My Garden 6

I hadn’t slept much since Alexander’s visit. His words echoed in my mind like a persistent hum I couldn’t turn off. “I’m trying to help you.” Those words were tangled with the memory of his intense eyes, eyes that seemed to see too much. But help from a man like Alexander Kane came with strings, didn’t it? I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out what those strings might be.

The shop was quiet that morning. Normally, I loved the solitude—just me, the flowers, and the soft hum of my favorite playlist in the background. Today, though, the silence felt heavy. Each time the bell over the door jingled, I hoped for a distraction. A regular customer, Mrs. Howard, stopped by to pick up a bouquet for her granddaughter’s birthday. She chatted about cake flavors and party themes, and I nodded along, though I barely heard a word she said.

When she left, I sighed and returned to the tulips. My hands moved on autopilot as I arranged them into neat bundles. Their bright colors usually brought me peace, but today, even they couldn’t quiet my thoughts. Alexander’s unread message sat like a stone in my inbox, taunting me every time I picked up my phone.

The sharp chime of the doorbell startled me. I looked up, expecting another familiar face. Instead, a tall, striking woman in a perfectly tailored blazer stepped inside. She carried herself with an air of authority, her eyes scanning the shop like she was appraising it.

"Can I help you?" I asked, my voice a little sharper than usual.

The woman’s red lips curled into a polite smile, though her expression remained distant. "Sophia Miller, correct?"

"Yes," I said slowly. "Who’s asking?"

"Evelyn Marlowe," she said, extending a perfectly manicured hand. "I’m Mr. Kane’s head of acquisitions."

My stomach twisted. Of course, she was here because of Alexander. I shook her hand, though I couldn’t help but feel wary of her polished demeanor.

"What can I do for you, Ms. Marlowe?" I asked, keeping my tone neutral.

Evelyn’s gaze swept across the shop again before landing back on me. "Mr. Kane asked me to evaluate your business for potential expansion opportunities."

"Expansion?" I repeated, my brow furrowing.

"Yes," she said, as if it were obvious. "Kane Industries specializes in nurturing small businesses like yours, helping them reach their full potential. Mr. Kane believes this shop has... promise."

Her words felt rehearsed, too smooth to be genuine. I folded my arms, standing a little straighter. "I didn’t ask for help, and I’m not sure why Mr. Kane thinks I need it."

Evelyn’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of annoyance in her eyes. "Mr. Kane simply recognizes talent when he sees it, Miss Miller. This is an opportunity to elevate your business beyond what you could achieve alone."

I bristled at her tone. "With all due respect, I’ve been running this shop just fine on my own. I don’t need Mr. Kane—or anyone else—evaluating it like I’m some kind of charity case."

Evelyn’s smile tightened. "I understand your independence, but you’d be wise not to dismiss this so hastily. Mr. Kane’s offer is rare. Most would jump at the chance."

"Well, I’m not most people," I said firmly.

She handed me a sleek, black business card, the kind that practically screamed wealth and power. "Should you change your mind, you know where to reach me."

I took the card, though I had no intention of using it. As Evelyn left, her heels clicking sharply against the floor, I exhaled a shaky breath.

The rest of the day passed in a haze. I smiled at customers and wrapped their bouquets, but my mind was elsewhere. What was Alexander playing at? Why was he so determined to involve himself in my life?

By the time I locked up for the night, I was exhausted. The walk home felt longer than usual, the crisp autumn air biting at my cheeks. I dropped onto the couch in my tiny apartment, pulling a blanket over my legs. The business card Evelyn had left sat on the coffee table, mocking me with its sleek design.

My phone buzzed beside me, breaking my thoughts. It was a message from Claire, my best friend.

Claire: Babe, drinks this weekend? You need a break.

I smiled faintly. Claire always seemed to know when I was spiraling.

Me: Yes, please. Let’s make it happen.

