After I Become the CEO, My Heiress Ex Proposed to Me

Chapter 1

On the day of the university's centennial celebration, I stood by the side door of the auditorium, adjusting my tie with trembling fingers.

Seven years. I never thought I'd be back at my alma mater—much less as an honored alumnus.

"Vincent?"

That voice. It hit me like a live wire.

I turned, and there she was. Sophia Reynolds, gliding toward me in a champagne-colored gown, her heels silent on the marble floor.

She was even more stunning than I remembered. Porcelain skin, soft lighting catching the shimmer of her dress—but her almond-shaped eyes held the same glint I'd seen on that rainy night seven years ago.

"Long time," I said coolly, giving a nod and instinctively stepping half a pace back.

Then she grabbed my wrist. Her diamond ring pressed cold and sharp against my skin.

"I heard you'd be here," she whispered, her breath laced with the scent of roses. "So I switched my spot in the program."

She leaned in. "I've got a surprise for you."

When the house lights came up, I realized what she meant.

"…And finally, I want to thank one person in particular," Sophia said from center stage, under a glaring spotlight. Her eyes zeroed in on me, sitting in the last row.

"Seven years ago, we walked away because of a misunderstanding. But tonight, in front of everyone—"

She raised her left hand. The diamond ring caught the light like a blade.

"Vincent Wilson, will you marry me?"

The auditorium erupted.

Faculty and alumni in the front rows turned to whisper, while students in the back whooped and clapped.

I tightened my grip on my cue cards, nails biting into my palm.

Of course they cheered.

After all, the story of how I'd chased Sophia was practically legend in the design department.

For her birthday, I'd stayed up for three months building a detailed miniature model from scratch.

When I found out she liked stargazing, I spent half a year volunteering at the observatory—just to catch her eye.

But no one ever remembered what happened at graduation.

When my final project was accused of plagiarizing Justin Chambers', Sophia ripped up our collaborative contract right in front of the press.

"Vincent!"

Yvonne Walters appeared beside me, her eyes glassy with tears.

"Sophia never stopped thinking about you. Even after you humiliated her in front of the board, she never held it against you—"

I adjusted my cufflinks, the cold metal anchoring me.

On the screen behind the stage, a montage of the university's history rolled. A shot of the design department's exhibit flashed across it—my work, the scandal, the headlines.

"She begged the principal for hours to let you graduate," Yvonne cried. "She knelt in his office for three hours! Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

The crowd roared louder.

I looked up.

Sophia was still standing there, hand outstretched, ring glinting like it could blind.

How ironic. Seven years ago, she'd done the same thing—just in reverse. Cameras flashing, she stepped aside while I was buried under accusations and shame.

I remembered the winter of sophomore year. She had a fever of 103. I climbed the dorm wall just to bring her medicine—and broke my wrist in the process.

She showed up at the hospital in a down jacket, makeup streaked with tears. She held my cast and whispered, "Vincent, you'll never get rid of me."

And then Justin came along.

After that, she skipped our dates but never missed a single gala thrown by the Chambers Group.

The worst was Valentine's Day. I waited at the restaurant until closing. Later that night, I saw a photo of her and Justin, hands forming a heart on their flight to Paris.

"Vincent!" Sophia's voice cracked through the mic.

"I know you hate me, but can't you—"

The side door burst open.

Sunlight spilled into the room.

I stood up, the light behind me casting a long shadow down the aisle. My voice rang out clear and steady.

"Your memory's a little off, Ms. Reynolds," I said. "Seven years ago, you called dating a 'plagiarist' the biggest stain of your life."

I reached for my alumni badge and unpinned it.

"This belongs to you now."

The metal hit the red carpet with a dull clink.

I walked toward the open door, each step as deliberate as the night I left this school behind in the pouring rain, suitcase in hand.

Sophia's cry echoed behind me—but I didn't turn around.

The sunlight was too bright.

I raised a hand to block it—only to find my fingers were wet with tears.