Chapter 5

Dahlia's POV

Six years had passed since I walked away from the man I loved, and in those six years, I had learned one painful lesson: life did not care how much you were hurting. It would keep throwing problems at you, one after another, until you either found the strength to stand or allowed yourself to be crushed beneath them.

I had no choice but to keep standing. Not when I had a daughter depending on me.

"Mummy, are you coming to pick me up today?" Miley had asked that morning, her little hands wrapped around my waist as I prepared to leave for work.

"Of course, baby." I had bent down to kiss her forehead. "I'll come and get you as soon as I'm done, okay?"

She had smiled, showing off the tiny gap between her front teeth, before running back to her toys.

That smile was the reason I kept going, even on days when I felt like giving up.

My job as an office assistant at one of the city's major corporations wasn't glamorous, but it paid enough to keep food on our table and a roof over our heads. Or at least, it was supposed to. Between the rent, electricity bills, daycare fees, and the endless list of things a growing child needed, my salary barely lasted until the next payday. Still, I was grateful to have a job. Finding one without the right connections was difficult, and I couldn't afford to be picky.

Unfortunately, I had just discovered that even keeping a job could become a nightmare.

I was standing beside the office printer, collecting a stack of documents my supervisor had asked me to print, when I felt someone come up behind me.

"You're quite hardworking, Dahlia." Mr. Collins said, his voice carrying an unpleasant note that made my shoulders stiffen. "Always willing to do whatever you're told."

I ignored the remark and straightened the papers. "The documents you requested are ready, Sir."

Instead of taking them, he leaned closer. "You know, I've been thinking. A pretty girl like you shouldn't have to struggle so much. You could make things a lot easier for yourself if you knew how to treat the right people."

My fingers tightened around the papers. I had heard his inappropriate comments before, and each time, I had pretended not to understand what he meant. I needed the job, and I had hoped that ignoring him would eventually make him stop.

Apparently, I had been wrong.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I don't understand what you mean."

"Oh, I think you do." His hand settled on my waist.

I froze.

Before I could move away, his fingers pressed against me, and he leaned closer, his breath brushing my ear.

"Come on, don't act so innocent. We're alone here. You give me a little attention, and I could make sure you never have to worry about money again."

Disgust crawled through me. I jerked away from him, clutching the documents against my chest.

"Don't touch me!"

His expression hardened. "Watch your tone."

"No, you watch yours!" I snapped, my voice trembling with anger. "I'm here to do my job, not to entertain you. Keep your hands to yourself!"

He stared at me as though he couldn't believe I had dared to speak to him that way. Then he laughed, a cold, mocking sound that made my stomach turn.

"You think you're too good for me?"

"I think you're disgusting."

The words had barely left my mouth before he reached for my arm. I pulled away sharply, and when he tried to grab me again, something inside me finally snapped.

My palm connected with his cheek.

The slap rang through the room.

For one glorious second, silence fell between us. I could hardly believe I had done it myself, but I didn't regret it. Not when I could still feel the lingering disgust of his touch on my skin.

Mr. Collins slowly turned his face back toward me. His eyes were wide with disbelief, but the shock quickly gave way to fury.

"You slapped me?"

"You deserved it." I replied, even though my heart was pounding so hard I could barely breathe.

"You ungrateful little—" He stopped himself, his face twisting with rage. "You're fired! Get out of my office. Get out of this building!"

I swallowed, forcing myself to remain calm. "Fine. I'm leaving. But I want the wages I've already earned."

He let out an incredulous laugh. "You must be joking."

"I'm not. I've worked here for weeks. You can't just fire me and refuse to pay me for the days I've already worked."

"Watch me." He pointed toward the door. "You should be grateful I'm not calling security to have you dragged out for assaulting your superior."

I stared at him, struggling to believe what I was hearing. "You were the one who touched me inappropriately! I only defended myself!"

"Get out!"

He grabbed my arm and shoved me toward the door. I stumbled, barely managing to catch myself before I fell. My documents scattered across the floor, but he didn't care. He pushed me out into the corridor and slammed the door behind me.

I stood there, trembling with humiliation and anger, as several employees glanced in my direction. Some quickly looked away, pretending they hadn't witnessed anything. Others whispered among themselves.

Not one of them stepped forward to help.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to march back into his office and demand that he answer for what he had done. But I knew exactly how that would end. He had the position, the connections, and the authority. I was just an employee who could be replaced before the day was over.

