The Poorest Billionaire free download pdf

Ava Monroe gripped the cardboard box tight against her chest, her fingers aching from the weight-not of the things inside, but of what it meant.

She was officially homeless.

Rain spattered the cracked sidewalk as she stood beneath the broken awning of her now-former apartment building. Her landlord hadn't even given her the decency of a final warning. He'd simply shrugged, muttered something about bills being bills, and changed the lock while she'd been at work.

She had nowhere to go.

Ava looked down at the contents of the box: two worn sweaters, a curling iron that hadn't worked in months, and the single photo she had left of her mother. Everything else she'd sold or left behind. She had exactly twenty-three dollars in her wallet, zero credit, and even less pride.

Her stomach growled, but she ignored it. Again.

Pulling the hood of her thin coat over her head, she turned and walked. Not toward safety, because there was none. Just away.

Julian Blackwell didn't do late nights unless they were necessary-and tonight, unfortunately, was.

He stepped out of the back of his sleek black car, ignoring the drizzle and nodding to his driver. He hated this neighborhood, hated the noise, the smell, the chaos of it. But the new property deal required a personal walkthrough. No delegate. No excuses.

He was about to enter the building when something caught his eye.

Or rather, someone.

A woman-soaked through, hunched under a faded gray hoodie, dragging a cardboard box along the wet sidewalk. Her walk was slow, almost defeated.

Julian paused. Something about the shape of her shoulders felt familiar. Then she looked up briefly, and he froze.

"Ava?"

She stopped like a deer caught in headlights. Her wide hazel eyes locked with his, full of alarm. Then humiliation.

"Mr. Blackwell," she said quickly, her voice tight. She tried to shift the box to her other hip and forced a smile. "Sorry. Just passing through."

Julian stepped forward. "Are you... living out here?"

She laughed softly. "No, I just enjoy dragging all my worldly belongings through the rain. It's a new cardio program."

He didn't smile.

"Ava," he said, slower now. "What happened?"

Her mouth opened, then closed. She wasn't used to him using her name. Or showing any real interest. She'd worked as his assistant for seven months, answering his calls, managing his calendar, and generally trying not to breathe too loudly in his presence. Julian Blackwell was many things-billionaire CEO, ruthless negotiator, the kind of man who wore silence like armor-but he wasn't kind.

And yet... he was looking at her differently now. Not like she was invisible.

"My landlord kicked me out," she said finally. "Apparently electricity and food are luxuries. And I guess so is shelter."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" he asked.

"Because it's none of your business," she snapped.

Then, regretting the tone, she added, "I'm fine."

He stared at her for a beat too long. Then, to her shock, he held out a hand.

"Come with me."

Ava blinked. "What?"

"It's late. And it's raining. I'm not letting one of my employees sleep on the street."

"I'm not your problem."

"You're under my payroll, and currently on my sidewalk. That makes you my problem."

"I'll figure something out."

"Let me guess-twenty-three dollars in your pocket, maybe a couch to crash on with someone who barely tolerates you, and an application to three more minimum-wage jobs tomorrow that won't call you back."

Ava's jaw clenched. "Screw you."

Julian didn't flinch. "Get in the car, Ava."

She should have refused. Should've told him to go to hell and walked away with whatever dignity she had left.

But her feet moved anyway.