Rain drizzled on the bustling city streets that night, neon lights dimly reflecting on the wet pavement. I, Aisha, 26 years old, stood under the awning of a small cafe, watching people pass by with a heavy heart. That night, I made a mistake. A mistake I never thought I’d get involved in – a night with the man I both respected and feared: the CEO of Imperial Holdings, Vikram Singh. He was powerful, cold, and full of mystery, but his eyes that night seemed to burn through every boundary I had set.

I don’t remember exactly why I let things go so far. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe the loneliness within me, or maybe the way he looked at me, as if I were his whole world in that moment. All I knew was that the next morning, I woke up in his luxurious apartment, clothes scattered, and my heart filled with regret. I left before he woke up, without a word of explanation, without looking back.

Two months later, I discovered I was pregnant. A mix of joy and panic overwhelmed me. I knew the baby was his, but I didn’t have the courage to face him. Vikram Singh was not the kind of man a girl like me could aspire to. I was just an ordinary employee in his company, a grain of sand in the vast desert of the Imperial Holdings empire. So, I chose to flee. I submitted my resignation, without reason, without explanation, and booked a flight to London. There, I started over, raising my child alone in my womb, naming him Aryan.

Five years passed. Life in London wasn’t easy, but I tried my best. Aryan grew up healthy and intelligent, with bright eyes and a smile exactly like his father’s. Every time I looked at my child, I remembered Vikram, but I tried to bury the past. I worked at a small company, lived in a simple apartment, and gradually learned to love myself more. But deep down, I knew I couldn’t run forever.

The decision to return to India wasn’t easy. Partly because my mother was seriously ill, and partly because I wanted Aryan to know his homeland. As the plane landed at a major international airport in India, I felt a familiar wave of hot air. Aryan clutched my hand, his big round eyes eagerly looking at everything around him. I smiled, but a strange intuition swelled within me, as if something was waiting for me.

And then, I saw him. Vikram Singh, standing right at the exit gate, in a sharp black suit, his gaze cold but unable to hide its unwavering determination. He was still the same as before, no, perhaps even more captivating, with slight wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, like proof of the years gone by. My heart pounded erratically, but I tried to stay calm, pulling Aryan closer to me.
“You’ve run enough, Aisha,” he said, his voice deep but full of authority. “It’s time for me to be promoted and for my son to take over the empire.”

I was stunned, unable to believe my ears. He knew? When did he know? And why was he here, after five long years? Aryan looked up at me, then at the unfamiliar man, curious but not afraid.
“How… how did you know?” I stammered, trying to keep my voice steady.
Vikram stepped closer, his gaze softening as he looked at Aryan. “Did you think I would let you disappear without finding out why? Five years ago, when you suddenly resigned, I suspected something. I had someone keep an eye on you, Aisha. Not to control you, but because I couldn’t bear to lose you.”
His words struck my heart like a blow. I had thought I was invisible, that a man like him wouldn’t care about a small employee like me. But it turned out I was wrong.
“Then why didn’t you find me sooner?” I asked, my voice trembling. “Why did you leave me alone for five years?”
Vikram sighed, his gaze sweeping over Aryan before returning to me. “Because I wanted you to be free. I knew you were scared, knew you didn’t want to be bound by me or anyone. But Aisha, you can’t run from the truth that we have a child, and that I… have been waiting for you for a very long time.”
I was silent, mixed emotions surging. I wanted to scream, to blame him, but at the same time, a part of me felt the sincerity in his words. Aryan, as if sensing the tension, clutched my hand tighter.
“Who is this uncle, Mama?” the boy asked, his voice clear.
Before I could answer, Vikram knelt down, at Aryan’s eye level. “I am your father, Aryan. And I want to be with you, with your mother, if you agree.”
Aryan looked at him, then at me, his eyes sparkling as if trying to understand something profound. I felt tears welling up, but I held them back. This was not the time to be weak.

The following days were a series of surprises. Vikram didn’t force me to become a part of his world, but he was patient. He spent time playing with Aryan, telling him about grand dreams, about the skyscrapers that Imperial Holdings had built. He also found ways to draw