"Damien Point Of View''
Corporate mixers were a waste of time—mine, especially. Schmoozing with mid-level managers over watered-down cocktails and synthetic smiles? I'd rather read financial statements in the dark. But appearance mattered, especially now. Lu Group needed to see I was back, invested, present. Not just the name on the glass tower.
The event took up the top floor. Skyline views. Cold lighting. Faux warmth. A string quartet played in the background, pretending to elevate the ambience. I wasn't buying it. Neither was Chloe.
She clung to my arm, laughing too loudly at a joke I didn't hear. Her lipstick matched her dress: dangerous red.
"Smile more," she whispered through her teeth. "You look like you're mourning."
I offered a nod instead.
Smile more. Right.
I made the rounds. Patted backs. Said the right things. Promised growth. Innovation. Market stability. All the hollow buzzwords. None of it meant anything.
But she was still in my head.
Ella Lu.
Or maybe not her.
Someone. Something.
That woman from downstairs.
The one with the unreadable eyes and measured movements. Her voice still scratched at the back of my mind. I should've known her. I didn't.
But I couldn't stop thinking about her.
"Damian."
Chloe's voice cut in. "The Singapore team leads are here. You remember Daryl."
I nodded again, shook hands. I let the conversation carry me. Numbers. Strategies. Overseas expansion.
But even then, I caught myself scanning the crowd.
I didn't see her.
An assistant tapped my shoulder. "Sir, there's an urgent vendor issue from the Beijing branch. Would you like to step aside?"
Finally.
"Yes. Show me."
The hallway outside the mixer was quieter. Dimmer. I checked my phone as I walked, answering a few emails, preparing to head for the private boardroom where the call was set up.
Then it happened.
A shift in air pressure.
Someone brushed my shoulder. Light. Accidental.
I looked up from the phone—just a flash of movement.
A woman passed. Her stride careful. Deliberate. She wore flats. A modest dress. Carried nothing but a half-empty glass and a guarded expression.
Our shoulders had touched. Just enough.
I didn't stop.
Why would I?
But something in that moment latched onto my mind like a splinter.
The way she held her breath.
The way she didn't apologize.
The fact that I looked straight at her and felt nothing.
And yet, I felt something.
I walked ten more steps. Turned the corner. My brain kept scrolling through memories, trying to tag her to something. Some meeting? A previous project? I couldn't place it.
My thumb hovered over the phone screen.
Who the hell was she?
"Sir?" the assistant prompted. "The boardroom's ready."
I nodded.
But I looked back.
Only for a second.
She was gone.
No name. No voice. Just a flicker of something misplaced.
The boardroom was sterile. Glass and chrome. I joined the call, spoke in clipped Mandarin, gave the necessary orders.
Handled it.
But the moment stayed.
Later, at home, Chloe poured two glasses of wine and handed me one without asking.
"You were distracted," she said.
"I was busy."
"You were elsewhere."
She leaned against the kitchen counter, watching me.
"Something wrong with the Beijing deal? Or did some intern steal your attention today?"
I didn't respond.
She sipped her wine.
"We should go away this weekend. Unplug. Paris again? Or St. Moritz. I heard it's quieter this season."
I shrugged off my blazer, dropped it on the stool.
"No time. Too much on my desk."
"You didn't even look at me all night."
"You wore red. Everyone looked."
"Not you."
Her tone shifted.
I sat, pulled my laptop open.
Work.
Control.
"Damian."
I ignored her.
The laptop flickered on. I pulled up the internal event photos. Someone from PR always uploaded candids.
Why?
I didn't know.
But I scrolled. Frame by frame.
There. Background. Near the bar. Half-turned.
Her.
Hair tied back. Eyes sharp. Not smiling.
She hadn't belonged. That was what struck me most.
Everyone else had plastered grins. Polished clothes. Eager eyes.
She looked like she was bracing for war.
I zoomed in.
Still no name.
Just the feeling.
Like I'd seen her before.
Like I'd missed something.
Chloe's voice was soft now. "Do I need to worry about her?"
"Who?"
"Whoever you're staring at like she's a ghost."
I closed the laptop.
"No one."
A lie.
I didn't know who she was.
But I knew she wasn't no one.
Not anymore.
---