Chapter 5

Daphne

My heel snapped somewhere between the twelfth and thirteenth rejection.

It happened mid-step, the cheap leather strap giving out with a sharp crack that sent me stumbling. I caught myself on a lamppost and just stood there for a second, blinking at the broken shoe dangling from my foot like it was the last straw. Maybe it was.

By the time I limped over to a nearby bench, my legs ached, my blouse clung to my back, and my stomach had been growling for hours. The city around me was still alive with noise, horns, footsteps, voices, but all of it felt like it was happening far away.

I sank onto the bench, took off both heels, and placed them beside me. The concrete was hot even through my stockings. My feet throbbed.

The folder I had been clutching all day slipped from my lap, spilling a few creased résumés onto the ground. I stared at them, then laughed softly to myself. The kind of laugh that did not really sound like laughter at all.

I had spent the last three days walking from one office to another, smiling through endless interviews, and hearing the same lines over and over again.

“We’ll let you know.”

“Come back next week.”

“We’ll contact you.”

They never did.

I reached into my bag and pulled out my wallet. Inside were a few crumpled bills and a small handful of coins. Enough for two, maybe three days if I stretched it. Rent was due soon. Caleb’s favorite shoes were already too small. And the bakery, the one place that felt like a second home, was now nothing more than blackened ruins.

My throat tightened as I closed the wallet. I did not cry. I could not afford to.

“Rough day?”

The voice startled me.

I looked up and saw a man sitting down on the other end of the bench. He was maybe in his thirties, with neatly combed dark hair and a warm, slightly crooked smile. He wore a crisp shirt, no tie, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. There was something approachable about him, but cautious too, like he was used to reading people before talking.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Didn’t mean to scare you. You just look like you’ve been through it.”

I managed a small, tired smile. “Something like that.”

“Job hunting?” he asked, nodding toward the folder beside me.

“Yeah,” I said. “And not doing a very good job of it.”

He chuckled. “Tough market right now. What kind of work are you looking for?”

“Anything, really. I used to work at a bakery, but it burned down last week. I’ve been trying to find something new since then.”

His expression softened. “That’s rough. Sorry to hear that.”

I shrugged. “It’s fine. Just bad timing, I guess.”

He leaned back against the bench. “You know, my boss is looking for a personal assistant. It’s not exactly baking, but it’s steady work. Good pay too.”

I blinked. “Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah. He’s picky, but you seem grounded. Reliable. I could get you in for an interview if you want.”

It sounded too good to be true.

“Are you serious?” I asked cautiously.

“Completely. I wouldn’t mention it if I wasn’t. He hates when I waste his time.”

I hesitated. “And what’s your boss like?”

He smiled faintly. “Demanding. Intense. But fair. He runs one of the biggest companies downtown. You’ve probably heard of it.”

My stomach fluttered. I had heard that line before, usually from people who wanted to sound more important than they were, but something about his calm confidence made me believe him.

I hesitated only for a moment longer before nodding. “Okay. I’ll take it. I mean, the interview. I don’t have anything to lose at this point.”

“That’s the spirit.” He stood and motioned for me to follow. “Come on, I’ll take you there.”

I slipped my broken heels into my bag and followed him down the street. My feet ached with every step, but I ignored it. My heart was pounding, not from excitement exactly, but from the fragile hope I hadn’t felt in weeks.

The man introduced himself as Ethan, chatting easily as we walked. He didn’t ask too many questions, just made casual small talk about the weather, the city, the long work hours his boss demanded.

When the building finally came into view, I stopped walking.

The tower stretched high above the street, all glass and steel, gleaming in the afternoon sun. I knew this place. Everyone did. Moreau Enterprises.

A name that was impossible to forget.

For a moment, all the air seemed to leave my lungs.

Ethan glanced back at me, noticing my hesitation. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” I said quickly. “Just didn’t realize where we were going.”

He smiled. “Don’t worry. You’ll do fine. My boss is strict, but he values loyalty and hard work. That’s what matters most.”

Loyalty. Hard work.

Two things I had lived by since the day I became a mother.

I forced my legs to move, following Ethan into the marble-floored lobby. The air inside was cool and smelled faintly of polished wood and money. People in suits walked past us, their shoes clicking sharply against the floor. I felt completely out of place, standing there in my worn blouse and flats that didn’t match.

We took the elevator up to the top floor. My reflection in the mirrored walls looked tired but determined. I tried to fix my hair with trembling fingers.

When the doors opened, Ethan led me down a quiet hallway. At the end of it was a set of double glass doors. A sleek plaque beside it read: Zachary Moreau, Chief Executive Officer.

My stomach dropped.

No.

It couldn’t be.

Before I could say anything, Ethan knocked lightly and pushed the door open.

“Boss?” he said. “I brought someone for the assistant position. Thought you’d want to meet her personally.”

I couldn’t breathe.

I stepped into the office, and there he was, standing behind his desk, sunlight from the window spilling across his face.

Zachary Moreau.

Older now, sharper, every inch of him radiating power and confidence. But his eyes, the same deep, piercing gray I remembered, met mine across the room.

And for a moment, it was like the years between us vanished.

The night I had spent trying to forget came rushing back in flashes, his touch, his voice, the way he had looked at me just before everything faded into dark.

He froze too, his expression unreadable.

Ethan glanced between us, sensing something but not understanding. “So, uh… should I leave you two to talk?”

Neither of us answered.

The silence stretched, heavy and electric, until my heart felt like it might burst.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to look composed even as panic clawed at my chest.

“Miss,” Zachary finally said, his voice smooth but low, deliberate. “Please. Have a seat.”

And just like that, the world tilted again.