But as I set my phone down, the knot in my stomach tightened again. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was standing at a crossroads, and every path seemed like a gamble. If I said no to Alexander’s help, I risked losing everything I’d built. But if I said yes... what would that cost me?

The shop was quiet, save for the soft rustle of tulip petals as I arranged them in a bouquet. My mother’s favorite vase sat on the counter beside me, its hand-painted flowers faded from years of use. This shop wasn’t just a business—it was my family’s legacy. My grandmother started it, my mother poured her heart into it, and now it was mine to protect.

But Evelyn’s cold words and Alexander Kane’s unrelenting gaze lingered in my mind, gnawing at my confidence.

Claire walked in, her usual burst of energy cutting through my brooding. She carried two coffees, plopping one on the counter before giving me a once-over.

“You’ve got that look,” she said, sipping from her cup.

“What look?” I asked, feigning innocence.

“The ‘I’m overthinking everything and stewing in it’ look,” she replied. “Spill.”

I sighed, setting the bouquet aside. Claire wasn’t just my best friend; she was my rock. If anyone could help me untangle this mess, it was her.

“You remember how I mentioned Alexander Kane came by?”

Her eyes widened. “The billionaire? Oh, I remember. What happened now?”

“His assistant came by,” I said, my tone heavy. “She made it very clear that Kane Industries thinks my shop needs... fixing.”

“Fixing?” Claire repeated, her voice rising. “Soph, this shop is perfect. Your family built this place—no way you need some corporate giant telling you how to run it.”

“That’s what I said,” I replied, frustration seeping into my voice. “But she made me feel like I’m failing. Like I’m not good enough to keep this place afloat.”

Claire’s expression softened. “Soph, you’ve kept this place alive through tough times. You’re doing your family proud.”

Her words were comforting, but they didn’t erase the nagging doubt Evelyn had planted. The shop’s rent was rising, and the foot traffic in this neighborhood wasn’t what it used to be. Could I really keep this place going on my own?

Before I could voice my fears, the bell above the door jingled. I turned, expecting a customer, but my stomach dropped when I saw him.

“Ms. Miller,” Alexander Kane said, his deep voice cutting through the air.

I stood taller, squaring my shoulders. “Mr. Kane. What brings you back?”

He stepped inside, his gaze sweeping over the shop before landing on me. “I wanted to check in.”

“Check in?” I echoed, folding my arms. “Your assistant already made your position clear.”

“I’m aware,” he said, his tone calm. “And I apologize if she came across as... overzealous.”

“That’s one word for it,” I muttered.

Alexander’s lips twitched, as if he were holding back a smile. “Ms. Miller, I understand your hesitation. But my offer still stands. Kane Industries can help you preserve your family’s legacy and ensure this shop thrives for generations to come.”

I bristled. “This shop has survived on its own for decades. We don’t need corporate intervention to keep it alive.”

“I admire your independence,” he said, his tone softening. “But sometimes, pride can blind us to opportunities.”

“This isn’t about pride,” I snapped. “It’s about protecting what my family built. I won’t let anyone take that away.”

For a moment, something flickered in his expression—something almost vulnerable. But it was gone as quickly as it came.

“I’m not trying to take anything away,” he said. “I only want to help. But the decision is yours.”

Before I could respond, he reached into his pocket and handed me a sleek envelope.

“What’s this?” I asked, eyeing it warily.

“An invitation,” he said simply.

I opened it, scanning the elegant script. A charity gala, hosted by Kane Industries.

“Why are you giving me this?”

“Consider it an opportunity,” he said. “There will be people there who believe in supporting small businesses like yours. It’s a chance to secure your shop’s future on your terms.”

His words were carefully chosen, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this than he was letting on.

“I’ll think about it,” I said finally.

He nodded, his gaze lingering on me for a moment before he turned to leave.

As the bell jingled behind him, I looked down at the invitation in my hands. My family’s legacy was on the line, and I was torn between my fierce independence and the growing fear that I couldn’t do this alone.

For the first time, I wasn’t sure what the right choice was.