Reborn To Reclaim: The Boss Who Never Forgot

Isla POV We arrived at my apartment complex, a simple but safe neighbourhood. Ronan cut the engine and got out. I took a slow breath before following. I watched him as we climbed the stairs, trying to read him. He was blank and quiet, scrolling his phone while he waited for me to unlock the door like he had somewhere better to be. I didn't understand this man. I pushed the door open and we stepped inside. The apartment was quiet, evening light coming through the blinds in thin strips across the floor. I set Vivienne's tin of tea on the kitchen counter and exhaled slowly. I needed to go through it properly later. Check the ingredients. Check everything. I glanced at Ronan, waiting to see what he wanted. His hand caught my wrist. Hard. He pulled me back and pressed me against the wall before I could react, his body blocking mine completely. I froze, heart jumping into my throat. Then he kissed me. Not the way he usually did - distant, mechanical, something to be endured. This was different. Hard and bruising, his hand gripping my waist pulling me flush against him, his other hand cupping my face, his tongue pushing for access. He had never kissed me like this. In six years he had never once been the one to reach for me first. My stomach turned. These were the same lips. The same hands. The ones I had seen on my sister through a door left slightly open in another life. His fingers moved to my waistband. I shoved him. Both hands flat against his chest, hard enough that he stumbled back a step. He stood there breathing heavily, lips red, staring at me with an expression caught between shock and anger. "What's wrong with you?" he said. "I'm tired," I said. My voice came out steady. I pressed my hands flat against my thighs and held his gaze. Ronan's jaw tightened. He took one step closer and I made myself stay still. "What is wrong with you lately?" His voice dropped low and sharp. "I reach for you and you shove me away like I'm nothing." I said nothing. His face went red. "So who is he?" I stared at him. "What?" "You've been distant for weeks. Acting strange. He must be someone in that office of yours." "You're accusing me of cheating," I said quietly. "Am I wrong?" I said nothing. That was the wrong answer apparently. He laughed, short and humourless and stepped closer. "Nothing to say? That's interesting." I held my ground, trying to hide my lingering fear. "You've been walking around for past days like I don't exist." His voice was rising now. "Cold. Distant. Pushing me away tonight like I disgust you." He tilted his head. "So I'll ask again. Who is he." "There's no one," I said simply. "Then why are you acting like a completely different person?" he snapped. "The Isla I know doesn't push back. Doesn't talk back. Doesn't stand there looking at me like I'm beneath her." I didn't answer. And that was what angered him. His fist hit the wall beside my head. The sound cracked through the apartment. The hole on the wall too close to my face. I felt the impact of the plaster on my back. I didn't move. Didn't flinch. I kept my eyes on his face and said nothing. Something shifted in his expression; he had expected the usual tears and apologies from me. But I won't be giving him that any longer. "I don't know what you want me to say Ronan," I said quietly. He stared at me for a long moment. Then he grabbed his keys from the counter and walked out. The door slammed behind him hard enough to shake the frame photo beside it. The photo fell and hit the floor. I stood completely still for a few seconds. Then my legs became weak. I caught the counter with both hands and held on, my knuckles white against the marble. My whole body was shaking now - properly, uncontrollably, the kind of shaking I had been holding back since his hand first caught my wrist. I pressed my forehead to the cabinet and just breathed. He hadn't touched me. He hadn't touched me and I was still shaking like he had. I stayed like that until my legs felt like mine again. Then I straightened. Pushed my glasses up. Walked to where the photo had fallen and picked it up. The glass had shattered. I picked the photo out from the broken frame, careful of the shards. Ronan and I were smiling in it, it was from years ago, before we started dating, before I knew who he would become. I put the photo in the bin. Then I swept up the glass. I turned back to the counter and stood staring at Vivienne's tin. My phone buzzed. I picked it up with still-unsteady hands and opened the notification. A mandatory meeting. Lucian Vale and all department teams required to attend on Monday. I stared at the screen until my breathing evened out. That hadn't happened in my first life.