.
"Mummy?"
Her grip tightened around her son's small hand. He looked up at her with wide, curious eyes—the same eyes people always commented on. Sharp. Dark. Too mature for a child his age.
"Yes, baby?" she answered softly.
"Are we really here?"
She forced a smile. "Yes. We're here."
What she didn't say was I hope this place doesn't destroy us.
The airport was crowded, loud, and overwhelming. Voices echoed everywhere. Luggage wheels scraped against the floor. Announcements played over the speakers in a language she once knew by heart but now felt distant from.
She lowered her head slightly, pulling the brim of her cap down as they walked. It was stupid. She knew that. No one was looking for her. No one even knew she existed anymore.
Still, fear had a way of clinging to her skin.
Three years ago, she had walked into a masked bar with shaking hands and tears blurring her vision. She remembered the heat of the lights, the anonymity, the way everyone hid behind masks like they were all running from something.
She hadn't gone there looking for love.
She had gone there because she didn't care anymore.
The betrayal was still sharp in her chest—the image of her ex tangled with her stepsister burned into her memory. She remembered laughing that night. Laughing like nothing mattered. She remembered the stranger's hands, firm and steady, the way his voice grounded her when everything else felt like it was spinning out of control.
She had never seen his face.
She had never learned his name.
And she had never expected that one night to change her entire life.
"Mummy, look!" her son said suddenly, pointing upward.
Her heart stopped.
"No," she said quickly, pulling his hand down. "Don't point."
He frowned. "Why?"
"Just… stay close to me, okay?"
She didn't look up. She didn't want to. Something inside her already knew.
Applause thundered through the arrival hall.
Curiosity tugged at her despite herself.
Slowly, unwillingly, she lifted her gaze.
The massive screen above the hall lit up, bright and unavoidable.
A man stood at the center of it.
Tall. Sharp. Dressed in a perfectly tailored suit. His presence alone commanded attention. Cameras flashed around him as reporters shoved microphones forward.
"Abi Group's CEO receives International Business Leader Award…"
Her blood ran cold.
Abi.
The name hit her like a physical blow.
Her breath caught painfully in her throat.
Even without the mask, even after all these years, she knew him.
Those eyes.
That jaw.
That same calm, dangerous confidence that had wrapped around her that night and never fully let go.
Her fingers trembled.
She tightened her grip on her son's hand so hard he whimpered softly.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, loosening it immediately. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
Her mind raced.
Why is he here?
Why now?
Why today of all days?
She had known he was powerful. Even that night, she could feel it—the control, the authority in the way he moved, the way people naturally made space for him. But she never imagined this.
A billionaire CEO.
A man with influence, reach, and power that stretched far beyond anything she could fight.
"Mummy," her son said quietly. "Who's that man?"
Her heart slammed violently against her ribs.
"No one," she replied too fast. "Just… someone important."
Her son stared at the screen longer than she liked. Too long.
She pulled him gently toward her, positioning herself between him and the screen.
"Let's go," she said. "Your guardian is waiting."
As they walked, fear crawled up her spine.
She hadn't planned on this.
She had told herself she was ready to come back. That she was strong now. That she could handle anything as long as her son was safe.
But seeing Abi like that—real, powerful, untouchable—shattered that illusion.
Because if he ever found out…
She swallowed hard.
If he ever found out about her son, she didn't doubt he would take him.
Not out of cruelty.
Out of entitlement.
Out of certainty.
Out of obsession.
Her guardian hugged her tightly when they met, chattering about how much she'd grown, how proud she was, how things would be easier now. She smiled. Nodded. Played the role.
Later that evening, once her son was asleep, she finally allowed herself to sit down.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from her guardian.
I have good news. I've arranged a meeting for you. Someone very impressive. I think you'll like him.
Her stomach dropped.
What kind of meeting? she typed.
A dinner. Just to talk. He's single. Successful. A good man.
Her fingers hovered over the screen.
She didn't want this.
She didn't have room in her life for complications. Her son came first. Always.
I don't think—
Another message popped up.
He's back in the country for a short while. It's fate, really.
Fate.
The word made her chest tighten painfully.
She stared at her sleeping son, his lashes resting softly against his cheeks, his breathing steady and peaceful.
"I won't let anyone hurt you," she whispered. "I promise."