《Innocent Love》


 Chapter First

    Oh my god. Stop staring. Immediately.


    "Stop undressing him with your eyes." Shit! She caught me again, gawking at her brother. But what can I do? He''s mesmerizing. Tall and broad-shouldered, his every movement radiates strength. The flexing muscles beneath his shirt could make any woman weak. His long, dark brown hair is tied back, yet it gleams like silk under the sunlight. I''ve never touched it, but I imagine it''s soft, smoother than anything I''ve ever known. My fingers ache to reach out, to explore every inch of him.


    Not today. Not ever.


    Then, as if sensing my gaze, he pauses. His dark green eyes flick around the room, scanning the windows. My heart skips. Is he looking for me? But no. His attention shifts back to his task, indifferent. Again, he doesn''t see me. Disappointment floods my chest, heavy and familiar.


    He lied. He betrayed.


    "No, I''m just out here for some fresh air," I stammer, avoiding Jessie''s smirk. "Admiring the flowers."


    "Oh, sure," she snorts. "And the handsome bee buzzing around them?" Jessie knows everything. Every glance, every sigh. She sees right through me when it comes to her brother.


    Ronald.


    He''s been the axis of my world for as long as I can remember. Ever since his family came to work for us when I was five, he''s been... everything. That first day, he stood tall beside his mother, his piercing green eyes meeting mine, and my world tilted. His mother, Mrs. Laura, became our head cook, and his father, Mr. Carlo, took care of the garden. But Ronald... Ronald became my friend. My first friend. Maybe my only real one. His presence felt like a secret just for me.


    Mrs. Laura, though, has always despised me. Her sharp eyes track my every move when I''m near her son. When no one''s around, she scolds him in hushed but vicious tones. Mr. Carlo, on the other hand, is kind. Like a second father. He''d hand me a flower every morning with a warm smile and a "Have a good day, Miss Rose."


    But Ronald? He''s a storm. An irresistible, overwhelming force. I''ve seen the way other girls throw themselves at him. The looks they give, the whispers that follow him wherever he goes. It drives me mad. But deep down, I know¡ªor I hope¡ªthat he''s mine. Different social classes be damned. Love doesn''t care about wealth or status. It sees the heart and soul, ready to bleed for its truth.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Shit, you''re overthinking again," Jessie teases, jerking her chin toward the gate. Two girls in skimpy outfits are ogling Ronald. I''d claw their eyes out if I could. But instead, I say nothing, gripping the edge of the bench.


    "You should tell him, you know," Jessie prods.


    "Tell him what? And who''s ''him''?" My heart leaps into my throat at the sound of his voice. Ronald is standing right behind us. How long has he been there? My cheeks burn as I realize I''ve been caught again.


    "Tell you that she''s in love with you," Jessie blurts out, grinning like the devil. My stomach plummets. Oh no. No, no, no.


    "Jessie, can you..." Ronald''s voice trails off as Jessie winks and saunters away, leaving us alone. His footsteps draw closer, and I freeze. My palms are clammy, my heart pounding. His warmth radiates behind me, the scent of him¡ªearthy and intoxicating¡ªfilling my senses.


    "My little Rosee," he murmurs. The nickname¡ªRosee Posee¡ªpulls me back to childhood memories of him teasing me mercilessly. He''d tug my hair, make me cry, then hand me chocolate to make up for it. He was my protector, my tormentor, my everything.


    I''ve spent years longing for him, enduring the pain of watching him with other girls, knowing he''d never be mine. But now, as he''s so close, the ache intensifies.


    "I''m here to invite you to my birthday party," I say, thrusting the invitation toward him without turning around. If I face him, he''ll see the tears threatening to fall.


    "Eighteen," he muses, his voice low. "You''re all grown up."


    "Like you forgot." My voice is sharp, a defense against the vulnerability threatening to overwhelm me.


    "Rose..."


    "Please don''t," I whisper. "It''s my birthday. Let it be a happy day." But before I can move away, he grips my arm gently, turning me to face him. His green eyes burn into mine, and I''m lost.


    "Tell me we''re the same," he pleads. "That this is just a misunderstanding. I''m yours, Rosee. Always have been."


