Echoes Of Yesterday

Alexander didn't expect to enjoy Detroit.

He didn't expect to enjoy her either.

The city had once felt like a cage, a gilded legacy he hadn't chosen, a skyline built on expectations. But now, each day with Serena made it harder to remember why he had stayed away so long. She challenged him, teased him, and disarmed him without even trying.

But underneath it all, he could feel the storm building.

He was lying not just about his name, but about everything.

He wasn't Alex Ward from Zurich. He was Alexander Ford, son of William Clay Ford Jr., heir to a throne forged from horsepower, steel, and generational wealth.

And eventually, the lie would come due.

Monday morning began with frost between Serena and her mother.

"Did you read the invite I forwarded you?" Miranda Vale asked over coffee, tapping her tablet without looking up.

Serena took a slow sip of espresso. "The investor gala? Yes. I saw it."

"I confirmed your attendance. Damien Rothschild will be in town."

"I have a campaign deadline."

Miranda finally looked at her. "You also have an obligation. The Rothschild family holds a significant stake in Ford's European market expansion. Appearances matter."

"So do results. I'm running the branding team on the EV initiative, in case you've forgotten."

Miranda's tone softened but it only made it worse. "He's interested in you. And that's not something you can ignore, not when your future and the company's is in play."

Serena stood. "You mean your future. And his."

Miranda sighed. "Serena. One day, you'll thank me."

"I doubt it."

She walked out before her mother could say another word.

*****************

Damien Rothschild arrived like a storm in tailored cashmere.

British accent, white teeth, and a confidence so practiced it bordered on choreography. He swept into the building with two assistants and a private security detail. Everyone noticed. And everyone talked but Serena didn't care.

Until he showed up at her desk unannounced.

"Miss Vale," he said smoothly. "You look even more dazzling in person than you do on pitch decks."

She looked up slowly. "Mr. Rothschild. I thought you were scheduled to meet with corporate finance."

"I am. But I had to say hello to the woman who turned Ford's EV campaign into an international talking point. Brilliant, really."

"Flattery isn't a strategy."

"But it's a good opener, isn't it?"

He smiled and at that instant, Alexander stepped into view from the hallway, carrying a report.

Their eyes met, Alex's and Serena's and something invisible passed between them and Damien noticed.

"Friend of yours?" he asked, nodding in Alexander's direction.

"Consultant," Serena said curtly.

Damien grinned. "Interesting company you keep."

******************

That night, Alexander walked through the empty halls alone. He didn't like Rothschild. Not the smug smile. Not the quiet possessiveness in his voice when he said Serena's name. Not the fact that he had every approval and social expectation lined up in his favor.

Ford would benefit from a marriage like that.

So would Miranda.

But Serena?

She'd vanish inside it.

He reached the executive archive room, dimly lit and silent. A place his grandfather had once loved. There were old mock-ups of marketing campaigns, vintage advertisements, and photographs of board meetings dating back decades. Alexander stared at one framed image: his father and grandfather shaking hands with a young investor.

"Legacy," he whispered. "Or a prison?"

His phone buzzed. A text from his father.

William: Are you ready to step up, son? They're watching.

He locked the screen without answering.

********************

Two days later, Alex and Serena met again, in a moment that felt almost like fate.

She was standing on the rooftop of the Ford building, the wind tugging her coat open, eyes lost on the skyline. She didn't hear him at first as he stepped out from the stairwell. He hesitated, unsure whether to disturb her but she turned first.

"You ever feel like you're being pulled into someone else's life?" she asked.

He joined her. "All the time."

They stood in silence.

Then she said quietly, "He wants me to go to London."

"Rothschild?"

She nodded. "Joint campaign initiative. Partnership pitch. Miranda's thrilled."

He said nothing.

She glanced at him. "What would you do?"

"I'd ask myself if I'm going for the project or for the person."

She looked away. "What if it's neither?"

"Then don't go."

"But if I don't go, I'll be replaced."

"By who?"

"Someone who plays the game better than me."

Alex turned toward her fully. "I've seen how you work. No one plays it better than you. They just don't like that you don't play it their way."

Her breath caught.

"Who are you really, Alex?" she asked.

He hesitated, then smiled softly. "Someone who's starting to wish he weren't lying to you."

She blinked. "What does that mean?"

But he didn't answer.

He just walked away.

********************

The gala was a glittering cage.

High ceilings, soft lighting, strings of violins playing over the hum of old money and polished ambition. Serena walked in beside Damien, dressed in deep emerald silk that clung to her like smoke. Cameras flashed. Hands reached. Champagne flowed.

Alexander stood in the shadows of the upper balcony, watching. Hidden. Tortured.

He hadn't planned to come but he had to see it. He had to see her.

She moved like she belonged but her eyes kept flicking toward the stairs, the corners, the exits.

And once, they landed on him.

Their gaze held.

Just long enough.

Then she looked away.

********************

Backstage, Miranda and Damien's father, Mr. Rothschild, laughed over projections. Ford stock was steady. Rothschild capital was rising. Serena was the perfect accessory.

And Alex realized something then,

They weren't just trying to steal her future rather they were trying to rewrite her future.

********************

Later that night, when the ballroom dimmed and the string quartet gave way to a quiet jazz trio, Alexander found her again, outside and alone.

She stood at the edge of the fountain, arms bare in the cool air, hair pinned like a sculpture.

"I wasn't sure you'd come," she said without turning.

"I wasn't sure either."

"You look uncomfortable."

"This world doesn't feel like mine anymore."

Alex said with traces of forlorn hiding in his voice and Serena turned to face him. "But it is, isn't it?"

He swallowed. "Parts of it."

They stood there, closer than they should've been, the hum of music just far enough to feel unreal.

"Tell me the truth, Alex," she said. "Whatever it is. I can take it."

He looked at her deep enough and the words almost came out.

But then the doors swung open behind them. Damien called her name and the moment shattered.