Becoming A Tech Tycoon Begins With Regression novel Chapter 22

Chapter 22: Isabela Pérez

Atlanta’s Sunday traffic was surprisingly light, an unusual blessing for a city infamous for gridlocks, especially at this hour.

Ethan’s Audi sped smoothly across the open lanes, the buildings blurring past him as he drove.

He kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting against the armrest. He enjoyed the low hum of his car’s engine and the occasional whooshing of passing signs.

He took a quick glance at the time, noting that it was still 8:43 AM, which meant he was still on schedule.

The airport was only fifteen minutes away, maybe ten at his current speed so Ethan wasn’t too bothered about being late.

The only thing bothering him right now was the fact that he wasn’t sure he clearly remembered what Isabela looked like but that was soon solved when his phone let out a ding.

He reached for his phone in the center console and glanced at the screen for just a second—long enough to read:

María: Here’s a picture Incase you forgot what she looks like.

Attached was a photo.

Ethan tapped it open with one thumb at a red light just before the final exit ramp.

Isabela Pérez stood in front of a stone fountain, suitcase beside her, one hand casually tucked into the pocket of her oversized black hoodie.

She had Short Auburn hair with gray eyes that rested behind a pair of round glasses. She had a soft smile on her face as she looked directly at the camera.

But her smile made it seem like someone had forced her to take the picture.

"Introvert," was the first thing that came to mind as Ethan saw the picture.

In his original timeline, he’d refused to host her, assuming she’d be too much trouble—but looking at the image now, she didn’t look like trouble at all. If anything, she looked like someone who preferred quiet corners and books over anything remotely chaotic.

Ethan stared at the photo a moment longer, committing the features to memory before putting the phone back on the console and continued driving as the light had turned green.

A few minutes later, he pulled into short-term parking at Hartsfield–Jackson and found a spot close to the terminal entrance.

He shut the engine off and stepped out, locking the doors with a soft beep as he adjusted his jacket and slid his phone into his pocket before walking into the airport.

Ethan checked the arrivals board.

Flight 191 — LANDED — Terminal T.

Right on time.

He made his way to the arrivals section and stood near the rail, his hands in his pockects as he scanned through the slow trickle of passengers stepping through the wide glass doors.

It didn’t take long to spot Isabela the moment she stepped out. She looked exactly like the photo María had sent, short auburn hair tucked neatly behind her ears, round glasses slipping slightly down her nose, and the same oversized black hoodie that she wore in the picture.

He realized that she might have taken the photo just before she left.

She clutched the same navy-blue suitcase from the photo, her eyes scanning the crowd with visible unease. It was clear she wasn’t comfortable being around this many people.

Ethan raised a hand in a casual wave.

Isabela’s eyes paused on him. A brief flicker of recognition crossed her face, followed by the smallest of nods. She walked toward him, her pace steady but without urgency.

"Isabela Pérez?" Ethan asked, just to be polite.

"Yeah," she replied, her voice soft but clear.

"I’m Ethan," he said. "María sent me."

"I figured," she murmured, glancing at his outfit then, subtly, at his watch. Her gaze flicked back up just as fast. "You’re early."

"María would have my head otherwise," Ethan said with a chuckle before reaching for her suitcase handle. "I’ll get that."

"I can—"

"I know," he interrupted gently, "but let me."

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