    Liar.


    "Misunderstanding?" I laugh bitterly. "I saw you with her."


    "And I saw you with him." His voice is a whisper, his lips so close to mine that I can feel his breath. My resolve wavers, but before I can respond, a sharp voice cuts through the air.


    "What the hell is going on here?" Mrs. Laura''s fury shatters the moment. Ronald steps back, guilt shadowing his face. Her glare pierces me, filled with venom.


    "Miss Rose, your mother is looking for you," she snaps. "And I''ve told you to stay away from my son. Stop throwing yourself at him."


    Her words slice through me, but Ronald says nothing. He''s silent, a puppet in her hands. My chest tightens as I realize, yet again, that he''ll never stand up for me. For us.


    I pull my arm free from his grip, stepping away. His silence is louder than any words.


    Some battles aren''t worth fighting. And some loves are too broken to mend.

 Chapter Two

    "Mom!"


    "Here, my girl." My mom, Mrs. Lilly, is working on my birthday party. She''s a beautiful and stunningly growing woman. We''re very similar in appearance, though not in our thoughts. She hates the Parker family, which means Ronald''s family.


    My mom is an entrepreneur. She loves flowers; that''s why she started a business with her own perfume line. When I was a child, my mind was always curious about flowers, and now I''m thinking of taking one step further in the perfume business. But my dad says, "You need to complete your studies first."


    "Mom, I told you I wanted a simple party, but this is..." There is so much decoration and so many guests. I told my mom I wanted just my friends, but she invited the whole college. She doesn''t like to show off, but this is her way of showing love for me.


    "This is what? Oh, come on, my girl, it''s not a big deal. It''s better for you to take it as a habit because..." Oh, there she goes again, giving me lectures about parties and class society.


    Blah blah.


    "Lilly, you''re talking to walls," my mom stops talking at my dad''s voice. She narrows her eyes on me and raises her brows.


    "Dad, please don''t. And by the way, where''s my gift?" Dad comes forward and kisses my head. His warm smell of love is always pure and blessed.


    "Happy birthday, my little Rosee Posee. This is for you." Oh, my god.


    "Dad, I don''t... I can''t thank you." He gave me my own car. Seriously. My feet start bouncing.


    "Carter, you can''t. She needs to learn."


    "Mom, I know how to drive. Dad already taught me." Mom never knew that Dad gave me secret lessons about the car. Here, she is shocked.


    "Carter, you''re giving her too much." She grabs my car keys, but my dad snatches them back and gives them to me. Without listening to them, I run to where my car is parked. It''s a beautiful BMW.


    "Dad!" I shout with full force, and both look at me.


    "I love you." They both smile, and I know Mom is faking it because, deep down, she loves me.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    Later, when night comes, my party is already in full swing. Music, dancing, food, and, of course, drinks. My friends and classmates are here, but Jessie and Ronald haven''t shown up. My eyes are always on the door. There are so many wishes and gifts, and the best gift comes from my friend Annie.


    She is my best friend. Since I started school, she has been by my side, and now we''re in college. She''s like family.


    After saying goodbye to all my friends, I take two plates of cake and send a message to Jessie.


    Me: Cake! I want to eat. (Attach photo)


    Jessie: Hell yes! God, you''re my savior.


    Me: Coming to open your window.


    It''s our secret that, late at night, she comes to my room or I go to hers. Sometimes we study, and sometimes we just talk. Dad knows about me and Jessie. Unlike Mom, he never stops us. But when Ronald is involved, things are different. He''d spend nights in my arms. We''d talk and kiss, but he never took it further. I wanted him, but now there''s nothing between us.


    It''s early winter, and the cold wind gives me shivers. I stumble with the plates while climbing. I knock on her window, and she opens it. But before helping me, she snatches the plates from my hands.


    "Hey, that''s not fair!" But she''s already gone.


    "Help yourself," she whispers aloud. It''s dark in her house; everyone is asleep. Ronald is asleep.


    "You missed my party." She stops eating.


    "You know, Mrs. Laura... I hate her. She tries to control our lives, and she''s doing a great job with Ronald. He''s blind to it." Her anger is plain on her face. Everything about it feels wrong.


