007

SHAYLE

There’s a reason people called Ma Jackins the best in town. Yes, because she was literally the best.

I had no idea what to expect when she practically shoved me into her chair, clipped that cloth around my neck, and gave me a grin like she was about to reinvent me from scratch.

My hands gripped each other on my lap as she dragged her fingers through my hair, humming like some woman who knew too much and was having too much fun about it.

“Relax, sweetheart,” she chuckled when she caught the tension in my shoulders. “You’re in good hands.”

That was what scared me the most.

I closed my eyes and just let her do her thing. The sound of water splashing, her hands scrubbing my scalp, the tug of the comb, the snip of scissors; it was all background noise.

I kept them closed as if opening them would jinx everything. I didn’t want to stare at myself halfway through and lose courage.

She washed and washed and then dried and cut and straightened and curled. I just sat there like a statue.

My mind was wandering to every possible future. Would I look ridiculous? Would I look better? Would I finally stop hating the mirror every damn time?

Two hours. That was how long it took before she finally pulled the cloth off me, dusted my shoulders, and stepped back with her arms crossed.

“Alright,” she breathed with pride. “Open them.”

I didn’t move right away. My stomach twisted. Would this give me the confidence I lacked so badly? Or would it remind me that no matter what, I’d always just be… me?

Slowly, I peeled my eyes open and stared at the mirror.

My jaw nearly dropped. Was this…really me?

The girl staring back didn’t look like the same woman who walked in. My brown hair was gone, it was dyed a sleek black that made my pale skin glow brighter.

My long hair was gone too, it was chopped short, bouncing in soft waves that framed my face perfectly. And my enormous forehead? It had been covered, finally, by thick bangs that brushed my brows.

I reached up, my fingertips brushing the new strands like they weren’t mine.

It was… wonderful.

“Do you like it?” Ma Jackins asked, her eyes sparkling like a kid who just showed off her best science project.

I broke into the biggest smile I’d managed in months. “I love it.”

She clapped her hands together, thrilled, and spun me once more in the chair. Pride oozed out of her, and honestly, she deserved it.

I paid her, slipped the cash into her palm, and we lingered in small talk. She told me about the neighborhood, how business was going, and asked casually about me, though I gave vague answers.

Then I finally stepped toward the door.

But just as I reached for the handle, she stopped me.

“Hold on.”

I turned back, blinking.

“You said you wanted to look nothing like the old you,” she reminded, her eyes narrowing.

“A haircut alone won’t do that.” Her gaze slid down to my blouse and pants.

“Don’t get me wrong, your style’s neat. It fits who you used to be. But if you’re going for transformation, honey, then it’s time for a wardrobe change.”

I let out a nervous laugh. “Maybe. I’ll think about it.”

She wasn’t buying that. She eyed me suspiciously and then smirked.

“Actually, you know what? I’ll go with you. I know a thrift shop down the street that’s running discounts. Perfect timing.”

“What? No—” I started, but I didn’t even have time to finish.

She was already locking her shop, tossing the keys into her bag, and tugging at my arm.

“Come on, girl. Don’t argue. Let me do my job properly.”

Before I knew it, I was being dragged down the street like a lost puppy.

Two hours later, I was practically dead on my feet. My hands were loaded with bags, my arms aching like I had lifted weights. Dresses, skirts, pants, tops—Ma Jackins had made me try on everything. She was ruthless.

By the time I finally reached my apartment, I dumped the bags on the floor and leaned against the door, panting.

My eyes drifted to the door next to mine. Kieran’s door.

A pang of guilt struck my chest. I had walked out on him earlier this evening, ignored him even when he called after me. I should apologize. Maybe tomorrow, or not, I didn’t know yet. But sooner or later, I had to.

I sighed, dragged my bags inside, and busied myself with arranging the clothes, then dinner, a quick shower, and finally, I collapsed into bed.

–––

The next morning came faster than I hoped it would. I really wasn’t ready.

When I arrived at the company, I didn’t expect the stares. Not at all.

The moment I walked into the office building, people’s eyes clung to me. My skin prickled under the unusual attention. Aside from the day after Carlos dumped me, I had never been looked at this much.

Was it the hair? The tight, short black dress Ma Jackins had shoved into my arms and ordered me to wear today? Or was it just the fact that nobody recognized me?

This was an introvert’s nightmare. And right now, I was living it.

By the time I stepped out of the elevator, my palms were sweaty. Maybe I should have just worn my usual blouse and pants. It was my first day as the manager’s secretary after all. First impressions mattered. And instead of looking professional, I looked like I was cosplaying a sexy secretary with the aim to seduce.

I grimaced, clutching my bag tighter, and marched toward my department.

“Okay, Shayle. They’re just people. They’ll stare for a minute, then they’ll go back to their boring lives.” I muttered under my breath.

I inhaled deeply and pushed the door open.

But it was empty. Not a single soul.

My chest tightened. Shit. There was a meeting. Of course there was a meeting. And no one told me as usual.

Carlos used to always give me a heads up when stuff like this happened, but now? After the breakup? Yeah, he was probably glad to let me hang myself.

I rushed to my office, dropped my bag, grabbed a pen and pad, and sprinted down the hall in my heels. The click of them echoed and they made me want to strip them off. My lungs burned by the time I reached the conference room.

No time to calm down. No time to breathe. I pushed the door open and stepped in.

Every single head turned my way.

I froze, giving a weak, awkward smile as I slipped toward the nearest empty seat. My stomach flipped.

My eyes darted across the table and collided with Carlos’s.

He looked like he’d seen a ghost. His mouth parted slightly, his eyes wide, and for a flicker of a moment, color rushed to his cheeks.

My stupid heart skipped.

No. No, no, no. Don’t even think about it, Shayle. That bastard doesn’t deserve one more beat from your already broken heart.

I tore my gaze away immediately, my chest pounding harder.

But it wasn’t just Carlos making it pound harder. People were still sneaking glances at me. Whispers slid through the air. I cleared my throat quietly, hoping to steady myself, but it did nothing.

And then my gaze landed at the head of the table.

Lucien Dorne.

His eyes were locked on me. Dark. Intense. Piercing through me like he was trying to strip every layer away.

I snapped my gaze down, my lips pressing tight.

What the hell? Everyone else staring I could understand. But him? Why was he looking at me like that?

Get your fucking eyes off me, Dorne.

“Shayle Vale.”

My name rolled from the head of the table to me and across the room. Deep, smooth, and laced with authority.

A shiver shot up my spine.

I turned my head slowly toward him, swallowing hard. “Yes?” My voice came out small, betraying me.

Lucien tilted his head slightly, studying me like I was some kind of puzzle piece that suddenly didn’t fit.

“You’re late. Care to explain why?”