From Poor Boy To CEO: We Fall In Love Again

Vincent, Kate's first love, had left the country years ago, and they lost touch.

But now, Vincent was back.

The phone rang sharply, and I saw it was Logan calling.

I rubbed my temples and answered.

"Clark, something's gone wrong. Check the trending topics!" Logan's voice was fraught with urgency.

I quickly opened the trending section, and the top headline read: [Superstar Kate Spotted with Former Lover.]

The accompanying photo confirmed it.

Vincent was blurred out, but Kate's drunken face was crystal clear.

A sharp pang of discomfort hit me.

"What do we do, Clark?" Logan's voice was almost frantic.

"Put Kate on the line."

I had planned what to say, but when I heard Kate's voice, my confidence wavered.

"What's your plan?" I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral, hoping to defuse the tension between us.

There was a pause on the other end.

"We can't let Vincent be exposed. He's just back at the Moore Group and hasn't established himself yet."

I struggled to keep my voice steady, my heart racing. "So, you want to take the blame for everything yourself?"

Kate's response was barely a whisper. "Yes."

My mind went blank, and my lips trembled with anger.

I shouted, "Is Vincent really that important to you?

"Important enough to throw away ten years of hard work?

"Or is our future just meaningless to you?"

Kate seemed taken aback by my outburst, her voice trembling as she responded, "Clark, you're yelling at me!"

Realizing I'd lost my composure, I tried to calm down.

"I'm sorry, Kate. I didn't mean to..."

But she had already hung up.

I was left seething with frustration. In ten years, had I ever spoken to her like that before? Nope.

A memory surfaced—an online post I had seen while trying to clean up some negative press.

It was about Kate and Vincent's ten-year promise.

The post claimed that Vincent and Kate were childhood sweethearts who had been forced apart—one going abroad, the other pursuing a career in entertainment. They had set a ten-year deadline to meet again at the top of their respective fields.

I felt a knot in my chest.

I thought, "If that's the case, where do I fit into this? Have all my efforts over the past decade been just to set her up with Vincent?"

I recalled the early days—when Kate, struggling, danced in a sweltering studio while I sat on the floor, making calls to find her work.

We had shared a bottle of water and an ice cream.

At the end, she had shyly said, "Clark, you're so great. Let's be together. I'll make sure to win all the awards for you and prove you're the best manager. We'll announce it then."

But as her career soared, she became increasingly entangled in complexities, and the rifts between us grew wider.

I finally realized that I could no longer keep up with her.