JANELLE CROSS

I swear, he took my breath away!

I was already regretting taking the job before I even made it to the elevator.

The guy at the front desk had asked me three times if I was “sure” I was meant to be here. I could have told him that nobody double-checked the rich with that same kind of suspicion. Just me, with my thrifted blazer, black curls tucked under a too-tight headwrap, and my name tag that said “Cross Catering.”

I didn’t belong here.

Still, I stepped into the elevator, box of hors d’oeuvres in one hand, my nerves packed tight in the other. The moment the doors closed, I took a deep breath. Then another.

I wasn’t here to network. I wasn’t here to flirt. I was here to work and get paid. That’s it.

The top floor of the ValeX headquarters was nothing like the grimy basement kitchens I usually cooked in. The whole rooftop sparkled… marble tile, crystal lights, music playing low from invisible speakers. A pool shimmered in the center, and high glass panels kept the cold wind from hitting your bones.

People in black suits and designer gowns moved like they were in a movie. Nobody looked stressed. Nobody looked tired. Nobody looked like they had rent due on Monday… nobody looked like Janelle Cross.

I adjusted my blazer, hoping the oil stain on the sleeve wasn’t visible.

“Excuse me,” I muttered, sliding past a group of laughing women in glittery heels. I made my way to the catering table, where Lisa, my only staff left, was already arranging skewers like art pieces.

“You’re late,” she whispered without looking up.

“I’m not late,” I replied. “I’m exactly on time.”

“Same thing up here,” she said.

I let it slide. This job was our last shot. After the several cancellations this month, Cross Catering was holding on by a thread… and by thread, I mean Lisa’s personal savings and my unpaid bills.

I moved to the edge of the table, adjusted a tray, and scanned the crowd. The rooftop smelled like gardenias and grilled salmon. There was a tension in the air I couldn’t name.

And then I saw him…

Grayson Vale.

He wasn’t surrounded by people, which was the first surprising thing. He stood alone by the edge of the pool, dark suit sharp enough to cut steel, face unreadable, drink untouched.

I didn’t even know how I recognized him. Maybe it was the way people kept glancing at him but didn’t approach. Maybe it was how still he was, like he didn’t need to move to own the whole place.

I didn’t mean to stare. But the moment I looked away, I felt his gaze on me.

My chest tightened.

“Stop staring,” Lisa whispered, elbowing me gently. “He’s probably married.”

“I wasn’t staring”

“Yes, you were.”

I turned, flushed, and busied myself with rearranging fruit. But that heat on the back of my neck didn’t fade.

About ten minutes later, while I was heading toward the indoor bar with an empty tray, I caught his eye again. This time, he was standing closer. Still alone. Still watching me.

He tilted his head slightly, as if confused. Or curious. I couldn’t tell which.

That should have been my cue to turn and walk away, but something held me still. Maybe it was the expression on his face. He didn’t look flirty or smug. He looked… puzzled. As if I reminded him of something he couldn’t name.

I was about to continue walking when he started toward me.

Crap.

I wasn’t dressed for a conversation with a billionaire. My lip gloss had long since faded, and my heels were the kind you could buy in bulk.

I turned quickly and ducked through the glass doors back into the main building. The hallway inside was quiet, cool, lined with minimalist art that probably cost more than my yearly rent.

I found an empty lounge and leaned against the wall, catching my breath.

Why was I panicking? It was just a man. A rich, handsome, completely-out-of-my-league man who stared at me like I was a puzzle piece he lost years ago.

I straightened, adjusted my headwrap, and told myself to get a grip. I wasn’t going to ruin this contract by acting weird.

I turned back toward the hallway… and nearly ran right into him.

“Sorry…” I said quickly, stepping back.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there, blocking the hallway like he had every right to do it. Maybe he did.

Up close, Grayson Vale looked even more expensive. His dark eyes were sharp but tired, and his jaw looked like it had forgotten how to smile.

“I didn’t mean to bump into you,” I said, trying to sidestep him.

But he didn’t move.

“What did you say your name was again?”

My breath hitched.

“I didn’t,” I replied carefully.

He narrowed his eyes.

There was something strange about the way he looked at me. Not like a man hitting on a woman. More like a man seeing a ghost.

“Why?” I asked. “Do I look familiar to you?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just kept looking at me, like he was peeling back layers only he could see.

Finally, he leaned in slightly and asked…

“Have we met before?”

His voice was low. Serious. Not flirty. Not polite. Just… intense.

And something inside me… something deep, buried… twitched like a warning.

I swallowed hard. “I don’t think so.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

Then he said softly, almost like to himself,

“You look exactly like her.”

My stomach dropped. “Like who?”

Before he could answer, his phone buzzed. He glanced at it, cursed under his breath, and stepped back.

“I’ll find you later,” he said. “Don’t leave.”

Then he turned and walked away.

I stood there, frozen, gripping my tray like a weapon.

I didn’t know who “her” was. I didn’t know what he meant.

But for some reason, I suddenly felt like my life wasn’t mine anymore.

And then I looked down.

At the corner of the tray I was holding, tucked under a napkin, was a folded photograph.

I hadn’t put it there.

I slowly pulled it out and unfolded it.

It was a woman. Standing by a beach. Same curls. Same eyes. Same scar on her collarbone.

She looked exactly like me.

But it wasn’t me.

It couldn’t be.