Lawyer: “Mrs. Reid, Mr. Kier is asking to reach out. Should I share your number?”
My brows drew together. Kier? That name felt like a ghost from another life. Kier Dela Cruz—my high school rival, the boy who challenged me at every design contest, who always fought me for top spot in class, and later, in the business world.
Why now? Why him?
I typed back, “Yes. Sure.”
Seconds later, my phone lit up with a call. I hesitated, then pressed answer.
“Karylle.” His voice was deeper, older, but the same teasing warmth lingered beneath it. “I heard about the divorce.”
I swallowed, tasting blood on my tongue. “Didn’t realize gossip traveled that far.”
He laughed softly. “It does when it’s about you. Listen, Karylle—”
“What do you want, Kier?”
“No,” he said. “It’s supposed to be real. I want you, Karylle. I’ve always wanted you. You were just too blind back then.”
I didn’t expect to hear Kier’s voice again, not like this, not after decades of burying that part of my life. The old me. The girl who fought for first place and dreamed of runways and sketches, not dirty floors and cold beds.