Her father's words lingered like iron chains. Without giving her the chance to argue, Charles Hayes swept out of the room, leaving Kimberly fuming in silence. He had made his decision, and as always, hers did not matter.
Roy, still standing by the window, turned his gaze to her. Calm, composed, unreadable. Then, with a slight bow, he said, "Ma'am, I'll go get the car ready."
Kimberly narrowed her eyes at him, her voice sharp and cutting. "Yes, you should. I don't know what my father sees in you."
He bowed again, expression unchanging, and left without another word.
The moment the door closed, Kimberly's fists clenched, her nails biting into her palms. Anger tightened her chest, but she forced herself to breathe. Swinging her legs off the bed, she groaned softly at the ache in her body before making her way into the shower.
The hot water washed away the sweat, fear, and faint traces of last night's horror. When she stepped out, the maid had already laid her clothes neatly on the chaise: a sleek black suit that hugged her curves perfectly. Kimberly dressed with practiced ease. She was indeed a striking woman—every inch of her screamed elegance. Her smile, when she allowed it, revealed a flawless set of teeth, and though her dimples appeared only faintly, they were enough to soften her beauty into something unforgettable. Today, she chose to let her shoulder-length hair fall naturally, framing her face with effortless grace.
Majestic, unbending, she walked out of her room without touching the breakfast laid for her. Kimberly had her own ritual: whenever she was upset, she refused to eat at home. Instead, she would find her comfort in coffee and toast on the street—a small rebellion that reminded her of simpler times.
Outside, the car waited. Roy stood by the door, his movements disciplined, professional. Without a word, he opened it for her. Kimberly hesitated for only a heartbeat before slipping inside, her chin tilted proudly.
As the city rolled by, she broke the silence. "Who are you, really? Who are your parents? What do they do for a living?"
Roy's hands tightened briefly on the steering wheel before he answered in that same steady tone. "I am the only surviving son of my family. They all died in an accident. Now… I work for you."
Kimberly blinked. For a moment, pity stirred within her. But she buried it quickly under a mask of indifference, her voice cool. "I see."
A few minutes later, she ordered, "Pull over here."
Roy obeyed without question, pulling up beside a narrow street lined with small shops. Kimberly stepped out gracefully, leading him toward a little store tucked between two taller buildings. The wooden sign above it had faded, and though the furniture inside looked old, it was clean and lovingly kept.
An elderly woman emerged from the back, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Kimberly. "My sweet child!" she exclaimed, playfully pinching her cheeks.
Roy's brow lifted slightly, though he quickly composed himself. Who would have imagined that the cold, untouchable daughter of Charles Hayes had a connection to a place like this?
Kimberly's tone dripped with sarcasm as she waved a hand. "Nanny Mila, meet my new bodyguard and driver—Roy."
Nanny Mila promptly smacked her lightly on the head. "I told you not to be rude, Kimberly."
Roy blinked in surprise as the elderly woman turned her warm smile on him. "Welcome, Roy. I'm Camila, but you can call me Nanny Mila. Come, sit down, child." She gestured for him to take a seat before bustling off to prepare coffee and toast.
Kimberly crossed her arms, glaring after her. "Nanny, we won't be staying long. You don't even know him, and you're already showing him too much kindness."
"Kindness costs nothing, my dear," Nanny Mila called back from the kitchen.
Roy allowed himself the faintest smile, touched by the woman's warmth. Kimberly noticed, and it only made her scowl deepen.
After they ate, Kimberly stood briskly. "We should go."
Roy rose without argument, and together they stepped out of the cozy little store. The moment the car door shut behind her, Kimberly's mask returned. Whatever softness the old woman had pulled out of her, she quickly buried again.
And so, with unspoken tension filling the car, they drove on toward the towering glass building of Hayes Global.