Chapter Three

Sera 

“Mommy! Look! My motor speed is fast, right?”

Nathan giggled loudly as he ran in a tiny circle around my legs, clutching his little backpack tightly against his chest. His bright, wide eyes shone with pure excitement under his helmet.

I couldn't help but laugh as I unbuckled his helmet, tousling his soft dark curls. “Hey, slow down, little racer. And you weren't driving—Mommy was. You were just riding behind me!”

“I was helping you steer with my mind!” he insisted, puffing out his cheeks playfully.

“Is that so?” I smiled, kneeling to adjust his collar. “Well, Mr. Driver, you have to run into your classroom now. Teacher Sarah is waiting by the door.”

Nathan immediately wrapped his small arms around my neck, giving me a tight hug. “Good luck on your job interview, Mommy! Get the big money so we can buy a giant red robot!”

“I’ll do my best,” I whispered into his hair, kissing his cheek. “Be good, okay? Auntie Iya will pick you up later.”

“Okay! Love you, Mommy!”

He waved frantically before turning and sprinting toward his kindergarten classroom. I stood there watching his small figure disappear through the doors, a warm, protective feeling swelling in my chest.

Nathan was my entire world. Five years ago, I thought my life was over when my father cast me out into the streets. But Iya—my best friend since high school—had found me crying at a bus stop with my single suitcase. She took me in, gave me a roof over my head, and got me an entry-level desk job at her father’s modest logistics firm.

It wasn't a corporate giant like the Alcantara Group, but it kept food on the table and paid for Nathan's milk. Two years ago, I even managed to buy a secondhand scooter from Iya on installment. I was down to my last three monthly payments.

Just a few more months and it's fully mine, I thought with a small smile as I mounted the scooter, kickstarting the engine.

Today, however, was a chance for something bigger. Montenegro Global Holdings was hiring an Executive Assistant. The salary was four times what I was making at Iya’s father’s firm. If I got this job, I could finally move Nathan and me into a nicer apartment and set up a proper savings account for his future.

Twenty minutes later, I parked the scooter in the designated visitor basement of the massive glass skyscraper that housed Montenegro Global.

I headed straight to the ground floor restroom, using the mirror to fix my windblown hair and pull it into a neat, low bun. I adjusted my high-waisted beige trousers and pressed down the collar of my crisp white blouse. Smooth, decent, and professional.

When I arrived at the 15th-floor waiting lounge, there were already seven other applicants sitting on the plush leather couches, all holding pristine leather portfolios.

I took an empty seat near a young woman in an expensive designer skirt. She looked me up and down before offering a small, polite smile.

“Nervous?” she asked in a low whisper.

“A little,” I admitted, smoothing out my trouser legs. “It’s a massive company.”

“Tell me about it,” another applicant chimed in from across the glass table, leaning forward with an eager grin. “Though honestly, half the women in this room aren't even here for the paycheck.”

I blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Alexander Montenegro,” the girl whispered, holding up her tablet screen to show a business magazine cover featuring a striking, sharp-jawed man in a charcoal suit. His dark eyes were intense, almost lethal, beneath heavy brows, and his expression was completely void of warmth.

“He’s drop-dead gorgeous,” the girl sighed. “Ruthless, billionaire, single… and completely untouchable. They say his father, the Chairman, is severely ill and stepping down soon, so Alexander has full control over the empire now.”

“I’m just here for the job,” I said softly, taking my eye off the magazine photo. There was something strangely unsettling about the man’s cold gaze, but I brushed the feeling aside. “The salary is what matters.”

“Seraphina Alcantara?” a secretary called out from the door of the main panel room.

I stood up, holding my breath. “Yes. That’s me.”

“Please step inside.”

The panel interview started standardly enough. A middle-aged HR Director sat at the center of the desk, flipping through my resume. Beside him sat a younger man in a tailored navy suit, leaning back in his leather chair with an amused, easygoing grin.

“Miss Alcantara,” the HR Director began, spectacles resting on the bridge of his nose. “Your credentials from your previous employment at CLK Holdings are quite impressive, but Montenegro Global operates on a vastly different scale—”

“Oh, come on, Mr. Santos,” the younger man interrupted lazily, twirling a expensive pen between his fingers. “Her organization metrics are top-tier. Look at those quarterly efficiency reports.”

I shifted slightly in my seat. I had recognized him from company articles—Clifford Dale, the Executive Vice President, and Alexander Montenegro’s cousin. Throughout the first ten minutes, Clifford barely asked any actual technical questions, looking more like he was analyzing me as a person than an employee.