So I bent down, gathered the scattered documents and returned to my table. I dropped the documents on it and carried my belongings. I walked out of the building with nothing but my handbag and the little money left in my purse.

I hadn't even been paid.

By the time I arrived at the daycare, my anger had settled into a heavy knot in my chest. I forced a smile when Miley came running toward me, her little arms stretched wide.

"Mummy!"

I crouched and caught her as she threw herself into my arms, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"Hello, my sunshine. Did you have a good day?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "We drew pictures! I drew you, and me, and our house. But Teacher said I should make the house bigger next time."

A weak laugh escaped me. "Then we'll make it the biggest house in the world, baby."

"With a big garden?"

"With a big garden."

"And flowers?"

"Lots of flowers."

She giggled, completely satisfied with my answer, and I hugged her a little tighter. For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine it. A comfortable home, a garden where Miley could play, and a life where I wouldn't have to count every coin before buying groceries.

Then reality came knocking again.

I carried her home, listened to her chatter about her day, and prepared the simple dinner we had left in the refrigerator. After helping her wash up and change into her pajamas, I tucked her into bed and stayed beside her until her eyes grew heavy.

"Mummy?" She murmured sleepily.

"Yes, baby?"

"Will we have pancakes tomorrow?"

My heart squeezed.

Pancakes were her favorite, but we had run out of flour, and I didn't have enough money to buy more until I found another source of income.

"Maybe another day, sweetheart." I whispered, smoothing her hair away from her face. "We'll have them soon, I promise."

"Okay." She smiled drowsily. "I love you, Mummy."

"I love you more than anything in the world."

She closed her eyes, trusting me completely, and I remained beside her until she fell asleep.

Only then did I return to the small living room and allow the smile to fall from my face.

The unpaid bills were stacked on the table where I had left them that morning. Electricity. Rent. Daycare. Groceries. I sat down and went through them one by one, checking the amounts and calculating what I had left.

The numbers refused to cooperate.

Even if I stretched the money in my purse as far as possible, it wouldn't cover everything. And now that I had lost my job, I didn't even know when I would have another salary to depend on.

I pressed my fingers against my forehead, fighting the tears gathering behind my eyes.

"What am I supposed to do now?" I whispered into the empty room.

There was no answer.

For six years, I had done everything I could to build a life for Miley and me. I had worked exhausting hours, accepted jobs that paid barely enough, and swallowed my pride more times than I could count. I had survived loneliness, fear, and the constant worry that one unexpected expense could leave us with nothing.

I had done all of that without asking anyone for help.

But tonight, staring at those bills, I felt utterly defeated.

Then I remembered Mr. Collins.

He might have fired me, but he had no right to keep the money I had already earned. That money belonged to me, and I needed every cent of it.

I wiped my cheeks and sat up straighter.

I would return to the company tomorrow. I would demand my wages, and I wouldn't leave without them.

I repeated those words to myself until they sounded convincing enough to believe.

The following morning, I dropped Miley off at daycare and headed straight to the company. I wore my cleanest blouse and the only pair of formal trousers I owned, hoping that looking presentable would help me keep my composure. My stomach twisted with nerves as I stepped through the entrance, but I reminded myself that I wasn't there to beg for a favor.

I was there for what I had earned.

After asking the receptionist to inform Mr. Collins that I had come to collect my outstanding wages, I was told to wait. Nearly twenty minutes passed before someone finally allowed me into his office.

He was sitting behind his desk, scrolling through his phone, and barely glanced up when I entered.

"Well, well." He drawled. "Look who decided to come back."

I kept my hands clasped in front of me. "Good morning, Sir. I'm here for my wages."

He set his phone down and leaned back in his chair. "I thought I made myself clear yesterday. You're fired. You have no business coming here."

"I'm not here to discuss my employment. I'm asking you to pay me for the days I worked before you fired me."

"Pay you?" He scoffed. "For what? You assaulted your supervisor and caused a scene in my office. You should consider yourself lucky I haven't taken further action against you."

"You touched me without my permission!"

"And you slapped me!" He shouted, rising from his chair. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to?"

I flinched at the sudden outburst, but I refused to back down.

"I know exactly who I'm talking to. I'm talking to the man who thinks he can take advantage of a woman because he has power over her. I'm talking to the man who fired me because I refused to let him touch me. And now you're refusing to pay me for work I've already done."

His face darkened.

For a moment, I thought he might actually hit me. Instead, he smiled, and somehow that was worse.

"You want your money that badly?"

"Yes."

