“I’m glad to see you back, Rence.”

Laurence analyzed the expression of the woman who had stopped him on his way to the CEO’s office. A faint smile rested on her glittery pink lips while her light brown eyes sparkled.

Unlike Warren, who had given him a hostile reception a couple of minutes ago, this female colleague might have been someone Florence used to get along with.

“Oh, I heard what happened, and...” The woman shifted her head to the side, her curly, ash-gray hair bouncing at the movement.

If there was one thing in this company that got Laurence’s thumbs up, it was the freedom to dress in whatever style employees felt most comfortable in, as long as it wasn’t vulgar or interfering with their work. At his old cashier job, most of these people would’ve been called out by a manager who saw piercings as trouble and bright lipstick as slutty. Florence would have been fired just for having green underlights. Even bleached hair had been off-limits back then, let alone anything outside black or dark brown.

Laurence preferred this company’s rules and regulations, which didn’t discriminate based on employees’ fashion preferences.

“You may not remember me, but we used to spend a lot of our lunch break together, and what I’m trying to say is, ah, I hope it doesn’t come off weird, but I really miss you. As a friend, of course. That’s why I was really happy when I heard you were coming back to work. And what I really mean is, now that you’re back, I’d love to catch up sometime, Rence.” The woman fiddled with the strap of her identification badge.

Laurence offered her a sheepish grin. He glanced down at the mug of tea in his hand, worried that the ice had melted, before returning his gaze to the woman. “So, uh, I’m sorry, but like what you said, I don’t remember you or anyone here for that matter, so I’d appreciate it if I could have your name first.”

For a second, the woman stared vacantly at Laurence as if he had asked her about an advanced mathematical problem she didn’t know how to solve. And then, like a light bulb turning on, her expression brightened.

“Name. Oh, right, name.” She clasped a hand around her ID card and took a step closer to Laurence. “Of course, my name is Odessa. Odessa Gaviola.”

Kind of scatterbrained, Laurence mentally noted, but a lot better person than Warren.

Odessa showed him her ID card, as if her words would not be enough. Once she was near, her eyes landed on what Laurence was holding.

“Oh, is that for Mr. Ruiz? Ah, I’m sorry. Didn’t know you’re on an errand. I didn’t mean to hold you up.” She moved aside, her rouged cheeks turning rosier.

Laurence was about to resume walking when the woman’s dejected sigh caused him to pause. Looking over his shoulder, he asked, “Oh, that’s right. Do you want to have lunch together later, Odessa?”

Round, brown eyes blinked as they bathed in puzzlement.

Laurence gave a minute for his question to register, but he sensed that the woman’s processor was working slower this time.

“You see, I’m still trying to get used to work and the people around me. I just thought it would be nice to have at least one person who can help me with the things I’ve forgotten about this place,” he added, hoping it would provide her with more clarity.

Life returned to Odessa’s expression, and anticipation gathered in her small face. “Of course, yes. We can go to the café in front of the building. We used to always go there.”

With a smile, Laurence told Odessa to see her later. He brought his attention back to his duty and made his way to the most prominent office in the building.

As he sauntered through the hallways, the ganders in his direction didn’t escape Laurence. Whispering employees would check him out from head to toe when they thought he didn’t notice, but once he looked at them, they would avert their eyes and pretend to be busy.

“Isn’t that him? Mr. Villena’s son... The one with...”

“Yeah, yeah, with the CEO. Lower your voice, idiot. He’d hear you.”

Say that to yourself. You’re just the same breed of idiots.

Laurence frowned. He had gotten a load of the whole scenario the minute he’d arrived here earlier. The way most of the workers had exchanged meaningful gazes and murmured at each other had already clued him in that Florence Villena was far from being the most liked employee in this place. If anything, he was probably the favorite topic of the company’s gossipmongers.

Laurence had initially thought these people had just been making a scandal out of Florence’s suicide attempt. But hearing what some of these jerks had to say made him believe there was something more before the incident that these blabbermouths found worthy of the buzz.

Just what kind of hellhole life have you been living here, Florence Villena? And what’s that about the CEO?

The door of the boss’s office behind the secretary’s counter came into view. Instead of making haste, Laurence stopped in front of a male employee who was standing near a potted indoor tree and had been sneaking glances at him over the folder he was holding.

Without much of a preface, Laurence asked, “Ain’t it hard reading it this way?” He swiped the folder with his free hand, flipped it over, and returned it to the guy. “It’s upside down.”

The idiot had the nerve to appear embarrassed. Laurence snorted, a reaction the timid Florence might not have ever done in front of anyone, judging by the incredulity that flitted in the guy’s stretched-out eyes.

Laurence didn’t wait for the man’s excuse. He approached Marian at her desk.

“That took some time, no?” the pregnant secretary said, her gentle tone anything but scolding.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Marian. I was kinda delayed by some people I ran into.” Laurence examined the rooibos tea, thankful that the air conditioners on top of the January temperature had kept the ice from melting.