    "It''s fine. But I missed you both." While she eats, I sit on her bed and try to call Ronald. He doesn''t pick up. It''s my birthday, and I''m still waiting for a wish from him. Hate or love, he''s my first. But today, he''s not around, and I know he''s gone off somewhere with friends or girls.


    I stop calling and sit there, just waiting. Every second feels heavy. He doesn''t come home. My eyes are on the door, but nothing.


    After leaving Jessie, I walk toward home. Someone grabs my elbow and stops me. I turn, and there he is¡ªRonald. But he''s bleeding. His face is swollen, and blood drips from his mouth.


    "Ron. What happened? You''re... bleeding." He hisses in pain as my hand lands on his cheek. God, he''s bruised and swollen.


    "It''s nothing; just a fight." He steps back, breaking the warmth of my touch.


    "You''re hurt."


    "You''re hurting me more." His words cut deeper than any wound I could see. Watching him kiss someone else, seeing him with other girls, hearing his lies¡ªthose wounds sting worse than this.


    "Here, happy birthday, Rose." He''s never called me just Rose before. It stings.


    "Thank you."


    "I... I saw you from the window. You looked happy without me." Never. Open your eyes, please.


    "Yeah, it''s my birthday, and you know how my mom is..." Before I finish, he grabs my face between his hands and rests his forehead against mine.


    "It hurts, you ignoring me, leaving me alone. Don''t put distance between us. Don''t kill me with your hate." His pain is unbearable.


    "I love you, my Rosee Posee. I can''t live without you. Let''s go somewhere, just you and me. I promise you¡ªno regrets." A single tear falls to the ground. He doesn''t understand; forgetting that night is impossible.


    Suddenly, he collapses to the ground.


    "How dare you touch my daughter with your dirty hands?"

 Chapter Three

    "Mom!"


    It''s my mom. She slaps Ronald on the cheek, and he cries out in pain. She''s so angry. Oh god, she heard everything. Maybe.


    "How dare you?"


    "Mom, it''s nothing. I..."


    "Don''t you dare, Rose! Stop defending him." I ignore her and help Ronald. He looks more hurt.


    "Ma''am, please..." Before he finishes, Mom slaps him again. Oh no. I''m scared now. It''s not like my mom has never slapped someone before.


    "Mom, don''t, please. Listen to me." I need to cover everything before the worst happens. Mom steps forward again, and before she reaches Ronald, I stand in front of him like a shield.


    "Rose, I can handle it. Let me¡ª"


    "Oh, now you''re going to handle it? First, handle yourself. See your class. You''re just a servant. You touched my daughter with your dirty hands."


    "Mom! Stop!" I cry out. How dare she insult him? But Mom keeps yelling at him, and my Ron just stands there silently, taking it all. Then, the house door bursts open, and his parents come outside.


    This is the end. I know it. My heart screams that something terrible is going to happen. My eyes land on Ron. He''s scared too. He wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me close like a protector.


    "Rose, please don''t leave me." He feels it too.


    "Not until my last breath."


    "What''s going on here?" Ron''s mom''s eyes search for answers.


    "Your dirty boy touched my daughter with his filthy hands. I''ve given you enough warnings, but now I think we need to take action against him." No. Mom grabs me, but Ron doesn''t let go.


    "Can we talk calmly? We need to think," Mr. Parker tries to interject.


    "Don''t tell me what to do! Your blood is just like his family." What does that even mean?


    "Mom, stop insulting people!" My anger boils over. Why does she say these things?


    "Ma''am, I love your daughter, and I''d never harm her. She loves me too." But Mom ignores him and pulls me harder. In the struggle, my bracelet snaps, and something digs into my skin.


    "Stop it! You''re hurting her. If you don''t¡ª"


    "Then what?" Her grip tightens. Blood trickles from my wound.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    "You''re hurting her, Lilly. Stop now!" Everyone freezes at Dad''s voice. Thank God.


    "Ronald, go home. Laura and Carlo, come inside. Rose, go to your room and stay there until I tell you otherwise. Got it?" Ronald''s eyes meet mine, and he nods reluctantly.


