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Chapter 4 – Adrian’s POV

Three years later

It has been exactly three years and a month since my baby died.

Three long, difficult, and painful years.

Some nights I wanted to end it all. Suicidal thoughts were in my mind. I even tried. But every time, the guards found me before it was too late. Maybe life still wanted me here—for a reason I didn’t yet understand.

That morning, I was sitting on the prison floor after the daily exercise when the heavy iron door creaked open.

The sound always made me freeze. But this time, something was different.

Two officers walked, and one removed the handcuffs on my wrists. I frowned.

“What’s going on, officer?” I asked.

They didn’t answer my question. It was clear to me when one simply gave me a folded set of clean clothes—normal clothes, not the gray prison uniform. Unbelievable.

I remained calm, but my heart was pounding. Although I didn’t dare say a word, I knew I felt hopeful again.

They walked me down to the entrance of the prison close to the main gate, and in nearly four years, today my eyes took a brief look at sunlight, and a cool breeze brushed my face.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, as if I’d been choking for years.

I wasn’t the same woman who had been dragged in here, broken and naive… Right now, I am a changed person and determined to get vengeance… Being in prison had changed me a lot in so many ways;

Now I am stronger.

Harder.

Different.

Love had destroyed me once.

Now only one thing kept me alive.

Revenge.

At the gate, the female officer removed the cuffs completely. The sound of the metal clicking open echoed like freedom. For the first time ever, she smiled at me.

“Miss Adrian Martinez,” she said softly, “congratulations. You’re out on parole.”

My heart skipped. “Parole?” I whispered.

She nodded. “A billionaire paid for your release. He does that for prisoners he thinks deserve another chance. You’re lucky he picked you.”

A billionaire? My lips parted in shock. I didn’t even know anyone that rich.

The officer handed me a brown envelope. “Here’s your file—your employment record, ID, and updated CV. But remember,” she warned, her voice turning firm, “you must find a job soon. If not, you’ll be sent back to prison. And you know how cruel it is in there.”

Her words were sharp but honest. I nodded quietly. “Thank you,” I managed to say.

The big gate opened, and when I moved out of the prison yard, I headed to the main road with the documents in my hand…

Then I saw people walking freely. Cars passed by, I heard music playing in the distance, and also children laughed, but I had the feeling it was not real.

I stood there, looking up with tears filling my eyes. “I’m free.”

But freedom didn’t mean peace. It meant starting over—with nothing.

---

Two weeks later

The money that I saved years ago is almost finished. And I can't afford to go back to my old house. I got a shabby apartment; it had cracked walls with leaking walls, but I had to manage my life before I looked for a job and fixed things.

I knew I wouldn’t last another month without work.

I took my CV and went to the bar where I once worked as a dancer before everything went wrong. The owner looked at me for a moment, then frowned when he saw the word "ex-convict" on my paper.

“Get out,” he said harshly. “We don’t hire drug dealers and ex-convicts here.”

“Please,” I begged. “I just need a chance—”

He cut me off, throwing the paper back at me, which fell to the ground. “You’ll scare away my customers. I can’t afford trouble.”

His words hit hard like a punch. But I walked out slowly, not giving up, holding back tears.

I tried going to three more places that week searching for a job. All the places I went to, I got the same cold answers:

“Sorry, we don’t hire people with your record.”

“It’s bad for our image.”

“We can’t take that risk.”

By the fourth rejection, I felt my hope dying, and I had no control over it.

I didn’t even have enough money. I barely feed. The clothes I wore were still the ones I’d left prison in. I thought of going back to prison to eat their food at least. I thought since the world had written me off that it was better off to die.

One afternoon, I thought of ending my life so badly… I dragged myself down the street on my way to go get poison, drink, and die.

But then something happened: I stopped by the road when I saw an announcement written on a towering giant billboard in front of me.

The ad read:

“From Mr. Darcy Rodrigo, the billionaire CEO of Rodrigo's company.

Work description: Nanny for his three-year-old daughter.

Weekly payment: $10,000.

Apply at The Rodrigo Group main office.”

I froze.

Ten thousand dollars?

Per week?

My mouth went dry. That kind of money could change everything. I stared at the billboard again. Mr. Rodrigo—his name sounds like the kind of man who ruled the world. And the little girl won't be hard to take care of.

Something in me lit up. Maybe… maybe this was my chance.

Without wasting a second, I ran home to get ready.

---

I took my bath immediately and changed into the cleanest clothes I had. It was a simple knee-length dress. No makeup, no jewelry. I didn’t have it, so I didn't bother myself. Looking neat might work out to not looking expensive.

When I reached The Rodrigo Group building, I couldn't believe it. The skyscraper was a sleek, tall building that had glass windows. Luxurious.

I knew that working for the owner of this place was not my level, but I stepped into it anyway. My palms were sweaty as I joined the line of applicants.

But then I saw myself around women that intimidated me because my dressing was odd, like I was the applicant's house girl.

The women near me looked like models. They dressed in designer suits with matching heels. They were in heavy, flawless makeup. Their perfume filled the air with its expensive fragrance. I felt so invisible among them.

I stood at the end of the line, calm. But I could feel their eyes all over me.

One woman standing close to said with a smirk, “Are you sure you’re in the right place? This isn’t the cleaning staff interview.”

The others laughed.

I lifted my chin and said softly, “I came for the nanny job.”

Another person gave me a pity smile. “Do you know who you are applying to work for? That’s Darcy Rodrigo. He's a rich single dad in the city. Every girl's dream. They would die for this job. And you…” She looked at me over slowly. “You look like a housemaid who came out from the gutters.”

More laughter broke out as they made fun of me. I clenched my hands but stayed quiet.

They didn’t understand. To them it was about fame, fantasy, or fake dreams. But to me it was about survival.

"Stay calm, Adrian." I murmured to myself, "You’ve survived worse than this."

---

Then, suddenly, the door to the main office opened. The room went silent.

Every head turned.

And there he was—Darcy Rodrigo.

He walked in holding a little girl. He was handsome. He has shiny golden hair, then a tattoo peeking just above his collar and a diamond earring glittering in his ear… He wore an expensive black suit that fit his body.

He looked like a man who carried power even when he was silent.

The women's gasp erupted.

“Oh my God, it’s Darcy Rodrigo!”

“He’s very handsome.”

“He’s looking my way! Is my lipstick okay? Is my hair okay?

They straightened their dresses and smiled like contestants in a beauty show.

Some even stood in their seductive poses and winked at him as if his gaze could crown them queen.

But me?

But I stood frozen.

I was looking at the little girl he carried on his arm. She had curly golden hair just like her father. But her eyes were just like mine.

Probably her mom is my lookalike.

I felt my knees go weak. My chest tightened.

The child looked at me, and I could swear maybe she knew me from somewhere. A strange warmth passed through me, like a forgotten memory.

Then Darcy Rodrigo’s gaze swept over the line of women until his eyes met mine.

He stopped.

But I felt a strange sensation in my body the moment she stared directly at me, as if she knew me from the past…

Mr. Darcy stopped in front of us as his eyes scanned all of us in line until they locked on mine.

Those cold gray eyes refuse to leave mine as if he were staring into my soul or even stripping me naked with his eyes.

I swallowed hard; my throat suddenly went dry.... . I could feel my hands trembling by my sides.

“Don’t screw this up, Adrian…. Don’t you dare.” I whispered to myself, but…

Why… Why is his presence so familiar?

But as I stood there, his eyes still locked on mine, one question refused to leave my mind—

Why does he feel so familiar?

And why does his little girl…

look so much like me?