Chapter 147 Heart-to-Heart, Since Forever

Robert's POV

Amanda disappeared through the door of the private tea room, leaving me alone with Diana for the first time in twenty years. The elegant space fell silent except for the distant murmur of mall shoppers. Diana stood frozen by the doorway, her face drained of color, looking like she might bolt any second.

"Diana, it's been a long time," I managed, my voice rougher than intended.

Her eyes darted toward the exit. "Indeed," she answered stiffly. "Do you... need something?"

Twenty years since I'd heard that voice directed at me. Twenty years of searching, wondering, and regretting. Now she stood before me, every bit as breathtaking as in my memories, yet distant as a stranger.

"Please, sit." I gestured to the chair across from me. My heart hammered against my ribs. "Just five minutes."

She hesitated, fingers clenching at her sides. Whatever Amanda had told her about this meeting, she clearly hadn't mentioned I would be here. The betrayal in her eyes stung, but I couldn't blame her. Our history was complicated, full of misunderstandings and pain.

Finally, she sat, perching on the edge of her chair like a bird ready to take flight.

"Would you like some tea?" I asked, reaching for the pot.

"No." She shook her head sharply, then caught herself. "Thank you."

Awkward silence hung between us. What do you say to someone who once knew your every thought, but now regards you as a stranger? Someone you've loved for decades despite everything?

"Your daughter arranged this," I started, meeting her eyes directly. "She seems to think we have unfinished business."

Diana's jaw tightened. "Amanda shouldn't have interfered. There's nothing left to discuss."

"Isn't there?" Twenty years of questions bubbled inside me. "You disappeared without a word, Diana. Twenty years without a single explanation."

Her eyes flashed with unexpected anger. "An explanation? You wanted an explanation after what happened at The Plaza?"

The mention of that night sent a familiar wave of confusion through me. Fragmented memories, a room spinning, then waking up beside a woman who wasn't Diana.

"I was drugged," I said quietly. "Whoever orchestrated that night wanted to drive us apart."

She stared at me, disbelief written across her features. "That's your excuse? After all this time?"

"It's not an excuse. It's what happened." Frustration crept into my voice. "I've spent twenty years trying to understand that night. To find you. To explain."

"Find me?" She laughed bitterly. "Robert Sterling, CEO of Sterling Enterprises, couldn't find someone if he wanted to? Don't insult my intelligence."

Her words cut deep. She didn't understand the lengths I'd gone to, the resources I'd exhausted trying to locate her after she vanished.

My thoughts drifted to Sophia as I absently checked the tea for mango—I'd been allergic since childhood, even a trace causing an uncomfortable rash. Sophia. My supposed daughter who'd shown up at my door five years ago with a DNA test, claiming her mother was that same woman from The Plaza.

The timing matched my travel records, and the DNA didn't lie. I'd accepted her as my responsibility, though the circumstances of her conception haunted me.

It had been the honorable thing to do—acknowledge my daughter, provide for her, welcome her into my life. But even as I gave Sophia the Sterling name, my heart remained fixed on finding Diana. My childhood sweetheart.

The only woman I'd ever truly loved. Every business trip, every medical conference, every charity event—I'd scanned faces in crowds, hoping to glimpse hers. For twenty years, I'd searched while fulfilling my obligation to Sophia.

"You covered your tracks well," I said, remembering the endless dead ends, the false leads. "Changed your name, moved constantly. Every time I got close, you disappeared again."

Something flickered across her face – surprise, perhaps. Had she truly believed I hadn't looked for her?

"Why would you search for me?" she asked, voice smaller now.

"Why wouldn't I?" The question seemed absurd. "Diana, we were going to be married. Then suddenly, after that night at The Plaza, you vanished. No goodbye, no explanation. Just... gone."

Her eyes dropped to her hands. "It wasn't that simple."

"Then explain it to me." I leaned forward, desperate for answers after all these years. "Please."

She took a deep breath, gathering herself. "The medical center..." she began hesitantly. "After what Gregory Freeman did—"

A cell phone rang, cutting through her words. Diana pulled it from her bag, checking the screen. "I have to take this," she said, standing abruptly.

"Diana, wait—"

"I'm sorry, Robert. I can't do this." She moved toward the door, phone still ringing.

Desperation pushed me forward. I caught her arm gently. "Diana, please. Twenty years. Don't walk away again."

She turned back, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Gregory Freeman isn't just some corrupt administrator. What's happening at Weill Cornell goes deeper than you know. It's not safe."

"We can face it together," I insisted. "Whatever it is, whatever happened – we can fix it."

Her phone continued ringing insistently. "I need to take this."

"Will you come back? After your call?"

She hesitated, then turned away without answering. The door closed behind her, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the cooling tea.

Five minutes stretched to ten. Through the door's window, I could see no sign of her in the corridor. Rising from my seat, I moved to the door and peered outside. The hallway stretched empty in both directions. She was gone.

The door opened suddenly. My head snapped up, hope surging – but it was Amanda, not Diana, who entered. Her expression confirmed what I already knew.

"She's gone," Amanda said, dropping into the chair her mother had vacated. "I'm sorry. This is my fault. I thought if I could just get you two in the same room..."

"It's not your fault," I assured her, though disappointment weighed on me like lead. "There's a history between us that runs deeper than you know."

Amanda nodded slowly. "She never talks about you, but sometimes I catch her looking at old photos. She still cares, Mr. Sterling."

The revelation brought little comfort. "Caring isn't enough, it seems."

"She's scared," Amanda said simply. "Not of you – of something else."

"Gregory Freeman," I guessed, watching her reaction closely.

Amanda's eyes widened slightly. "How did you know?"

"Your mother mentioned him. Thank you for trying," I told Amanda sincerely. "Even if it didn't go as planned."

She offered a small smile. "You're welcome. I just believe misunderstandings should be cleared up."

Looking at her earnest expression, a strange thought crossed my mind: If only she were my daughter instead of Sophia. The sincerity in her eyes, her thoughtfulness, the way she tried to repair what was broken—these qualities reminded me of Diana. A daughter like Amanda would have been a blessing.

I shook my head, dismissing the absurd notion immediately. What was I thinking? Smiling ruefully at my own foolishness, I gathered my coat.