    "Okay, Dad." But Mom drags me inside. As she pulls me, my hand slips from his grasp like life slipping away.


    Why do I feel like this is the last time I''ll see him? He''s everything to me. I can''t live without him. But Mom and Dad are going to talk. What about? I know Dad will try to calm things down, but Mom... she''s aiming for the worst.


    An hour passes. They''re still talking¡ªno, fighting. So much talking is happening in Dad''s office, and I''m just sitting here crying like a baby. I''m more worried about Ronald. What if Mom forces his family to...?


    My thoughts always prove right, and that''s why I hate them. I can''t sit here doing nothing. Slowly, with light footsteps, I approach Dad''s office. Muffled voices seep through the door.


    "Careful, Laura, with what you''re saying. If you repeat that..."


    "Or what? No one knows the truth. If it comes out, your life will be hell." It''s Mrs. Laura. What truth? What are they talking about? Gently, I push the door open a crack.


    The words hit me like a storm. Every word is a bitter truth. The truth is dark, hard to believe, and impossible to accept. If everyone knew what they''re hiding... But now, I know too. Me, Ronald, and Jessie¡ªhow? Why? My legs feel weak, and I collapse to the floor.


    "No! This can''t be true. How much more are they hiding?" My body shakes with shock. I can''t breathe.


    "I need to tell him. He needs to know. But is he strong enough to handle it?" My sobs grow louder, and I cover my mouth to stifle the sound.


    "I need to tell him the truth."


    "Oh no, you don''t." Someone pulls me away.


    The next morning, I sit in bed, listening to their voices. They''re leaving. He''s leaving because of me. He''s leaving me alone and empty. Everyone played their part; now it''s my turn. All night, my phone vibrated with his name flashing on the screen. Today, the wall between us grows stronger because of me.


    I''m going to hurt him in a way he''ll never forget. He''s going to hate me. The corner where I cried all night is still wet with tears. I know he''s shouting my name. He wants me, but I can''t. Be brave, Rosee Posee. For him. Shaking, I remember all our dreams¡ªdreams now shattered.


    Today, they''ll break forever. For family. For us. I stand, gathering all the courage I have, and walk out of my room.


    "I need her. I''m not leaving without hearing from her. You''re lying!" Ronald shouts at my parents. His parents try to pull him away.


    "Leave me! I said leave me!" Then, our eyes meet. Relief washes over him¡ªa relief I don''t deserve.


    "Rose, tell them they''re lying. Your mom said this was a plan, that you were just playing with my heart."


    Nothing comes from my mouth.


    "Rose, you love me, right? It''s true love. Tell them! Prove me right."


    Nothing.


    "Rose! Speak up." He yells.


    Nothing.


    "Ronald, my boy, I told you she doesn''t deserve you. She''s playing with your feelings." He looks at me, still waiting for an answer. I keep my mouth shut. He''ll never understand the storm raging in my heart.


    "She''s right," I finally say. "I just played with your heart. Look at you; you''re nothing in front of me. No place, no job, nothing. How could you even think about me? You''re nothing to me."


    "Look at me and say that. Look. In. My. Eyes." His black-green eyes bore into mine. They warn me that hate is building in his heart.


    "You''re nothing to me. And I think you should leave."


    He nods, laughing bitterly. He stops, his laughter turning to anger.


    "Mom, you''re right. She''s just a cold-hearted bitch." Laura smiles triumphantly, but Mr. Parker looks hurt.


    "See? I warned you."


    "Get out of my house!" Dad shouts. But Ronald grabs me by the throat, his grip tight.


    "Pray that our paths never cross again. If they do, wish for your death, because I''ll make your life a living hell. You''ll beg for death." He releases me, and I fall to the ground, shattering into pieces.


    Love. Life. Heart. Pain. Ronald.

 Chapter Four

    Ten Years Later


    Time is running out.


    Why is this taking so long? Everything has been going smoothly. Today should have been a celebration. Inside, I can hear muffled voices¡ªconversations I''m not part of. My eyes fixate on the door, each second feeling like a lifetime.


    Outside, rain pours relentlessly, and the night grows colder, shrouding the world in darkness. My bus will leave soon. I don''t care if anyone notices me standing here, waiting. All that matters is that door.


