Chapter 1: A chance encounter

Ethan Blackwood strode through the polished marble lobby of his office building, his sharp Italian suit cutting through the air like a blade. The usual chorus of whispers and admiring glances followed him as he approached the revolving doors, but he paid them no mind. The world outside, bathed in the golden light of early evening, awaited him.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, a reminder of yet another business meeting he could have easily delegated. He ignored it. After all, this was his kingdom, and he ruled it with a precision that left no room for error—or for the distractions of life beyond work.

He stepped outside, the city's bustle a familiar background hum that he barely registered. His luxury car was parked just across the street, waiting for him, when a sudden movement caught his eye. A flash of color, a streak of auburn hair, and then the unmistakable sound of something hitting the pavement with a dull thud.

Ethan turned, his gaze narrowing as he saw a young woman sprawled on the sidewalk, her belongings scattered around her. She scrambled to her feet, brushing off her worn jeans and clutching at her oversized bag as though it contained everything she owned—which, by the look of her, it probably did.

He didn't know why he hesitated—Ethan Blackwood never hesitated—but something about the way she frantically gathered her things, the way she muttered to herself as though willing the ground to swallow her up, made him pause.

Ava Morales didn't notice the tall, impeccably dressed man staring at her as she picked up the last of her textbooks, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. Today had been a disaster, just like every other day in recent memory. Late for work, late for class, and now, late for the bus that would take her to her second job. She couldn't afford another slip-up, not when everything was hanging by a thread.

"Need a hand?" The voice was deep, confident, and startlingly close.

Ava looked up, her breath catching as she met the cool, gray eyes of the man standing before her. He was everything she imagined the wealthy and powerful to be—handsome in a way that seemed almost unreal, with an air of control that made her feel instantly out of place.

"No, I'm fine," she blurted out, stuffing the last of her things into her bag. She didn't have time for this, for the silent judgment she was sure he was passing on her disheveled appearance and obvious desperation.

But he didn't move. Instead, he watched her with an intensity that made her feel like she was the only person on this crowded street.

"You dropped this," he said, holding out a battered notebook that had slipped from her grasp. It was the one thing she couldn't afford to lose—her entire future was in those pages, filled with notes and ideas she had painstakingly gathered over the years.

Ava took it from him, their fingers brushing for the briefest of moments. The touch sent an unexpected jolt through her, and she pulled back, clutching the notebook to her chest as if it could shield her from whatever strange energy had just passed between them.

"Thank you," she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ethan nodded, but he didn't step away. Instead, he found himself studying her, noticing the determination in her eyes that belied her fragile appearance. There was something about her, something different from the endless parade of polished, perfect people who populated his world.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked, surprising himself with the concern that crept into his voice.

Ava glanced at the bus stop, where her bus was already pulling away. She sighed, resigned to walking the few miles to her next shift.

"I will be," she said, more to herself than to him.

Ethan's gaze followed hers, and for the first time, he noticed the exhaustion etched into her features, the way her shoulders sagged under the weight of whatever burden she carried.

"Let me give you a ride," he offered, the words slipping out before he could think better of them.

Ava looked at him, startled. "Why would you do that?"

Ethan hesitated. It was a question he couldn't answer—at least, not in any way that made sense to him. All he knew was that, for reasons he couldn't quite explain, he didn't want to see her struggle any more than she already had.

"Consider it a favor," he said, a small, rare smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I'm Ethan, by the way."

"Ava," she replied, still wary, but too tired to argue.

"Nice to meet you, Ava," he said, and for once, the words felt like they meant something.