The Morrison estate looks exactly the same as it did seven years ago when I drove away and never looked back. Well, almost never. I grip the steering wheel of my rental car, staring at the sprawling colonial mansion through the iron gates. Every window glows with warm light, and I can see silhouettes moving inside—the family gathering for New Year's Eve dinner. The family I left behind. My phone buzzes. Another text from Patricia Morrison, the woman who took me in when I was sixteen after my parents died. *Maya, sweetheart, where are you? Dinner starts in twenty minutes. We've missed you so much.* Guilt twists in my stomach. Patricia has been nothing but kind to me, treating me like her own daughter from the moment I moved into this house twelve years ago. She doesn't deserve the way I've avoided her calls, made excuses to skip holidays, kept my distance for seven long years. But she also doesn't know the real reason I left. I take a deep breath and press the call button on the gate intercom. A crackling voice answers, and moments later, the gates swing open. There's no turning back now. As I pull up the circular driveway, the front door opens, and Patricia rushes out despite the winter cold. She's aged gracefully, her blonde hair now streaked with silver, but her smile is as warm as ever. "Maya!" She pulls me into a tight embrace the moment I step out of the car. "Oh, my dear girl, let me look at you. You're absolutely stunning." I've changed since I left at twenty-one. Built a career in Seattle as a marketing consultant, learned to stand on my own, cut my dark hair into a sleek bob that makes me look more sophisticated than the lost girl who once lived here. But standing in front of this house, I feel sixteen again—vulnerable and desperately trying to hide feelings I shouldn't have. "It's good to see you, Patricia." I mean it, even though my heart is hammering against my ribs. "Come inside, come inside! Everyone's here. Richard is opening champagne, and—" She pauses, her hand on my arm. "Lucas came too. I wasn't sure he would, with his schedule, but he made it." There it is. The name that's haunted me for seven years. Lucas Morrison. Patricia and Richard's biological son. My adoptive brother. The man I've been in love with since I was eighteen years old. "That's... that's great," I manage, my voice steadier than I feel. Patricia doesn't notice my reaction. She's already pulling me toward the house, chattering about the menu and how the cook has prepared all my favorite dishes. I let her words wash over me as we step inside, the familiar scent of pine and cinnamon hitting me immediately. The entryway is decorated for the holidays—garland wrapped around the banister, a massive Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, twinkling lights everywhere. It's picture-perfect, just like always. The Morrisons excel at maintaining appearances. "Maya's here!" Patricia announces as we enter the formal dining room. Richard Morrison stands at the head of the table, distinguished in his navy suit, his salt-and-pepper hair perfectly styled. He gives me a genuine smile and comes around to kiss my cheek. "Welcome home, Maya. It's been too long." Home. The word stings because this place hasn't felt like home since the night I realized I wanted Lucas in ways that had nothing to do with family. "Thank you for having me," I say automatically. And then I see him. Lucas stands by the fireplace, a glass of whiskey in his hand, and every carefully constructed wall I've built over seven years threatens to crumble. He's thirty-five now, and the years have been devastatingly kind to him. He's broader through the shoulders, his dark hair slightly longer than he used to wear it, and there's a hardness to his jaw that wasn't there before. He's wearing a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up, revealing forearms that I have no business noticing. His green eyes lock onto mine, and the air leaves my lungs. "Maya." His voice is deeper than I remember, rougher. "Lucas." The tension between us is immediate and suffocating. I wonder if anyone else can feel it—this electric charge that makes my skin prickle and my pulse race. "You two haven't seen each other in ages!" Patricia says brightly, oblivious. "Lucas, doesn't she look wonderful?" His gaze travels over me slowly, deliberately, and I feel it like a physical touch. "She does." Two words. That's all it takes for heat to pool low in my belly. This is why I stayed away. This is why I couldn't come back. "Well, let's sit down to dinner," Richard says, gesturing to the table. "We have much to celebrate tonight." I end up seated directly across from Lucas, which feels like some kind of cosmic joke. Throughout the first course, I can feel his eyes on me even when I'm not looking at him. Every time I glance up, he's watching me with an intensity that makes me want to squirm—or lean across the table and kiss him until neither of us can breathe. God, I'm a terrible person. "So, Maya," Richard says, pulling my attention away from dangerous thoughts. "Patricia tells me your consulting business is doing very well." I nod, grateful for the distraction. "Yes, we've expanded to three offices now. It's been challenging but rewarding." "She's being modest," Patricia adds. "She was featured in Forbes last month!" "Impressive," Lucas says, his voice carrying an edge I can't quite identify. "You always were ambitious." Is that admiration or criticism? With Lucas, it's hard to tell. "Someone had to be," I reply, meeting his gaze directly. "Not all of us can inherit a Fortune 500 company." His lips quirk into something that's not quite a smile. "No, some of us have to actually work for what we have." "Lucas," Patricia says with a slight frown. "I'm just making an observation," he says smoothly, but his eyes never leave mine. "Maya clearly doesn't need anyone's help anymore. She's made that abundantly clear over the past seven years." The barb hits its mark. He's angry that I left, that I cut contact, that I built a life that didn't include any of them. If only he knew why. "I think," Richard interrupts, standing with his champagne glass, "this is the perfect time for my announcement." Patricia's face lights up, and I realize she knows what's coming. Lucas and I both turn our attention to Richard, though I can still feel the weight of Lucas's presence across from me. "As you all know, I'll be seventy next year," Richard begins. "It's time for me to start thinking about succession planning for Morrison Industries. I've built this company over four decades, and I want to ensure it continues to thrive for generations to come." I have a sinking feeling about where this is going. "Lucas, you've proven yourself as COO over the past five years. You have the vision and drive to lead this company into the future." Richard pauses, looking at me. "And Maya, despite your absence from our family gatherings, you've built an impressive career in strategic consulting. Your outside perspective and expertise are exactly what Morrison Industries needs during this transition." No. No, no, no. "I'm appointing both of you as co-heads of the succession transition team," Richard continues. "Over the next six months, you'll work together to restructure the company, prepare for the leadership change, and ensure a smooth handover. Maya, I'm asking you to relocate to Boston temporarily to oversee this project." The room spins. Six months. Working with Lucas. Living in the same city. Possibly even working in close quarters every single day. "Richard, I don't think—" I start. "I'll triple your usual consulting fee," he says with a knowing smile. "And provide housing, of course. The penthouse at the Residences is available." It's a generous offer. More than generous. And turning it down would require an explanation I can't give. I look at Lucas. His jaw is tight, his knuckles white around his champagne glass. He's not happy about this either, which should be a relief but somehow makes it worse. "When would this start?" I hear myself ask. "January second," Richard says. "I know it's short notice, but I want to hit the ground running in the new year." Three days. I have three days before my carefully constructed life collides with the man I've spent seven years trying to forget.