"Then perhaps we can come to an arrangement."

My stomach tightened. "What arrangement?"

He stepped around his desk, looking me up and down with open contempt.

"Kneel."

I stared at him, certain I had misheard.

"What?"

"You heard me." He folded his arms across his chest. "Get down on your knees, apologize for slapping me, and beg me to forgive you. If you do that, I might consider paying you what you claim I owe you."

Heat rushed to my face.

"You can't be serious."

"Oh, I'm very serious." He tilted his head, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "Unless, of course, you don't need the money. You can walk out of here right now and see how far your pride gets you."

I looked at him, my hands trembling at my sides.

I hated him. I hated his smug expression, his condescending voice, and the way he was enjoying every second of my humiliation. I wanted to tell him to keep his money. I wanted to turn around, walk out, and never allow him to see how desperate I had become.

But then I thought of Miley.

I thought of the bills waiting on our table, the nearly empty cupboard in our kitchen, and the little girl who had asked me for pancakes with such innocent hope. I thought of how carefully she trusted every promise I made, never knowing how hard I fought to keep them.

My pride wouldn't pay the rent. My anger wouldn't put food on the table.

And Miley shouldn't have to suffer because I refused to bend.

I closed my eyes for a brief moment, swallowing the bitter lump in my throat.

"Please." I whispered, hating how small my voice sounded. "Just pay me what you owe me."

Mr. Collins laughed.

"I told you what I want."

My fingers curled into fists. Every part of me rebelled against what he was asking, but desperation was a cruel thing. It cornered you until the choices left before you were all painful, then forced you to choose which pain you could survive.

Slowly, I lowered my gaze.

I was Dahlia Wynn. I had once been a girl who believed that love could conquer anything, who had given her heart to a man and dreamed of a future he had never promised her. That girl was gone. In her place stood a woman who had learned to survive even when life gave her nothing worth holding on to.

And now, for my daughter, I was preparing to swallow the last piece of my pride.

My knees began to bend.

"That's more like it." Mr. Collins said, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Then a deep, familiar voice cut through the room.

"That's enough."

I froze.

For a moment, I couldn't breathe. I knew that voice. I had spent six years trying to bury the memories attached to it, six years teaching myself not to wonder where its owner was or whether he ever thought about me.

Yet I would have recognized it anywhere.

Slowly, I turned around.

A man stood at the entrance to the office, dressed in a perfectly tailored dark suit that emphasized his broad shoulders. His polished shoes, expensive watch, and commanding presence made it clear that he was no longer the young man I remembered. He carried himself with the effortless authority of someone accustomed to having every room fall silent when he entered.

But it was his face that stole the breath from my lungs.

The sharp jaw. The familiar features. The dark eyes that had haunted my dreams for six long years.

Kayden Voss.

My first love. The father of my daughter. The man I had run away from because I couldn't bear the thought of watching him build a life with another woman while carrying his child inside me.

He was standing right in front of me.

For several seconds, I could only stare. My heart pounded so violently that I feared everyone in the room would hear it. I had imagined seeing him again countless times, sometimes in dreams and sometimes in the quiet moments when loneliness became too much to bear.

In none of those moments had I imagined meeting him like this.

Not with me standing in front of a man who had demanded I kneel for money I had rightfully earned.

Not with Kayden witnessing the humiliation I had desperately tried to hide from the world.

His gaze moved from my bent knees to my face, and something in his expression changed. The calm authority he had entered with remained, but his eyes grew colder as he looked past me toward my supervisor.

Mr. Collins immediately straightened.

"Mr. Voss!" He exclaimed, his voice suddenly respectful. "I wasn't expecting you so soon."

Kayden didn't answer him.

He continued looking at me, and I hated that I couldn't bring myself to look away. Six years had changed him. He looked older, more mature, and impossibly more powerful than the man I remembered. His features were harder now, his expression more guarded, but there was no mistaking him.

I had loved this man once with everything I had.

A part of me, buried beneath years of hurt and disappointment, still recognized him as the man I had never truly stopped loving.

But I couldn't afford to be that girl anymore.

Not now. Not after everything I had endured.

One of the employees standing nearby stepped forward, wearing an eager smile.

"Mr. Voss, do you know this woman?"

Kayden's eyes remained fixed on mine.

The silence stretched until my throat tightened. I wanted him to look away. I wanted him to pretend he didn't recognize me, because I didn't know what I would do if he acknowledged the woman I had become.

Then he spoke, his voice low and steady.

"We need to talk."