Not an excuse.

KATIE

The moment I stepped into the apartment, the sharp creak of the door gave me away. It was late already since I had to try my luck at some other places after excusing myself from Volkov. Before I could even shut the door behind me, Maria was already flying out of the kitchen. She looked worried and frustrated.

“Katie!” she exclaimed, her hands flying to her hips. “Where have you been all day? I’ve been calling and texting you like a madwoman! You didn’t even say where you were going!”

I sighed, dropping my bag on the mini table at the center of the sitting room . “My battery died. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“That’s not good enough,” she snapped. “You disappeared. You didn’t leave a note, a message...nothing. What if something had happened to you, huh? What was I supposed to tell the cops? That my best friend who just walked out of a complicated marriage and defied one of the richest men in the country just vanished? I'll be the very first suspect.”

I blinked, taken aback by the intensity of her concern. “Maria, come on… what could possibly happen to me?”

She stared at me like I had grown two heads. “Are you serious right now? Katie, you’ve made enemies. You’ve pissed off people who don’t like being crossed while you were still in the business world. And even if you hadn’t, this city isn’t exactly a fairy tale. Anything can happen. You can’t just walk out and disappear all day without saying anything. You’re not bulletproof.”

The guilt crept in, slow and heavy. I slumped onto the worn-out sofa with a sigh, dragging a pillow onto my lap.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered.

Maria crossed her arms, still watching me with a frown etched deep into her forehead. “Just… next time, tell me something. Anything. Leave a note, share a location. I was this close to calling the hospitals.”

“I didn’t think it would get that serious,” I murmured, staring at the kitchen tools Maria was holding. “I just needed to try something.”

Maria sat across from me, her eyes softening as she reached for my hand. “So? Where did you go?”

I leaned back and let the entire story pour out of me.

I told her about dressing up and heading to the bank, thinking I could pull something together—maybe get a loan using the little leverage I had left. How each bank treated me like I was invisible, how the bank manager even flung a newspaper across the desk with my father’s disownment making the front page like some dramatic scandal. How I tried again and again, hoping one would see me and not the name I no longer had.

I told her how I’d finally sat down on a bench outside, trying to stop the spinning in my head. How Volkov Stuart cane to a halt in front of me while I was in deep thought about my life. How he drove me to that restaurant, ordered my favorite meal without asking, and how we talked like old acquaintances before...

Maria’s brow arched like she just processed my words. “Volkov? Volkov Stuart? The playboy heir to the Suttas empire?”

“The one and only,” I muttered, rubbing my temple.

“And what does he want from you?”

I let out a breath. “He offered me a job.”

Maria’s eyes widened. “Wait—what?”

“His PA. With a condition.”

“What kind of condition?” she paused. “Don’t tell me...” she trailed off.

I nodded. “That I don’t get to say no… to anything he asks.”

Maria’s mouth dropped open. “I knew it. That sounds like a trap.”

“I know,” I said, pulling the pillow tighter to my chest. “But I don’t exactly have other offers raining down on me, Maria. I have nothing left. And right now… it might be my only way forward.”

She was quiet for a moment, eyes searching mine. Then, in a much softer voice, she said, “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

I leaned my head back against the cushion, letting out a deep breath that felt like it had been stuck in my chest all day. “Honestly, Maria… I have no intention of taking Volkov’s offer.”

She raised a brow, arms folded across her chest as she sank into the single chair opposite me. “You don’t? But you just said you had no other options.”

“I don’t,” I admitted quietly. “But that doesn’t mean I should sell my freedom to him. The way he said it… that condition—not saying no to anything—it didn’t sit right with me. It sounded like a trap, hidden behind a charming smile and expensive suits.”

Maria let out a low whistle. “Well, you’re not wrong there. Not even with his antics when you had everything. Imagine what games he's going to play now that all these have happened.”

“I just…” I paused, unsure how to say it out loud. “I need to figure this out on my own. I’m going to look for a job. Nothing fancy, just something that can keep me afloat. I’ll save little by little. Maybe someday, I can start a small business of my own. I mean, I know how to manage people, I know how to organize things. I’ve been at the forefront of enough meetings to understand how the system works. I just need… a chance.”

Maria stared at me for a long moment, listening to all I had to say as usual. “Katie, that could take years.”

“I know,” I whispered. Then I gave her a tired, almost defeated smile. “But what other choice do I have? I don’t have my name anymore. The Malory prestige? Gone. The wealth? Not mine to claim. And I refuse to jump from one leash to another just to survive.”

She didn’t respond at first, just looked at me with concern and something else… maybe pride. Then she finally sighed and shook her head. “You’re stubborn.”

“Maybe,” I said with a shrug. “But this time, I’m being stubborn for me.”

Her lips tugged into a small smile. “Alright. Then we’ll figure it out step by step. I’ve got your back on whatever you decide.”

Tears stung the corners of my eyes, and I quickly blinked them away. “Thank you,” I whispered.

She moved closer to me this time, patting my back gently. “There’s no need for tears, Katie.” she cooed.

But it feels like the tears can't stop pouring. Maybe her sympathy....something about the way she consoled me made me tear up the more.

She wiped my cheeks with her thumb, offering me a small smile. “Enough tears, young lady.”

I raised my head to glance at her. Whenever she calls me little lady, she's up to something mischievous.

“Why don't we go for a drink?” she winked.

“Oh no! I don't think I—”

She stood, not sparing me another glance. “No excuses, woman. Get ready.”