    One of my eyes, reflected faintly in the glass, looks at me with accusation. It''s become a habit¡ªto see blame in my own reflection. Rose might be popular elsewhere, but not here. Here, I am the girl who ruins lives.


    I don''t care.


    I''m not afraid.


    The door creaks open, and a girl steps out, clutching a clipboard. My breath catches. Please, let my name be there. She begins reading aloud, her voice sharp against the dull roar of the rain.


    "Alright, everyone, I''ll call out names. If I call yours, come stand with me."


    My heart pounds like a drum. This is it. My chance. My escape.


    She starts listing names. One by one, they step forward. But not me. My name isn''t called.


    No.


    "Excuse me!" I shout, my voice trembling with desperation. She stops, turning to glare at me.


    "Yes?"


    "My interview went really well. I was told I was the top candidate. Why wasn''t I selected?" I ask, my voice faltering. Hope teeters on the edge of despair.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    She smirks, her words cutting deep. "Rose, you know why. You should be grateful we even let you in for an interview. Please leave. We don''t want any trouble."


    Trouble. The word echoes in my mind. I''ve been called worse. A witch. A curse. A pariah. Every insult feels the same now¡ªheavy and inescapable.


    The others stand quietly, some avoiding my gaze. I grab my belongings and step out into the storm without another word.


    The rain feels like needles against my skin, soaking through my thin jacket. My patched-up boots squelch with every step as I trudge down the road. The last bus is gone. Fifteen kilometers to walk. I''ve done it before.


    But hunger gnaws at my stomach. Three days since my last meal. My steps falter, my breath ragged. Memories flood back, unbidden. Mom leaving for another man. Dad disappearing into death¡ªor something worse. That night. That cursed night that changed everything.


    They called me a witch. They still do.


    The shack I call home comes into view. The graffiti on the wall greets me: Slut. Painted in thick black strokes. The word stares back at me, defiant and permanent.


    Inside, the air reeks of mildew and despair. The cracked walls barely hold up against the elements. My bed¡ªa pile of old, damp blankets¡ªoffers no comfort. A table with mismatched cups and a broken chair complete my palace.


    As I close the door behind me, a sharp knock startles me. My breath catches.


    "Who''s there?" I call out, my voice shaky.


    "It''s me, child," comes a familiar voice.


    Father Anthony.


    Relief washes over me as I open the door. He steps inside, followed by Mother Kerry. They''re the only people who''ve ever shown me kindness.


    "How was the interview?" Father Anthony asks gently.


    I lower my gaze, unable to answer. He sighs deeply, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Don''t worry, child. One day, the truth will come out. Until then, stay strong."


    Mother Kerry stays silent, her usual warm smile replaced by something colder, almost resigned. Something is wrong.


    "When was the last time you ate?" Father Anthony asks.


    "Tuesday," I admit hesitantly.


    "Tuesday?" His voice rises in disbelief. Mother Kerry looks away, her hands clenching her shawl.


    "I''ll bring you some food," he says, rising to leave. As he steps out, I hear their whispered conversation.


    "She''s a danger to us, Father. People threatened us today because of her. We can''t keep doing this."


    "We can''t abandon her. She has no one else."


    "She''s not safe. What if the rumors are true? What if she really is cursed?"


    My heart sinks. Even they doubt me.


    Even they think I''m the problem.

 Chapter Five

    Ten Years Later


    Time is running out.


    Why is this taking so long? Everything has been going smoothly. Today should have been a celebration. Inside, I can hear muffled voices¡ªconversations I''m not part of. My eyes fixate on the door, each second feeling like a lifetime.


    Outside, rain pours relentlessly, and the night grows colder, shrouding the world in darkness. My bus will leave soon. I don''t care if anyone notices me standing here, waiting. All that matters is that door.


    One of my eyes, reflected faintly in the glass, looks at me with accusation. It''s become a habit¡ªto see blame in my own reflection. Rose might be popular elsewhere, but not here. Here, I am the girl who ruins lives.


    I don''t care.


    I''m not afraid.


