“Alright,” Professor Rashford said, closing his laptop. “That’s it for today. Read the Harris case for Wednesday and be prepared to discuss whether corporate restructuring can ever be truly ethical or if it’s just legalized theft with better PR.”
Students started packing up immediately, that familiar rustle of laptops closing and bags zipping. Someone knocked over a water bottle and it rolled down the aisle. A group near the door was already making plans for drinks later, their voices carrying across the room.
I took my time organizing my notes, letting the room clear out. I preferred anonymity here, where most students assumed I was a grad student or maybe a TA auditing for research purposes. No one knew my name and no one cared.
It was the most freedom I’d felt in years.
The lecture hall had that particular smell all classrooms seemed to have—old wood and whiteboard markers and coffeesomeone had spilled last week. Afternoon light came through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the rows of desks. Outside I could hear the campus coming alive between classes, voices and footsteps and that low hum of people constantly moving.
I liked it here. Liked being anonymous, being just another person trying to learn something. No board meetings, no investor calls, no careful navigation of corporate politics where every word mattered.
Just me, a notebook, and questions I still didn’t have answers for.
I gathered my things and headed for the door, already thinking about the nonprofit meeting I had later. We were working on a housing initiative for displaced tenants, trying to create pathways for people who’d been forced out of their neighborhoods by development projects.
Trying to fix problems my company had helped create.
The irony wasn’t lost on me.
I stepped into the hallway and nearly collided with someone rushing past.
The woman stopped short, her leather tote swinging forward with momentum. Annotated files spilled out, color-coded tabs and bright sticky notes marking important pages.
She wore practical slacks and a soft blouse with sleeves rolled to her elbows, dark hair pulled back in a braid coming loose from the day.
“Sorry,” I started to say, looking up—and my entire world stopped.
Dark braid. Expressive brown eyes. That same sharp, aware intelligence I remembered from three years ago—still completely captivating.
The woman from the terrace.
She looked up at me and I watched recognition hit her the same way it was hitting me, watched her eyes go wide and her lips part slightly in surprise.
For a second, neither of us moved. The hallway continued around us. Normal college chaos that suddenly felt very far away.
“Archie?”
My name came out uncertain, like she wasn’t sure she was remembering correctly.
“Gianna.”
I breathed her name back, and it felt like the first real thing I’d said in three years.
She was here. In law school. She’d actually done it.
Three years ago, I’d been at that hotel to handle business. A property acquisition that needed my signature, meetings that couldn’t wait even though I’d wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep for twelve hours straight.
I’d been tired and irritated and ready to leave when I’d run into Hector Valdez in the lobby.
We’d exchanged pleasantries, brief updates on mutual investments and upcoming projects. He’d mentioned celebrating something with his staff, and I’d been about to make my excuses and leave when I’d seen her.
She’d been standing near the private dining room, talking to an older woman who was clearly emotional about something. Then she’d said something that made the woman laugh through tears, this beautiful moment of connection I’d watched from across the lobby.
She’d been beautiful in a way that made me forget whatever I’d been thinking about.
Not just physically, though she was that too. Dark hair, expressive face, this presence that drew your attention and held it. But something about the way she carried herself, the wayshe’d smiled at the woman with such genuine warmth made me unable to look away.
I’d asked Hector who she was without meaning to, the question coming out before I could stop it.
