My Ex Is My Boss Now And He Hasn’t Forgotten Anything

We broke up five years ago.
Now he signs my paycheck.
And every time he calls me “Miss Ade,”
I hear the anger he never said out loud…

They say time heals everything.
I believed it—until I saw him again.

Until I walked into the boardroom of my dream job and saw the man I ghosted five years ago…
sitting at the head of the table,
in a tailored navy blue suit,
smirking with the same calm fury that used to haunt my dreams.

His name is Lanre.

Once, he was my everything.

Now, he’s my boss.

And I think he wants revenge.

It was never supposed to be like this.

Five years ago, I ended our relationship with a single message.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore. Please don’t call.”

I blocked him immediately. Changed my number. Switched cities.
Not because I hated him… but because I was scared.
Not of him—he was gentle. Loving. Too loving.

I was scared of myself.
Of how much I depended on him.
Of how much he wanted to marry me when I wasn’t ready.
Of how much he saw a future, while I saw only fear.

I didn’t want to explain.
So I vanished.

Now, five years later, I’m 29 and tired of running. I want to rebuild my life.

When I landed the job at Crest Capital, I thought it was a miracle.
One of the top financial firms in the country.
A chance to finally live the life I thought I’d thrown away.

Until the glass doors slid open on my first day…
and I saw him.

Lanre.

Older. Colder.
More powerful than ever.

His eyes locked on mine.

He didn’t flinch.

He didn’t even smile.

He just said:

“Miss Ade… we’ve been expecting you.”

That was three months ago.

Since then, I’ve tried to keep things professional.
He hasn’t mentioned our past.
But it leaks into everything.

Into how he assigns me the most difficult projects.
Into how he corrects me in front of the entire team.
Into how he calls me “Miss Ade” with venom wrapped in velvet.

The other staff think he’s hard on me because I’m new.

I know better.

He remembers everything.

Last Friday, he called me into his office.

The air was ice.

He didn’t look up from his desk as he spoke.

“We’re flying to Abuja for the investors’ summit. You’ll assist me directly.”

I swallowed.

“Sir, there are senior associates—”

He looked up. His stare was fire.

“You have a problem, Miss Ade?”

I shook my head. “No, sir.”

The flight was silent.

The hotel lobby buzzed with executives.

I tried to stay behind him, unnoticed.

But at dinner, with partners from Dubai and London seated around us, Lanre turned to me and said:

“Tell them, Miss Ade…
why you believe loyalty is the most undervalued asset in business.”

The table went quiet.

He was smiling—but his eyes burned.

I knew what he meant.

I felt my stomach twist.

That night, in my room, I couldn’t sleep.

At 2:13 AM, I heard a knock.

My heart stopped.

I opened the door… and there he was.

Lanre.

Tie loosened. Sleeves rolled up.
A storm behind his calm expression.

“May I come in?”

I froze.

But I stepped aside.

He walked in slowly.

Looked around.

Then turned to me and asked the question I knew was coming.

“Why did you do it?”

I looked at him. Really looked.

The man I once loved.
Who used to hold my face like it was a treasure.
Who wrote me poems he never shared.
Who told me, “You are not hard to love. You just need someone who won’t run.”

And I did the one thing I promised myself I wouldn’t do.

I cried.