Every instinct screamed at her to tell him to get lost, but a powerful current of curiosity pulled her in. With a deep breath, she unfasted the lock and opened the door, but only a crack, just enough to see him clearly. He was utterly out of place in the shabby hallway, in her building, in her entire world.

— «I don’t know you,» she stated, her voice flat.

His expression remained impassive.

— «No. But you met my son.»

Chloe’s heart skipped a beat. She reassessed him now, noting how his large frame seemed to consume the entire doorway, how his coat was still damp from the rain, yet his expensive leather shoes were somehow pristine. This was a man who moved through the world on a different plane. This was wealth. This was power. The kind that could ruin a person without ever raising a voice. Her grip on the door tightened.

— «Leo,» she said, the name a statement, not a question. «You’re his father.»

He gave a nod so slight it was barely a motion.

— «I was in my car across the street.»

The chill in her bones sharpened into ice.

— «You were watching us.»

— «I was.»

Chloe exhaled sharply through her nose.

— «So, what is this? You’re here to complain because I gave your kid a free sandwich?»

— «No.» Elias’s gaze was intense, unreadable. «I am here because I do not believe in acts of charity. I do, however, believe in settling my accounts.»

And without another word, he reached into his coat, produced a thick manila envelope, and placed it squarely on the small, wobbly table just inside her doorway. Chloe stared at it, her body rigid. The envelope itself looked expensive, made of a heavy, cream-colored stock. It had weight. Whatever was inside was significant. She swallowed hard.

— «What is that?»

— «A job offer.»

Chloe’s mind screeched to a halt. She looked from the envelope to his face.

— «A what?»

Elias tilted his head, a minute gesture, as if he were calculating the precise amount of patience he was willing to expend on this conversation.

— «A position. At Vance Tower. Executive level. Six-figure salary, full benefits, and a signing bonus.»

A sharp, disbelieving laugh burst from her.

— «You’re out of your mind. You think you can just show up here, offer me a job, and that makes us even for a grilled cheese?»

Elias didn’t even flinch.

— «I don’t think you want a handout, Chloe. Which is why I am not offering one.»

Hearing her name spoken in his low, resonant voice sent an unwelcome shiver down her spine. She crossed her arms defiantly.

— «You don’t know the first thing about me.»

— «I know what is essential.» His voice was as steady and unyielding as granite, the voice of a man who never had to ask for anything because he simply decided how things would be. «I know you offered my son food and shelter without any expectation of reward. I know you treated him with a dignity he rarely receives. I know that such character is exceedingly rare.»

Chloe fought to keep her composure, to ignore the way his words seemed to dislodge something deep inside her. Her eyes fell again to the envelope, to the sheer, impossible weight of it on her cheap table. What would she even do with a job like that?

— «Making coffee for the big boss?» she scoffed.

The corner of Elias’s mouth twitched, the ghost of an expression that might have been amusement before it was suppressed.

— «No. You would be working with me directly. Special projects. Negotiations. You have an innate understanding of people. I have a need for that skill.»

Chloe snorted.

— «You don’t need me. You’ve got a whole tower full of Ivy League prodigies who would probably kill each other for that job.»

For the first time, Elias’s expression softened, just a fraction.

— «That is precisely why I cannot trust them.»

A heavy silence descended between them, charged and expectant. Chloe could feel the gravity of his offer pulling at her, testing the foundations of her pride, her weariness, and her deep-seated refusal to be indebted to anyone. But six figures. A six-figure salary meant an end to late notices, to choosing between bills and food, to the constant, gnawing anxiety of stretching the last twenty dollars until payday. Her mother’s cautionary words echoed in her memory: Never let these people think they own you, baby. They don’t give anything away for free.

Her jaw clenched.

— «Why me? Really.»

Elias held her gaze, and for the first time, she saw a flicker of something raw and unguarded in his eyes.

— «Because you saw my son,» he said, his voice softer now, as if the admission cost him something. «You did not see a name. You did not see an heir. You saw a child.»

Chloe’s throat felt tight. She looked at the envelope one last time, then, with a deep, shaky breath, she picked it up.

— «I’ll consider it,» she heard herself say.

Elias observed her for a long, silent moment, then gave a single, curt nod.

— «Good.»

And without another word, he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the tiled hall. Chloe stood frozen long after he was gone, the impossible weight of the envelope in her hands. She knew, with a certainty that was both terrifying and exhilarating, that she wasn’t just considering it. She was going to accept.

The first day at Vance Tower felt like being transported to an alien planet. It was a world constructed of gleaming chrome, polished marble, and smoked glass, where the very air seemed to hum with the silent, relentless thrum of money and power. Chloe walked through the cavernous lobby in a blazer she’d found on a clearance rack and heels from a thrift store, acutely aware of every set of eyes that followed her progress. This wasn’t the casual notice she was used to; this was a series of rapid, cold evaluations. Calculations. Judgments.

She held her head high and kept her shoulders back. She’d spent her life in places where she was underestimated. She knew how to occupy her space.

Elias Vance was waiting in his office, a vast, minimalist expanse with a floor-to-ceiling panoramic view of the city. His desk was a single, massive slab of polished obsidian that looked more like a modern art installation than a piece of furniture. He didn’t bother to look up as she entered, merely gesturing to the leather chair opposite him.

— «You’re late.»

Chloe raised an eyebrow as she sat.

— «By two minutes.»

Elias finally met her gaze, his gray eyes as sharp as shards of ice.

— «That’s one hundred and twenty seconds of my life I will not get back.»

Chloe let out a slow, deliberate breath. She hadn’t even been in the chair for five seconds, and he was already testing her.

— «Look, do you want me here, or are you just going to bill me for your time?»

He leaned back in his chair, studying her with an unnerving intensity.

— «The jury is still out on that question.»

Before she could form a retort, the frosted glass door slid open and Ava entered, holding a tablet, her expression perfectly neutral. Chloe didn’t miss the way Ava’s gaze swept over her, a quick, dismissive appraisal.

— «Ms. Davis,» Ava said, her voice smooth as silk. «Welcome to Vance Tower.»

Chloe met her look directly, allowing a slow, deliberate smile to form on her lips.

— «It’s good to see you again too, Ms. Jensen.»

A flicker of something—surprise? annoyance?—crossed Ava’s face before she turned her attention back to Elias.

— «Sir, I have the preliminary reports for the Marcus Thorne negotiations.» She handed him the tablet, giving Chloe only a cursory glance. «Shall I bring her up to speed on company security protocols?»

Elias didn’t look up from the screen.

— «No. I will handle her orientation.»

Chloe wasn’t sure if that was a promise or a threat. Ava simply nodded, but as she reached the door, she paused and glanced back at Chloe.

— «Good luck,» she said.

The tone wasn’t encouraging. It was a warning.