The Billionaire's Cold Heart

m

s. My phone buzzed with its usual 6:00 a.m. alarm, vibrating against th

footsteps of my neighbor's early morning routine above me. My apartment was freezing,

ceiling. Plaster peeling. Water stained in one corner. It

rt

due in

ded under my pillow for warmth. The floor was cold, but at

nto a dented frying pan. The toast burned on one side because my toaster only worked when I slammed

inutes to breathe be

yself I was

l tr

a woman singing softly into her headphones. Same routine. Same route. I watched th

so machine hissed. Plates clattered. Chef Benoît was screaming in Frenc

d me. They ne

pe stood out so much wh

eft it the night before, but now it felt he

d at it

er. Top floor. A

I didn't need to chase whatever this was. But after another long shi

was exhausted. Not ph

cked coffee mug. The same knot in my

m a thrift store. I pulled my hair into a clean low bun and applied masca

thedral of glass an

questions, just my name, and th

one made my

o buttons, only a fingerprint scanner and a glowi

pened on th

here

an V

led. His gray eyes met mine like we'd never been str

ame,"

sure if

you

ting for me. I followed, heels e

sleek, cold, expensive. All glass walls and

lik

ng area where a slim f

lowering himself into one of the chairs.

tanding. "

ver I

shaky. "You don

hind on rent. You work double shifts. Your mother died in a p

ened. "You inv

roug

sed to make me fe

. S

on't even feel li

lat. "But I can make your

e file. "And w

onesty. And

ean co

st slightly. "Call

him, if only to steady

e you don't know what

e file, then sl

he contract

. Alone on the front steps, s

ed. "How did

e reso

ld you w

rectly at me

ou long before y

d. "That sounds

s tr

pounding. "Th

into my world. Now you'll

chimed soft

e. But his voice

ow. That was the only tim