Semua Bab Not just a billionaire : Bab 1 - Bab 10

The diner was nearly empty, the kind of quiet that settled over a place after midnight when the city’s chaos dimmed to a tired hum. A radio played something old and jazzy in the background, and the smell of burnt coffee lingered in the air.Lena Carter wiped down a table with practiced indifference, her movements sharp and efficient. Her feet ached, her back screamed, and she still had two hours left on her shift. But rent was due in three days, her little brother’s school fees were overdue, and the tip jar had only a few crumpled singles.“Another night in paradise,” she muttered to herself, tossing the rag over her shoulder.The bell above the door jingled.Lena didn’t look up right away. Probably another drunk businessman wanting a greasy burger to soak up his regret.But then she heard the sound—footsteps not hurried, not clumsy, but slow and confident. Like someone who knew the world owed him something and would never rush to collect it.She turned.He was tall, broad-shouldered,

Lena Carter had survived angry drunk customers, broken espresso machines, and a literal kitchen fire at her old diner job. She thought she could handle anything.That was before she walked into Blackthorne Enterprises at exactly 8:59 AM and was immediately swallowed whole by a sea of glass, tension, and stiletto heels.The receptionist—same woman from yesterday, lips still red and judgmental—gave her a once-over and smirked. “You’re late.”“It’s 8:59.”“It’s your first day,” she said, typing dramatically into her keyboard like she was writing a symphony. “Mr. Blackthorne expects his staff five minutes early. Minimum.”“Noted,” Lena replied, biting back the urge to roll her eyes. She swore this place dripped with perfume, privilege, and passive aggression.She stepped into the elevator, bracing herself. The same men from yesterday were there—suits, ties, zero expression—but now their eyes flicked to her in open confusion. And disapproval.As if someone had brought a street cat into a l

The Monday after the gala felt unreal.Lena’s phone hadn’t stopped buzzing. Pictures from the party had exploded across the internet. Headlines read:“Who’s the Mystery Woman on Rafael Blackthorne’s Arm?”“From Assistant to It Girl? Meet Lena Carter.”“Power Couple in the Making?”Lena groaned and slid deeper into her coffee cup.“Two weeks ago, I was breaking up bar fights and refilling ketchup bottles,” she muttered. “Now I’m being shipped with the most un-dateable billionaire in Manhattan.”At least Rafael hadn’t brought it up—yet.When she walked into the office, however, the mood was… strange.Everyone stared.The front desk girl, the interns, even Vivienne—whose eyes sliced across the room like knives dipped in Chanel No. 5.“Morning,” Lena said, trying to stay breezy.No one answered.Vivienne smiled, tight-lipped. “Mr. Blackthorne’s in his office.”Lena blinked. “You’re… being polite.”“Don’t get used to it, darling.”That definitely wasn’t creepy at all.She took a deep breat

Lena hadn’t been back to the South Bronx in years.Not since the night her stepfather was arrested. Not since the cops dragged her mother away, screaming about bills and betrayal. And definitely not since she ran—fast and far—until her name meant nothing and her past was buried under new jobs, new zip codes, and the lie she told herself every morning:You’re safe now.But now, here she was—heels clicking on cracked pavement, oversized hoodie hiding a designer bracelet, and Rafael Blackthorne’s sleek black town car idling at the curb.It was supposed to be a quiet visit to her aunt’s place. Just for the weekend.But nothing in her life was quiet anymore.Especially not when Tyson showed up.“Lena?” a deep voice called behind her.She turned—and her blood ran cold.Same hard jaw. Same tattoo on his neck. Same dangerous smirk.“Ty,” she whispered. “You’re out?”“Six months early,” he said, stepping closer. “Good behavior.”He looked her up and down. “You look… expensive.”She crossed her

Lena hadn’t expected the world to implode over one photo.But by morning, her name was everywhere. News sites, gossip blogs, even business headlines were plastered with a single story:“Rafael Blackthorne’s fiancée has a record?”The picture was from years ago, taken during the worst week of her life. She had been nineteen, broke, scared, and trying to get her brother out of trouble after he got mixed up with the wrong people. No charges had ever been filed. No wrongdoing. But to the public? It didn’t matter.Because the world didn’t want facts. It wanted scandal.She sat on the floor of Rafael’s penthouse, laptop open, scrolling through headlines that made her stomach churn.“From waitress to wildcard fiancée, who is Lena Carter?”“Blackthorne heir blindsided by girlfriend’s criminal past?”“Is this a love story or a long con?”Lena slammed the laptop shut.Rafael walked in just in time to hear it snap.“You shouldn’t be reading those.”“I wanted to know how bad it is.”He knelt in f