The Collision

Emma's POV

I arrived at work that morning with my heart already racing.

All night, I had stared at my phone screen. I kept reading and re-reading that text about my work shift at Pinnacle Sports Management. The same building where Jake Sullivan would be meeting with Portuguese business partners today. The same building where I would be scrubbing floors while the father of my child made business deals just floors above me.

I had barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face from the television screen. I heard his voice saying he needed a fresh start in Portugal. My Portugal.

By 6 AM, I was already at the building. I was hoping to finish most of my work before Jake arrived. The lobby felt different today. There was tension in the air, like everyone knew something important was happening. Security guards stood at entrances I had never seen them guard before. Expensive cars were already lining the parking lot.

I was on my hands and knees scrubbing the marble floor when I heard the sharp click of expensive heels behind me. My stomach dropped. Linda Hayes, the owner's spoiled daughter, was walking toward me with that familiar look of disgust on her perfectly made-up face.

Without warning, she dumped a bag of trash right next to me. Some of it spilled onto the floor I had just cleaned.

I sat back on my heels, staring at the mess in disbelief. I said "What the hell? I am not a trash can!"

Linda's eyes flashed with cruel pleasure. She said "If I were you, I would not talk back to me. I am the daughter of the owner of this place, and you had better remember that. One word from me and my father will fire you faster than you can blink. He does everything I ask him to do, so do not annoy me."

My hands clenched into fists, but I forced myself to stay calm. I needed this job too desperately to lose it over Linda's petty games.

Linda continued, her voice dripping with poison. She said "You and that trash can are basically the same thing. You are both worthless, and you both exist to clean up other people's messes. What is the difference?"

The words stung, but I had heard worse from her before. I reached for the spilled trash without responding.

Linda watched me clean up her mess with obvious satisfaction. Just as she was about to leave, she turned back with a wicked smile.

She said "Oh, and Emma? That hockey star I told you about yesterday? Jake Sullivan? He will be here any minute now. I do not want to see a single spot anywhere when he walks through this lobby. Clean everything perfect, even if you have to scrub with your bare hands. I want it shining like a mirror. One speck of dirt when he arrives, and you are fired on the spot."

My blood felt like ice in my veins, even though I had known this moment was coming. Hearing his name out loud, knowing he would walk through these doors any minute, made everything feel terrifyingly real.

Linda walked away, leaving me alone with my panic and a floor that suddenly felt impossible to clean well enough.

I spent the next hour scrubbing with desperate intensity. My mind raced with terrifying possibilities. What if he recognized me? What if he did not? I looked so different now. I was thinner, worn down by years of struggle. My hair was shorter and darker under this ugly cleaning cap. Maybe I was just another invisible worker to him now.

Maybe that would be a blessing.

I was backing up with my mop bucket, trying to reach a corner spot, when I heard voices echoing across the lobby. Male voices. Expensive footsteps on marble.

My heart stopped.

I turned toward the sound and saw them. A group of men in expensive suits walking through the main entrance. And there, in the center of the group, was Jake Sullivan.

He looked exactly like he had on television, but somehow more real, more powerful in person. His navy suit fit him perfectly, and his presence filled the entire lobby. He was listening to something one of the other men was saying. His head was tilted slightly, that familiar look of concentration on his face.

I froze. My mop handle slipped in my sweaty hands.

This was really happening. After eight years of successfully avoiding Jake Sullivan, he was walking straight toward me.

I tried to back away, to disappear behind my cleaning cart, but I was moving too fast. My foot hit the bucket of soapy water, and I stumbled backward. I bumped directly into someone solid and warm.

I gasped "Oh!" and spun around.

Jake Sullivan stood there, so close I could smell his expensive cologne. So close I could see the tiny scar above his left eyebrow from a hockey accident when we were together. Those same blue eyes that had once looked at me with love now stared down at me with polite concern.

He said "Careful there. Are you alright?" His voice was exactly the same as I remembered.

I whispered "Jake," his name escaping my lips before I could stop it.

For one heart-stopping moment, our eyes locked. I searched his face desperately for any sign of recognition, any hint that he remembered the girl who had broken his heart eight years ago.

But there was nothing. Just polite concern for a clumsy cleaning lady.

I stammered "I am sorry. I did not see you there." My voice was barely audible.

He said "No harm done," already starting to turn back toward his business associates.

That was when Linda's voice cut through the air like a sword.

She said "What did I just tell you about being careful?" She marched over, her face twisted with rage. "Look at this! You are embarrassing our most important guest!" She turned to Jake with a sugary smile. "Mr. Sullivan, I am so incredibly sorry about this incident."

Then she whirled back to me, her eyes blazing. She said "You are fired. Right now. Get your things and get out of this building immediately."

The world started spinning around me. I could not lose this job. Alex needed new hockey equipment. We had rent due next week. Without this income, we would be on the streets.

I whispered "Please," desperation making my voice shake. "It was just an accident. I am sorry, I will be more careful."

Linda snapped "I do not want to hear your excuses. You are incompetent and you are done here."

My employee ID badge, already loose from my frantic cleaning, finally gave up and slipped from my uniform. The plastic card hit the marble floor and skidded across the polished surface. It slid to a stop right at Jake's expensive shoes.

My heart completely stopped. The badge had my name printed in bold black letters: EMMA REED.

Time slowed to a crawl as Jake bent down and picked up the card. I watched his eyes scan the information, and I held my breath. I was waiting for some reaction, some sign of recognition.

Jake stared at the badge for what felt like an eternity. His blue eyes read my name once, twice, three times. The silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating.

I thought desperately "Does he remember? Emma Reed might not trigger anything, but does my face look familiar? Does my voice sound like someone he used to know?"

But when Jake finally looked up at me, his expression was exactly the same as before.

He stepped closer and handed the badge back to me. Our fingers brushed for just a moment, and electricity shot through my entire body. The same spark that had always existed between us, the same connection that had made me fall so hard for him eight years ago.

But Jake's face remained completely neutral. Whatever I was feeling, he clearly was not experiencing it too.

He said simply "Here you go. You dropped this."

He looked directly into my eyes as he spoke, and for one terrifying, hopeful moment, I thought I saw something flicker in his expression. A shadow of confusion, like he was trying to remember something just out of reach.

Jake opened his mouth as if to say something more, and my heart hammered against my ribs.