Morning came quickly.
Emily moved through her morning routine on autopilot: brushing her teeth, washing her face, pulling her hair into soft waves, and applying the lightest touch of makeup. Not too much — just enough to look polished, confident.
She dressed in the outfit she had picked out the night before — the pale blue blouse tucked neatly into high-waisted black pants that hugged her curves just right. She glanced at herself in the mirror and allowed a small smile to form.
She looked good.
No, not just good — she looked stunning.
Her long, rich brown hair framed her face like silk, her hazel eyes bright and alert despite the nerves bouncing in her stomach. Her lips, full and soft, wore a faint, natural gloss. She didn't need layers of glamour. She already had presence — a quiet, undeniable kind.
Even if she didn't always feel it.
"You've got this," she whispered to her reflection.
After double-checking her documents — resume, ID, references — she stepped into her grandmother's room to say goodbye.
"You look lovely, sweetheart," Irene said with a proud smile. "Knock 'em dead."
Emily kissed her cheek. "Wish me luck."
"You don't need luck, Emmy. You've got grit."
With that warmth in her heart, she left.
---
Walker & Co. Capitals was everything she expected from one of the city's top firms — sleek glass exterior, a grand lobby with polished floors, high ceilings, and people dressed like they were headed to the cover of a business magazine.
Emily stood out — and not necessarily in a good way.
Dozens of other candidates had shown up. Men and women in tailored suits, flashing resumes with gold-lettered degrees, chatting confidently with one another while sipping company coffee like they'd done this a hundred times.
She felt the buzz of it all — ambition, tension, quiet competition.
What am I doing here?
She almost turned around twice, her nerves clawing at her throat.
But then she remembered her grandmother's voice, and Chloe's pep talks, and all the nights she'd gone to bed praying for something to change.
This could be it.
So she sat, waiting patiently as names were called one by one.
Finally, the receptionist gave her a nod. "Emily Johnson? Mr. Walker will see you now."
Emily stood on shaking legs and followed the assistant down a long hallway lined with towering windows and minimalist décor. Every step made her more aware of the way her heels clicked against the floor. Her heart pounded like a drumbeat in her ears.
The assistant opened a set of double doors and gestured for her to enter. "He's waiting."
Emily stepped inside.
The office was massive, all dark wood, sharp lines, and floor-to-ceiling views of the city skyline. At a large desk near the windows sat a man, focused intently on his laptop. His brow was furrowed in concentration, jaw tense, expression unreadable.
He didn't look up.
"Sit," he said simply.
His voice was smooth, deep — the kind of voice that didn't need to raise in volume to command a room.
Emily sat cautiously, her back straight, hands folded in her lap, willing her heart to settle down.
Then he looked up.
And everything stilled.
He was… stunning.
Dark hair, neatly styled, contrasted against pale, sculpted features. His sharp cheekbones, chiseled jaw, and stormy gray eyes gave him an air of cold elegance. But there was something deeper — something behind the eyes that caught her off guard.
Intensity.
Familiarity?
She blinked, trying to focus.
"You're Emily Johnson?" he asked, voice low and steady.
"Yes," she managed, her throat dry.
He asked a few standard questions — past employment, experience, organizational skills. His tone remained clipped and formal, but every so often, his eyes lingered on her a second too long.
Not inappropriate. Not exactly.
Just… observant.
Like he was studying her.
Not the way a boss evaluates a potential hire.
The way a man watches something — someone — he already knows.
Emily did her best to keep her tone professional, her posture perfect. But the way he watched her made something in her chest flutter with confusion. There was an energy in the room, quiet but charged.
She had no idea who he was beyond the headlines and company name — no clue that she'd seen him before, in flashes, at a distance… always at the edge of her world.
But he knew exactly who she was.
And now, she was sitting right in front of him.