“I can only imagine.” Soft laughter coated the senior worker’s words. “Now bring that inside to Mr. Ruiz. I’m pretty sure he’s been waiting for it.”

“Is it okay that I’m the one bringing it?”

Marian looked up from the documents she’d been writing. “Why not? It’s also a good chance for you to give courtesy to the CEO and let him know that you’re back, no?”

Whether the older woman was unaware of the rumor circulating in the main office or simply didn’t care about such nonsense, it was clear she had no issue entrusting this small but important task to a boomerang employee.

“It’s okay, Florence. Go.”

Laurence nodded, knowing he could no longer disagree with her. He also thought it might help him draw a better picture of what relationship Florence Villena and Isaac Ruiz had, and he might find out the reason people were keen to gossip about it.

Now that he thought of it, he had yet to learn the type of person this Mr. Ruiz was. Even after the acquisition of the construction firm he used to work at, all Laurence had known about the ND Corporation’s big boss was his name. He didn’t even have any idea of the man’s physical appearance.

Should have looked at the organizational chart earlier.

A little apprehensive, Laurence opened the door to the CEO’s office.

The first thing that grabbed his interest upon entering was the indoor plants lined on the ebony long desk at the right side of the room. Gray sofas and a wooden coffee table occupied most of the middle and left area. Only the orange and pink flowers of kalanchoe and begonia added color to the dark interior of the room.

Laurence found the person standing by the window, overseeing the city, one hand in the pocket of his slack pants. Sunlight shone on his wavy chestnut hair, unveiling the reddish undertones.

What a cliché sight.

Isaac Ruiz paid him no heed as Laurence advanced toward the CEO’s work desk.

“Miss Marian wanted me to bring this to you, sir,” he said, announcing his presence, and placed the mug on the table.

From his peripheral vision, he saw Mr. Ruiz finally turn to him. Laurence raised his head to search for the big boss’s face.

Only for his whole surroundings to freeze the instant his gaze landed on a pair of sea-green eyes.

His heartbeat sprinted at the same time as a whirlwind of flashbacks rushed at him. Laurence opened his mouth, but immediately shut it again when not a single word came out. He shifted his gaze, scanning Mr. Ruiz’s features closer, wondering if his sight was playing a trick on him.

In this lifetime, Laurence had met only one person who had that rare color of irises.

A solemn expression rested on Isaac Ruiz’s face, further defining his sharp jawline. His eyes held an indistinct emotion.

Laurence made out the twin moles on the outer corner of his right eyelid, another mark that perfectly matched the picture of a younger boy in his memory.

“Ice...” he attempted once more, uttering the word just above his breath, as he willed his pulse to calm down. Realizing he had yet to move an inch, Laurence straightened his back and abstractedly gestured at the drink, not once breaking eye contact with the CEO.

“Ah, the… your iced tea.” He winced when he picked out the nerves in his voice and the tremor in his hand. As an afterthought, he added, “Sir.”

Isaac Ruiz continued to give Laurence a silent stare, making the latter’s apprehension grow before he returned to observing the view outside. “Just leave it right there,” he said in a rich, low-pitched voice.

A hybrid of relief, disappointment, and annoyance came over Laurence at the man’s lack of reaction to him. He could not help but frown at the side profile of his boss.

“Is there something else?” The young CEO glanced back at him while Laurence remained quiet and motionless.

“No, sir. Then, I’ll be excusing myself.” He tried to deadpan, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

Laurence made a curt nod, swiveled on his heels, and strode out of the room. All the time, the inexplicable dismay inside him persisted. Without so much as a word to the CEO’s female assistant, he hurried to the washroom.

The complicated expression on Florence Villena’s face greeted him as soon as he stood in front of the mirror. His brows were knitted, and his lips were pursed. Laurence kept scowling at the reflection as the voices of people in the past echoed in his head.

“Isaac Leonard Fahlgren? Heir to the Fahlgren company? Yep, we know that stuck-up brat.”

“Leonard, that’s the name of my father. I don’t like it as much as I don’t like my surname. I don’t want his name to be connected to me in any way, so I promised myself I’m going to drop it first thing I get the chance.”

“They said he’s a smartass who caused his old man’s company to go bankrupt by growing his own business and competing against him.”

“No way, mate! Isla? As in the vocalist of that former rock band Soul Ecstasy? She’s your mom? You ain’t kidding, are ya?”

Laurence turned on the faucet and washed his face to cool down. He closed his eyes and lowered his head, ignoring the water dripping from his side fringe.

His mind conjured up an image of a teenage boy with a meek smile for a fleeting moment before it faded away. In its place shaped up a picture of a twenty-something man with an unnerving gaze.

Laurence gripped the edge of the sink.

What is that guy doing here?