Emma’s POV

The next morning, I wake up before my alarm. My eyes burn from lack of sleep, but I force myself up. I sit at the edge of the bed for a moment, holding my head in my hands, and take a slow breath.

Today is going to be another long one. I can feel it.

I glance at the clock. 5:45 a.m.

Liam is still asleep in his room. His door is slightly open, and I can hear the steady rhythm of his breathing. I don’t want to wake him, so I keep quiet as I get ready. A black skirt and a plain white blouse. It’s all I have clean. I pull my hair back into a low ponytail and slip my feet into the only pair of black flats that aren’t falling apart—yet.

Before I leave, I write a quick note on the sticky pad and put it on the fridge for Liam.

Breakfast in the microwave. Call me if you need anything. Love you—Emma.

I hesitate for a second. Then I scribble a smiley face at the bottom and grab my bag.

The streets are mostly empty when I step outside. The cold morning air hits my face and stings my cheeks, but I welcome it. At least it helps me feel awake. I walk to the bus stop and sit on the metal bench, trying to stop my hands from shaking.

I’m nervous. Again.

I don’t know what’s waiting for me at work today. I never do. One minute I’m sitting behind a desk typing emails, the next I’m delivering sealed folders to men who watch me like I’m a piece of meat.

I pull out my phone and scroll through my messages. Nothing from Alexander yet. But that doesn’t mean anything.

The bus arrives ten minutes later, and I climb on. The ride to the office is quiet, just the hum of the engine and the occasional sound of someone coughing.

When I finally get to Cole Industries, I take a deep breath before walking inside.

Marissa is already at her desk when I pass by. She gives me a look—something between amusement and pity.

“You’re early,” she says, sipping her coffee.

“Couldn’t sleep,” I answer.

She raises an eyebrow. “You’ll get used to that.”

I keep walking without replying.

Alexander’s office is dark when I arrive. He’s not here yet. I sit at my desk outside his door and start going through my emails.

Ten minutes later, I hear footsteps. Heavy. Slow.

I look up, and there he is.

Alexander Cole.

He’s wearing another sharp suit, dark gray this time. His tie is straight, his hair perfect. He carries an air of power, like he’s the one in control of everything around him.

“Good morning,” I say.

He gives me a small nod and unlocks his office door. “Come in.”

I grab my notebook and follow him.

He walks to his desk and sets down his briefcase. Then he looks at me.

“We have an event tonight,” he says.

I blink. “An event?”

“A charity gala.” His voice is flat, like he’s talking about something as boring as filing paperwork. “You’re coming.”

I feel my stomach twist. “Why me?”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re my assistant.”

I grip my notebook tighter. “What do you need me to do?”

He walks around the desk and sits down in his chair, leaning back like he has all the time in the world. “Smile. Listen. Take notes.”

I stare at him. “That’s it?”

“For now.” He picks up a pen and taps it against his notebook. “Be ready at seven. Black dress. Nothing flashy.”

I nod, even though my chest feels tight. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” He glances at the clock. “We have a meeting at ten. Be ready.”

The rest of the morning is a blur. I print reports, answer calls, and file documents. At lunch, I eat a sandwich at my desk while going over his schedule.

Marissa passes by on her way out.

“You’re going to the gala?” she asks.

I look up from the planner. “How did you—”

“Everyone knows,” she interrupts, smiling faintly. “Good luck.”

I don’t know if she means it.

By the time six-thirty rolls around, I’m standing in front of the mirror in the women’s bathroom on the twenty-second floor, trying not to panic.

The black dress I bought two years ago for Liam’s school play fits… barely. I’ve done my makeup as best I can, which isn’t saying much. My hands shake a little when I try to put on mascara.

“You can do this,” I whisper to myself.

When I step out of the bathroom, Marissa is there. She looks me over, tilts her head, and says, “You clean up okay.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, not sure if it’s a compliment.

She leans in, lowering her voice. “Stay close to him. Don’t wander off. And don’t drink anything you didn’t see poured yourself.”

My heart skips. “Why?”

She smiles thinly. “It’s not the kind of crowd you trust.”

Alexander’s car is waiting out front. He holds the door open for me again, and I slide in, smoothing my dress over my knees.

“You look fine,” he says as he gets in next to me.

“Thanks,” I reply, my voice tight.

The drive is quiet. I stare out the window, watching the city lights blur by. My stomach churns, but I keep my face calm.

“We’re meeting William Grayson again,” Alexander says suddenly. “And a few others.”

I glance at him. “Anyone I should be worried about?”

He smirks. “Everyone.”

The gala is at the Carlton Hotel, in a ballroom bigger than any house I’ve ever been in. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling. There’s a red carpet. Cameras flash as people arrive.

Alexander doesn’t slow down. He walks like he owns the place. Maybe he does.

I stay close behind him, my heels clicking on the marble floor.

Inside, it’s all champagne glasses and quiet music. Men in suits, women in dresses that probably cost more than my yearly salary.

Alexander hands me a glass of sparkling water. I hold it tightly.

“Stay by me,” he says.

“I got that memo,” I reply.

He smirks again. “Good.”

William Grayson finds us quickly. He’s wearing a dark suit and a pale blue tie. He smiles when he sees me.

“Emma Carter,” he says. “You survived another day.”

“Barely,” I answer.

Alexander chuckles low in his throat, but there’s no warmth in it.

They talk business. I listen. Take mental notes. Grayson keeps glancing at me, like I’m part of the discussion.

“Do you know why you’re here?” Grayson asks me at one point.

“To assist Mr. Cole,” I say.

He tilts his head. “Is that what he told you?”

Alexander’s hand brushes my elbow. A silent warning. Or maybe reassurance. I’m not sure.

“Yes,” I say firmly.

Grayson’s smile sharpens. “Be careful, Emma. Everyone here wants something.”

“So do I,” I reply, surprising even myself.

He laughs, and it’s not a pleasant sound. “Good girl.”

Later, Alexander introduces me to other people. Men with hard eyes and women with sharp smiles.

One man, Mr. Dawes, shakes my hand too long. His grip tightens just enough to make my fingers hurt.

“You work for Cole?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say.

He leans closer. “That’s dangerous.”

Alexander steps between us. “We’re leaving.”

Dawes laughs but lets go of my hand. “See you soon.”

Outside, the air is cold and fresh. I breathe it in like I’ve been underwater too long.

Alexander watches me as the driver pulls the car around. “You did well,” he says.

“I smiled and nodded,” I reply.

“That’s half the battle,” he says.

“And the other half?” I ask.

He opens the car door. “Surviving."

We ride in silence again. I stare out the window, thinking.

“Why did you hire me?” I ask suddenly.

He glances at me. “You needed a job.”

“That’s not why,” I say.

He doesn’t answer. Just looks ahead.

When we reach my apartment, he steps out first and opens my door.

“Get some sleep,” he says.

I climb out slowly. “Are you always this vague?”

“Only when necessary,” he replies.

I start to walk away, but he stops me with a hand on my arm.

“Be careful who you trust, Emma,” he says.

I look at him. “Does that include you?”

His smile is unreadable. “Especially me.”

Upstairs, I check on Liam. He’s asleep, curled up under his blanket.

I sit on the couch, staring at the dark window.

My phone buzzes.

You did well tonight. - A. Cole

I type back: Thanks. I think.

Another message: We’re just getting started.

I set my phone down and rub my eyes.

Just getting started.

Great.