The alarm buzzed far too early.
Elena groaned and rolled over, slapping the clock into silence. Her tiny apartment smelled faintly of instant noodles and damp clothes, the cracked ceiling staring back at her like it shared her misery.
For a long moment she lay still, hoping last night had been nothing but a dream.
But the image returned—dark eyes, sharp jawline, the steady weight of his gaze. Alexander King. Saying her name like it mattered.
"Elena."
She shivered and shook her head quickly. It was ridiculous. She had been nothing more than a clumsy waitress at a rich man's party. He had probably forgotten her the second he turned away.
Still, her pulse quickened just remembering it.
She dragged herself out of bed, pulled on her uniform for the café down the street, and tied her hair into a messy bun. Life went on. Rich men lived in their world; she lived in hers.
By nine a.m., the café was full. Students, office workers, mothers with strollers, her kind of people. The coffee machine hissed, the air smelled of roasted beans, and Elena forced herself to smile as she carried trays and cleared tables.
Normal. Safe.
Until the bell above the door chimed.
Elena glanced up and her stomach dropped.
He walked in like he owned the place.
Alexander King.
In a simple gray suit, no bodyguards this time, his presence still made the small café feel too small. Conversations faltered. Even the barista paused mid-sentence.
Elena almost dropped the tray in her hands. "You've got to be kidding me," she whispered under her breath.
He scanned the room once, his gaze settling on her like it was inevitable. Like he had known exactly where to find her.
Her throat went dry. She had convinced herself he had forgotten her name. She had been wrong.
He crossed the room with unhurried steps, stopping right in front of her.
"Good morning, Elena."
Her name again. Smooth. Certain.
Elena gripped the tray tighter. "What are you doing here?" she hissed, keeping her voice low, aware of the curious stares from nearby tables.
"Having coffee," he said simply.
Her chest tightened. He wasn't mocking, wasn't smiling. His calm tone made it worse. Like this was the most natural thing in the world, that a billionaire had walked into a cheap café to find her.
She set the tray down before she dropped it. "There are a hundred cafés in this city."
"And yet I chose this one," Alexander replied. His gaze swept over her plain uniform, then returned to her eyes. "Do you believe in coincidence, Elena?"
Her pulse jumped. She wanted to say yes. She wanted to say he was being dramatic. But deep down, she already knew. This wasn't coincidence.
"What do you want from me?" she whispered.
For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice so only she could hear.
"I don't know yet," he said. "But I will."
And just like that, he moved past her and sat at a corner table, leaving her heart racing and her hands trembling.
Elena swallowed hard, every nerve buzzing.
She had wanted last night to mean nothing.
But Alexander King had just walked into her ordinary life.
And he wasn't letting go.