Isabella’s POV

I stood frozen, clutching my cracked phone in one hand and my jacket tight with the other. My chest tightened with confusion. Who was this man that could make an entire building tremble with two words?

And then I heard it, the sharp, deliberate click of polished shoes against marble flooring. The sound echoed through the lobby, commanding attention without a single word spoken.

My stomach dropped. Everyone else bowed their heads slightly, pretending to be busy, but stealing glances toward the entrance.

The sharp rhythm of the steps grew louder, closer, until he appeared at the glass doors like a shadow cut out from the morning light.

The first thing I noticed were his shoes black, polished so perfectly I swear I could see my own stunned reflection staring back at me. Each step was measured, steady, carrying an authority that silenced the entire lobby.

My gaze betrayed me, climbing higher. His suit charcoal gray, tailored with such precision it looked like it had been sewn directly onto his body. Not a single crease, not a thread out of place. It spoke of wealth, of power, of someone who didn’t just walk into rooms…he owned them.

And then my eyes reached his face. A strong, chiseled jaw. Smooth skin kissed by the faintest stubble, like marble carved to perfection. Lips pressed into a line, firm yet tempting. And his eyes…Ocean blue. Cold and deep, with a pull that felt both gentle and dangerous at once. They flicked across the room, assessing, commanding, stripping the air of oxygen wherever they landed.

The same piercing shade I had looked into through a blur of tears. Recognition slammed into me, stealing the ground beneath my feet. It was him, the stranger who had wordlessly handed me a handkerchief.

My fingers instinctively brushed my jacket pocket where the folded fabric still rested, like a secret talisman I carried with me.

I shouldn’t be here. I didn’t belong here. Quietly, carefully, I turned toward the glass doors, hoping to slip out before anyone noticed.

If I could just reach the street…BAM!

I stumbled hard into someone, and the sound of papers crashing against the marble floor echoed like thunder. Files scattered everywhere, slipping across the polished tiles like leaves in the wind.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” the man barked, glaring at me as though I had ruined his entire life. “Who even are you?”

Heat flooded my cheeks. My lips trembled.

“I…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

Before I could finish, a familiar sharp voice cut in. Claire the woman from earlier. She crossed her arms and sneered.

“Oh, her again. She’s just some beggar girl looking for a job that does not exist. Can’t you see she doesn’t belong here? Look at her.”

A thousand invisible eyes burned into me. My throat tightened, my voice cracked as I bent down, scrambling to gather the scattered papers.

“I…I’m really sorry, I’m sorry…” I whispered, again and again, my fingers shaking. My vision blurred. Hot tears threatened to spill, but I bit them back, forcing a broken smile.

“That’s enough.”

The deep, commanding voice cut through the humiliation like a blade. The lobby fell silent. My heart stopped. He was standing there. His ocean blue eyes fixed directly on me.

I swallowed hard, clutching my bag against me, then hurried out of the building.

The cold morning air stung my face as I stepped onto the busy street. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. Humiliation clung to me like a second skin. How could I have embarrassed myself like that?

I walked without direction, the city blurring around me. Eventually, I found myself on a bench near the bus stop. My legs felt like lead, my heart heavy.

Then my phone buzzed. I pulled it from my pocket, and my chest tightened when I saw the name flashing on the screen: Nathan.

For a heartbeat, I just stared at it. My chest tightened, memories crashing over me like waves. I squeezed the phone until my knuckles went white. My throat burned. Without hesitation, I slid my finger across the screen. Block.

I drew in a shaky breath, clutching my bag tighter. My eyes stung, my heart felt like a thousand needles piercing through it.

With trembling hands, I unlocked my phone and scrolled through endless listings: coffee shops, diners, housekeeping, most of them already expired or requiring “experience” I didn’t have. I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood, fighting the hopelessness clawing at my chest.

“Should I just swallow my pride and beg Marta?” I whispered under my breath.

The rumble of an engine made me look up. A sleek black car drove past me, its tinted windows reflecting the morning light. I barely spared it a glance, rich people’s cars were always flying by in this part of town.

But then it slowed and reversed. My breath caught in my throat. The car stopped right in front of me, the glossy paint shimmering like liquid ink.

My heart thudded in my chest as the driver’s window began to lower slowly.

And there he was the man from the other day, the one who had pressed the handkerchief into my hand without a word. His ocean blue eyes locked on mine with the same intensity, calm yet unnervingly sharp, like he could read every secret I tried so hard to bury.

Only now I knew who he was, the CEO of Rothwell Corporation.

The sleek car purred softly, its window half rolled down, his piercing gaze fixed on me like a spotlight I couldn’t escape from. Then, without a single word, he lifted his hand and gave the smallest gesture. A beckon. A command. As if I were some stray dog he expected to heel.

Heat crawled up my neck, shame and anger tangled in my chest. My lips trembled, my legs rooted to the pavement. What could a man like him possibly want with me?

For a moment, neither of us moved. His ocean blue eyes held mine from behind the tinted glass, steady, unblinking, a silent challenge I didn’t understand. My chest rose and fell with shaky breaths as I stared right back, refusing to look away first.

Seconds stretched like hours. I knew I should walk away, pretend I hadn’t seen him, but my legs betrayed me. My pride wanted to win, to prove I wasn’t some stray waiting for scraps. Yet something in his gaze pinned me down, commanding, magnetic.

Finally, with a reluctant sigh, I forced my feet forward, each step dragging like lead. I hated the way his lips curved just slightly as if he knew he had won.

He leaned back in his leather seat, eyes narrowed on me as though I were nothing but a nuisance taking up his time.

“I need a maid,” he said flatly, pulling a sleek black card from the inside of his jacket. He held it out carelessly, like he was tossing scraps to a beggar.

“If you want the job, come to this address.”

My eyes darted from the sleek black card in his hand to his face.

“Maid?” I repeated, the word tasting sour on my tongue.

“What happened to housekeeper?” his lips twitched not quite a smile, not quite mockery, something in between.

“Call it whatever makes you sleep better at night. The job doesn’t change.”

His voice was velvet wrapped around steel, smooth and dangerous.

I wanted to throw the card back at him, to tell him I wasn’t some stray he could summon with a snap of his fingers. But my fingers betrayed me, curling around the card as though it were the last lifeline I’d ever get.

He watched me, unblinking, his ocean blue eyes cutting straight through me. Then, with the slightest lift of his chin, he dismissed me as if I were nothing more than an afterthought. The window hummed back up, shutting me out, leaving me standing there on the curb with my pride in pieces and his card burning a hole in my palm.

I let out a shaky breath, my heart pounding. What the hell just happened?