    The door creaks open, and a girl steps out, clutching a clipboard. My breath catches. Please, let my name be there. She begins reading aloud, her voice sharp against the dull roar of the rain.


    "Alright, everyone, I''ll call out names. If I call yours, come stand with me."


    My heart pounds like a drum. This is it. My chance. My escape.


    She starts listing names. One by one, they step forward. But not me. My name isn''t called.


    No.


    "Excuse me!" I shout, my voice trembling with desperation. She stops, turning to glare at me.


    "Yes?"


    "My interview went really well. I was told I was the top candidate. Why wasn''t I selected?" I ask, my voice faltering. Hope teeters on the edge of despair.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    She smirks, her words cutting deep. "Rose, you know why. You should be grateful we even let you in for an interview. Please leave. We don''t want any trouble."


    Trouble. The word echoes in my mind. I''ve been called worse. A witch. A curse. A pariah. Every insult feels the same now¡ªheavy and inescapable.


    The others stand quietly, some avoiding my gaze. I grab my belongings and step out into the storm without another word.


    The rain feels like needles against my skin, soaking through my thin jacket. My patched-up boots squelch with every step as I trudge down the road. The last bus is gone. Fifteen kilometers to walk. I''ve done it before.


    But hunger gnaws at my stomach. Three days since my last meal. My steps falter, my breath ragged. Memories flood back, unbidden. Mom leaving for another man. Dad disappearing into death¡ªor something worse. That night. That cursed night that changed everything.


    They called me a witch. They still do.


    The shack I call home comes into view. The graffiti on the wall greets me: Slut. Painted in thick black strokes. The word stares back at me, defiant and permanent.


    Inside, the air reeks of mildew and despair. The cracked walls barely hold up against the elements. My bed¡ªa pile of old, damp blankets¡ªoffers no comfort. A table with mismatched cups and a broken chair complete my palace.


    As I close the door behind me, a sharp knock startles me. My breath catches.


    "Who''s there?" I call out, my voice shaky.


    "It''s me, child," comes a familiar voice.


    Father Anthony.


    Relief washes over me as I open the door. He steps inside, followed by Mother Kerry. They''re the only people who''ve ever shown me kindness.


    "How was the interview?" Father Anthony asks gently.


    I lower my gaze, unable to answer. He sighs deeply, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Don''t worry, child. One day, the truth will come out. Until then, stay strong."


    Mother Kerry stays silent, her usual warm smile replaced by something colder, almost resigned. Something is wrong.


    "When was the last time you ate?" Father Anthony asks.


    "Tuesday," I admit hesitantly.


    "Tuesday?" His voice rises in disbelief. Mother Kerry looks away, her hands clenching her shawl.


    "I''ll bring you some food," he says, rising to leave. As he steps out, I hear their whispered conversation.


    "She''s a danger to us, Father. People threatened us today because of her. We can''t keep doing this."


    "We can''t abandon her. She has no one else."


    "She''s not safe. What if the rumors are true? What if she really is cursed?"


    My heart sinks. Even they doubt me.


    Even they think I''m the problem.

 Chapter Six

    The looming structure in front of me is daunting¡ªfifty floors of gleaming, pitch-black glass streaked with tiny beads of moisture from the morning mist. My stomach churns as I stare at it. What have I done? Accepting Olivia''s offer late last night might be the worst decision I''ve ever made.


    Please help me, Dad.


    Clutching my bag, I adjust my plain professional outfit. It''s the best I have, but it feels laughably inadequate next to the expensive suits bustling around me. The morning commute swarms with purpose-driven individuals entering and exiting towering buildings, their confidence palpable. How do I even approach someone here? Do I need an appointment? Olivia''s instructions were clear: floor 38, immediately. But unease gnaws at me as I feel eyes on me. They''re judging. My attire. My presence. My very being. What if they know who I am?


    Oh God.


    I lower my gaze and step inside, avoiding all eye contact. The hum of conversations swirls around me like whispers in the wind. I dart to the elevator, my heart pounding as the doors close and I''m finally alone. The ascent is both too fast and too slow, each passing floor tightening the knot in my stomach. By the time the elevator dings open, I''m breathless.