Suddenly, Clifford’s phone vibrated on the desk. He glanced at the screen, and his relaxed posture straightened instantly.

“Excuse me for a second,” Clifford said, picking up the call and stepping toward the corner of the room. “Yeah? ...She’s in here right now. ...Are you sure? ...Alright.”

He hung up, walked back to the main desk, and tapped the HR Director on the shoulder.

“Interview's over, Mr. Santos,” Clifford said casually. “The great Aleander wants to see her.”

The HR Director blinked in complete shock. “What? Mr. Montenegro? But sir, we haven't even finished the scoring matrix for the other applicants—”

“Alexander’s orders,” Clifford cut in, flashing a bright, charming smile that accepted no arguments. “He wants a one-on-one with Miss Alcantara upstairs. Right now.”

The HR Director swallowed hard and nodded meekly. “Of course, sir.”

Clifford turned to me, jerking his chin toward the door. “Follow me, Miss Alcantara.”

Confused and slightly breathless, I grabbed my file and stood up. As we walked out of the panel room, the remaining applicants stared at us in stunned silence. Even the passing employees in the hallway whispered to one another as Clifford led me toward the private executive elevator.

“Don’t look so nervous,” Clifford chuckled as the elevator doors slid shut, sealing us inside. He held out his hand with a friendly grin. “I’m Clifford Dale, by the way. Alexander’s cousin and resident firefighter.”

“Sera,” I replied, shaking his hand politely. “Mr. Dale, if I may ask… why does Mr. Montenegro want to interview me personally? Is there an issue with my background check?”

“Not at all,” Clifford smiled, though his eyes carried a strange, curious glint as he looked at me. “Alexander just… saw your name on the candidate roster and made a quick decision. You'll see.”

The elevator chime sounded, and the doors slid open to reveal an entire floor dedicated to a single office.

The aesthetic was sleek, dark, and overwhelmingly quiet. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows offered a panoramic view of the city skyline, but the atmosphere inside felt icy cold.

“End of the line for me,” Clifford said, stepping back into the elevator frame. “His desk is straight ahead. Good luck, Sera.”

Before I could ask another question, the elevator doors closed, leaving me standing alone in the massive penthouse office.

I took a slow, quiet breath and walked forward.

Sitting behind a massive black marble desk at the far end of the room was Alexander Montenegro.

He was far more intimidating in person than in the magazine cover. His broad shoulders filled out his dark suit effortlessly, his dark hair neatly styled, and his sharp jawline tightly set. He didn't even look up as my heels clicked against the polished floor.

“Sit,” he commanded.

His voice was a deep, gravelly baritone that sent an unexpected, sharp shiver straight down my spine.

I took a seat in the leather armchair across from his desk, keeping my back straight and resting my hands on my lap. “Good morning, Mr. Montenegro. I’m Seraphina Alcantara. It’s an honor to—”

“I read your resume,” he interrupted, his dark eyes finally lifting from his document tablet to lock onto mine.

His gaze was icy, calculating, and completely unreadable. Yet, as his eyes met mine, a strange, suffocating weight filled the air between us.

“You worked at a small logistics firm for five years,” he said flatly, his tone emotionless. “You have no prior experience handling high-level corporate negotiations for a conglomerate of this size.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, holding my ground. “I am a quick learner, Mr. Montenegro. My record shows that I handled cross-dock operations and executive scheduling seamlessly—”

“Do you live alone?” he asked suddenly, cutting me off again.

I froze. “I… pardon?”

“Are you single?” he rephrased, his voice smooth, cold, and entirely unbothered by how inappropriate the question was for a job interview. “Do you have any personal ties or legal commitments that would restrict your full-time availability?”

I frowned, a subtle irritation rising beneath my polite facade. “Mr. Montenegro, with all due respect, I believed this interview was to evaluate my professional qualifications for the Executive Assistant role.”

Alexander set his tablet down on the marble desk with a soft click. He leaned back in his chair, folding his large hands together. His dark eyes narrowed slightly as he observed my reaction.

“I am not interviewing you for the assistant position, Miss Alcantara,” he stated plainly.

I blinked, thoroughly bewildered. “Then why am I here?”

“I have an exclusive offer for you,” Alexander said, his tone as nonchalant as if he were discussing a standard business merger. “One that pays significantly more than the position you applied for.”

I leaned back slightly, my guards immediately going up. “What kind of offer?”

Alexander leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk, his dark gaze locking firmly onto mine without a single flicker of emotion.

“I want you to become my wife.”