Emma POV
"I just want to see her, please." My palms pressed the desk. My throat ached. "She's my sister. Five minutes. Please."
The nurse didn't lift her eyes. "Rules are rules. No payment, no access."
My chest tightened. "She's on life support. I swear I'll pay back. Let me—"
"Miss Emma," she cut in. Arms folded. "The doctor explained. No money, no treatment. No visit today."
I swallowed hard. "Then let me talk to him again."
She sighed and waved me toward the office.
I rushed down the hall. Disinfectant stung my nose. The doctor sat with his papers, pen in hand.
"Doctor, I need to see Sophia," I whispered.
He looked up, eyes cold. "Miss Emma, this can't continue. Bills are unpaid. The hospital is not a charity."
"I'll find the money. I'll work night and day. Please—"
His jaw tightened. "If the bill is not settled this week, we will remove the life support."
The words crushed me. My knees almost gave way. "You can't do that. Please."
"You have until the end of the week." He bent back to his papers.
I staggered out, tears burning. Sophia's face came to me, pale and fragile under the tubes. My only family. And they wanted to unplug her.
My phone buzzed. A cracked screen lit up: Reminder: Interview today.
I wiped my face and forced a breath. This job was the only chance.
The bus reeked of sweat and dust. I clutched my bag, mind filled with bills.
"Your fare!" the driver barked.
I fumbled through my bag. Empty. My purse was gone. My card too.
"Please, wait, I was robbed"
"Pay or get off," he snapped.
"I'm telling the truth"
A woman scoffed. "Liar."
"Shameless," another muttered.
Heat burned my face. "I'm not lying!"
The driver yanked me out. I hit the ground, knees scraping. People laughed.
"Can't even pay bus fare."
"She should stay home."
Tears blurred my eyes. "Please, believe me."
But no one cared.
Then I saw him.
A sleek black car. Behind tinted glass, a man stared. Sharp jaw. Cold eyes. Watching.
Hope flickered, then vanished as the car rolled away.
Rain poured down. My clothes stuck, shoes heavy with water. My legs trembled, but I kept walking.
"For Sophia," I muttered.
By the time I reached the tall glass building, I shook all over. Hair plastered, clothes dripping, body sore.
At the front desk, a woman with neat hair and glasses glanced up.
"Excuse me," I said. "I have an interview. Emma Carter."
Her eyes swept me. "You're late. Twenty minutes late."
"I know, but I need this job. Please."
"Rules are rules. You're disqualified." She turned back to her screen.
"Please, I'll wait," I whispered.
She rolled her eyes. "Suit yourself."
I sat in the corner, bag clutched tight. My legs shook, but I stayed. For Sophia.
After a while, a woman in authority passed by. "Why are you here?"
I jumped up. "Ma'am, I had an interview. They said I was late. Please, give me a chance."
She studied me. Her gaze softened. "You waited all this time?"
"Yes. I'll do anything."
She nodded toward the hall. "Go in."
"Thank you," I breathed.
I rushed down the corridor, heart racing.
The room fell silent when I walked in. Suits and polished shoes. Perfect faces. All staring.
Heat flushed through me. My hair was messy. Clothes damp. Hands trembling.
Whispers spread. Smirks. Frowns.
Stay strong. Don't cry. Don't collapse.
But my body failed. Knees weak. Vision fading.
"No," I whispered. "Not now."
I tipped forward, ready to fall.
But I never hit the ground.
Strong arms caught me. My head rested on a steady chest.
Through blurred eyes, I saw him.
The man from the car.
Closer now, his face was striking. Broad shoulders. Hard jaw. Eyes grey, sharp, unreadable.
Gasps echoed. "That's Mr. Ethan," someone whispered.
I parted my lips, but no words came. His cologne wrapped around me.
The last thing I felt was the beat of his heart before darkness took me.
Ethan POV
London mornings started the same. Noise from the streets. Cars rushing. People pushing through the crowd to get to work. To me, it was nothing but background sound.
I lived above all of it. My world was the top floor of Ryder Tower, the tallest building in the city. Glass walls looked down on everyone else. That was where I belonged. Above. Untouchable.
I stood at the wide window of my penthouse, shirtless, a glass of whiskey in hand even though it was past eight. My reflection stared back. Same jawline. Same dark eyes. Eyes people said could cut through steel. Women fell too easily for me. None of them lasted.
Heels clicked behind me. Light laughter. A soft voice.
"Ethan," she whispered. "Come back to bed."
I didn't turn. I didn't care. Another nameless woman. Another night wasted.
"Get dressed and leave," I said.
She gasped. Silence followed. Then the sound of her gathering her things. She wanted to argue but she didn't. They never did. They all knew who I was. Ethan Ryder. Billionaire. Heir to Ryder Company. I had money, power, control. But not enough.
Ryder Company was still under my father's name. Richard Ryder. The man who built it all. Old, frail, but still sharp. He refused to hand me everything. He gave me a condition.
I must marry.
His words still echoed. "If you want it all, Ethan, you must have a wife. If not, it goes to your cousin."
The thought of losing everything to that snake made my blood boil. I drained the whiskey and set the glass down. Marriage was a joke. Women were distractions, nothing more. But if this was the way to win, then I would do it. On my terms.
I dressed in a black suit. Sharp, clean, perfect. My armor. When I walked out, the world stared. That never changed.
The Rolls Royce waited downstairs. Cameras flashed. Voices whispered. Men glared. I smirked. They wanted to be me but they never would.
In the car, my phone buzzed. A message from Adrian, my oldest friend.
"Big day. Interviews at the tower. Don't scare them too much."
I laughed. Adrian was soft. Too soft. That's why I would always win.
The car moved through the city. A crowd caught my attention. I lowered the tinted glass.
In the center was a girl. Clothes worn. Hair messy. Face young but tired. People shouted at her, called her a thief. She tried to explain but no one listened.
I almost looked away. But then she looked up. Her eyes met mine. Big. Wet with tears. Full of fire. Not pity. Pride.
The car moved on, yet her eyes stayed with me.
At Ryder Tower, interviews were in full swing. Girls waited, polished, fake smiles plastered. None of them mattered.
Then I saw her again. The same girl. At the reception desk, arguing. She was late, but she refused to leave. Pale. Shaking. Still standing.
They let her in. I watched from the shadows. Her body gave out. She collapsed.
I caught her before she hit the floor.
She was light in my arms. Fragile. Rain and soap clung to her skin. I studied her face. She did not belong here. That was clear.
And yet, I held her.
I muttered to myself.
"Now this could be interesting."