    The floor is stunning. Words catch in my throat. The marble glistens under dim, elegant lighting, white and red blending into a sophisticated symphony. Priceless paintings adorn the walls. Rows of sleek couches line one side, while gleaming trophies dominate the other. "Business of the Year," among others. Whoever runs this place is clearly a force to be reckoned with.


    And then there she is¡ªOlivia. She sits by herself near a set of double doors, looking up as I approach. Her face lights up with a smile.


    "Finally! I''m free." She rushes over and wraps me in a tight hug. I freeze. Physical affection is foreign to me, but she doesn''t seem to notice.


    "I''m joking," she says with a laugh, stepping back. "Come, sit."


    We talk as she walks me through office protocols. There''s a lot to learn¡ªinnovative systems, cutting-edge technology, all of it overwhelming. Olivia navigates it effortlessly, her confidence contagious. She makes me feel at ease as the day unfolds. Her boss is away on business, she explains, and it''s a rare reprieve.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    "He''s a machine," she says, almost with awe. "Never stops. But make no mistake, he''s merciless. One slip-up, and you''re out." Her voice lowers conspiratorially. "His mother runs the company from the shadows, the most formidable woman you''ll ever meet. And his girlfriend?" She sneers. "A gold digger, through and through."


    Her tone turns serious. "Don''t cross him. Don''t argue. And whatever you do, don''t fall for him. He''ll chew you up and spit you out."


    I''m not sure what to say, so I just nod. She slides a list across the table.


    "Here are his daily requirements. You''ll be with him 24/7. Your life? Forget it. It''s all about him now."


    She''s rushing through her explanations, glancing at the clock. I raise an eyebrow. "You''re in a hurry."


    She stops, sighs, and spins to face me. "Yes. I need to get out of here. He''s a rock between me and my boyfriend. I''m always working, never free. I despise him."


    Her outburst surprises me, but I offer a calming smile. "I understand. Relax."


    She exhales and squeezes my hands. "You''re perfect for this job. Just promise me, don''t fall for him. He has no heart."


    Neither do witches.


    The week is a blur. Olivia guides me through the office, though she keeps me away from her boss''s workspace. I learn about his preferences, his schedule, and his reputation. By week''s end, Olivia''s gifted me a car and a key to a luxurious apartment.


    When I step inside, I''m overwhelmed. The spacious interior, the designer furnishings¡ªit''s a far cry from my old life. Tears well in my eyes. Dreams I never dared to dream have come true.


    The next day, Olivia helps me shop for decor, and together we transform the apartment into a home. By Monday, I''m ready for work. I dress carefully in a knee-length skirt and a soft pink blouse, my hair neatly tied in a bun. Olivia''s advice echoes in my mind: No open hair. He hates it.


    I stand before the mirror, taking in my reflection. Confidence radiates from me. My once-slim figure now boasts curves I''ve grown to love. For the first time, I feel ready.


    The office is abuzz when I arrive. Tension crackles in the air as people rush about, murmuring nervously. I grab a coffee and head to my desk, the list of his preferences in hand. My heart races as I knock on his office door. No response. I knock again. Still nothing. After a moment''s hesitation, I push the door open.


    The space takes my breath away. Black and white elements blend seamlessly, the d¨¦cor exuding power and precision. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame a misty view of New York, the soft light filtering through like a halo. My hand brushes the glass as I move toward it, marveling at the beauty.


    Then I see him.


    A shadow shifts near the far wall. He stands by another glass panel, his back to me, broad shoulders outlined in sharp relief.


    "You''re late." His voice cuts through the silence, smooth but icy. My knees buckle. The coffee cup slips from my grasp and shatters.


    I freeze. He turns.


    The world stops. Our eyes lock.


    "What the hell are you doing here?"

 Chapter Seven

    The sharpness in his voice reverberates through me, a chilling echo of a past I''ve worked so hard to forget. I''m paralyzed, my mind a battlefield of memories and emotions I thought I''d buried forever. The shattered coffee cup feels symbolic¡ªeverything neat and contained in my life now broken and spilling out for him to see.


    "Mr. Ronald..." My voice is barely audible, trembling as I force the words out. The title tastes foreign on my tongue. His gaze narrows, a storm brewing in those forest-green eyes that once felt like home. Now, they''re darker, colder¡ªa warning.


    "I asked you a question, Rose." The way he says my name¡ªsharp, clipped¡ªsends shivers down my spine. It''s not how he used to say it.


    "I... I don''t know what you mean," I stammer, feeling like prey under his intense scrutiny.


    Before the weight of his fury can crush me, Olivia''s voice pierces through the tension like a lifeline. "Mr. Ronald, I''m sorry to interrupt." She steps into the room, her simple attire a stark contrast to the tension crackling in the air. Her calm, composed demeanor seems almost surreal against the storm brewing between us.


    Ronald''s eyes dart between us, suspicion laced with barely contained rage. "Olivia, where the hell are your papers? And why is she standing here?"


    "She''s your new secretary," Olivia states firmly, though I catch the brief flicker of an apologetic glance in my direction. "I''ve submitted my resignation."


    His jaw clenches, the muscle in his cheek twitching as he processes her words. "I don''t recall signing any resignation letter." His voice is a growl now, low and dangerous. The kind that makes the air seem heavier, suffocating.


    Olivia straightens her shoulders, meeting his anger head-on. "Mrs. Laura approved it."


    The name drops like a bomb in the room, and my breath catches. Laura. Her shadow looms larger than ever, her influence inescapable. The mention of her name is enough to send a wave of nausea crashing over me. I take a shaky step back, the weight of old wounds pressing heavily on my chest.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Ronald exhales sharply, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair, as though trying to temper his fury. "Fine," he snaps, his tone shifting, colder now, more calculating. "You can go. But don''t expect a glowing reference."


    Olivia doesn''t waver. "I''m here to inform you and ensure she''s settled. After that, I''m gone."


    The tension between them is electric, thick enough to choke on, but I can''t focus. My vision blurs, my thoughts spiraling as old fears claw their way to the surface. What was I thinking, coming here? This is a mistake. A terrible, irreversible mistake.


    "Rose." His voice cuts through my haze like a blade. "Leave. Now."


    "No," I whisper, surprising even myself. My fists clench at my sides, my nails digging into my palms for strength. Then louder, steadier, "No. This is my job. I need this."


    His smirk is slow, deliberate, and entirely predatory. "Your job? You have no idea what you''ve signed up for."


    "Give me a month," I counter, my voice rising with determination despite the tremor in my hands. "If I fail, fire me. But I deserve a chance."


    For a moment, he says nothing, his gaze boring into mine like he''s trying to peel away my resolve layer by layer. Then he steps closer, his towering presence enveloping me, the scent of his cologne¡ªrich and intoxicating¡ªflooding my senses. The proximity is unnerving, memories clawing at the edges of my mind like jagged glass.


    "Welcome to hell, baby," he murmurs, his smirk widening as he leans down, his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for me. "Let''s see if you can survive it."


    His words hang in the air, a sinister promise that sends a chill racing down my spine. My knees feel weak, but I hold my ground, refusing to let him see how much his presence still affects me.


    He straightens and turns abruptly, striding to his desk with the kind of commanding presence that fills the room. "Your first task is waiting. Clean up this mess," he orders without looking back, gesturing to the broken coffee cup on the floor.


    Anger flares in my chest, momentarily overpowering the fear. I''m his secretary, not his maid. But now isn''t the time to argue. Not yet.


    "Yes, Mr. Ronald," I say through gritted teeth, kneeling to pick up the shards. The sharp edges bite into my fingers, and I bite back a curse. This is only the beginning, I remind myself. Just a month. I can survive anything for a month.


    As I clean, I hear him typing away at his computer, the keys clicking with a rhythmic precision that''s almost hypnotic. His presence is overwhelming, his energy filling the room like a living thing. I steal a glance at him, his profile sharp and perfect in the morning light filtering through the windows. The man I once knew is gone, replaced by someone colder, harder¡ªa stranger wearing a familiar face.


    But as much as I try to deny it, a part of me can''t help but wonder: Is the man I loved still in there, buried beneath the layers of anger and ambition? Or is he truly lost to me forever?