Eliana Bennett hopped into a cab the moment she left school, barely giving the driver directions before slumping into the backseat. As soon as the cab rolled to a stop in front of her hostel, she threw a few bills at the driver, swung the door open, and bolted out. Without wasting a second, she sprinted toward the hostel gates. Her sneakers slapped against the pavement, each step a desperate drumbeat echoing the panic in her chest. Her honey-brown eyes, wide with dread, glistened with unshed tears, and her long hair whipped wildly in the evening breeze. The city blurred past—honking cars, distant laughter, the hum of streetlights flickering to life—but all she could see was her father's frail silhouette in her mind, alone and trembling outside the hostel's iron gates.
When she reached the entrance, her heart shattered. There stood Frank, his thin frame hunched against the cold metal bars, his large woven sweater flapping like a tattered flag in the wind. His weathered face, etched with lines of hardship, was streaked with tears, and his trembling hands clutched a crumpled paper bag that held his few belongings. The sight of him—so small, so broken—clawed at Eliana's soul. She skidded to a stop, her breath hitching as she dropped her backpack and rushed to him.
"Papa!" she cried, her voice cracking as she threw her arms around him. His body felt fragile, like brittle twigs beneath her embrace, and the faint scent of his familiar aftershave mingled with the damp chill of the air. "What happened? Why are you out here?"
Frank's lips quivered, his gray eyes swimming with shame. "Eli, they… they told me to leave," he said, his voice shaking. "Said I don't belong here. I didn't mean no trouble, I swear."
Eliana's heart lurched. She pulled back, cupping his face in her hands, her thumbs brushing away his tears. "You don't have to belong anywhere but with me," she said fiercely, though her voice trembled. She turned to the two security guards standing like stone sentinels by the gate. Caldwell, the head of security, loomed over them, his burly frame intimidating in his crisp black suit, his arms crossed and his face a mask of indifference.
"Please, Mr. Caldwell," Eliana pleaded, stepping forward, her hands clasped as if in prayer. "This is my father. He's not causing any trouble. He's sick, and he just needs to stay with me for a few nights. Just a few nights, I promise."
Caldwell's eyes narrowed, his jaw tight. "Miss Bennett, the rules are clear. This is a private residence, and we can't have unauthorized guests. An extra person stretches the property's resources—water, electricity, space. It's a liability. You should've cleared it with management."
"But he's my father!" Eliana's voice rose, sharp with desperation. "He's not some stranger off the street. He's not going to ruin anything. Please, just let him stay. I'll take full responsibility."
The second guard, a lanky man with a buzzcut, snorted. "Rules are rules, lady. You want special treatment, take it up with the board."
Eliana's hands balled into fists, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to keep her composure. "This isn't about special treatment. This is about decency. He's an old man, for God's sake!"
Frank tugged at her sleeve, his voice soft and pleading. "Eli, don't fight 'em. I'll… I'll figure somethin' out. Don't want you gettin' in trouble."
"No, Papa," she said, whirling to face him, her eyes blazing. "You're not going anywhere. This is my home, and you're staying with me."
The argument was interrupted by the low rumble of an engine. A shiny black Mercedes rolled up to the gate, its headlights bright and blinding even with the late afternoon sun dulling it's shine. The driver's door swung open, and Jason Asher stepped out, his blonde hair catching the glimmers of sunlight. His hazel eyes scanned the scene, and his lips curled into a faint grimace as he took in Eliana's tear-streaked face and Frank's pitiful figure. In his tailored jacket and designer jeans, Jason looked every bit the golden boy, but the sight of his fiancée begging at the gate like a common vagrant made his stomach churn. This is embarrassing, he thought, adjusting his watch with a flick of his wrist. She's my fiancée, for Christ's sake. People will talk.
"Eliana, what's going on?" Jason called, striding over with a practiced air of concern. His voice was smooth, but there was a sharp edge to it, like a blade hidden in butter. He'd just come from an overnight party with his friends—too much champagne, too many late-night confessions—and the faint scent of whiskey clung to him.
Eliana's face lit up at the sight of him, relief flooding her. She rushed to him, throwing her arms around his neck, her voice trembling with emotion. "Jason, thank God you're here. They kicked Papa out. They won't let him stay, even for a few nights. I told them he's my father, but they don't care. They said he's a liability!"
Jason stiffened in her embrace, his jaw tightening as he glanced at the guards, then at Frank, who stood shivering by the gate. "A liability?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow at Caldwell. "What's this about?"
Before Caldwell could respond, a familiar figure emerged from the hostel's grand entrance. Sarai Monroe glided toward them, her glossy black hair pulled into a sleek bun, her emerald eyes glinting with feigned concern. Her designer heels clicked against the pavement, and her crimson dress hugged her curves like a second skin. "Oh my goodness, Caldwell won't still let your father into the house?" she gasped, pressing a manicured hand to her chest. "Eliana, is everything okay? I thought this issue had been cleared an hour ago. Poor Mr. Bennett, out here in the cold!"
Eliana's eyes softened at Sarai's voice, her trust in her friend unwavering despite the sting of the situation. "Sarai, they won't let Papa stay," she said, her voice breaking. "I don't know what to do."
Sarai's lips parted in a perfect imitation of shock, but her eyes flickered with triumph. "That's awful," she said, her tone dripping with syrupy sympathy. "Mr. Caldwell, surely there's something we can do? Eliana's family, after all."
Caldwell cleared his throat, his gaze darting to Sarai before settling on Jason. "Mr. Asher, as I was explaining to Miss Bennett, the hostel has strict policies. An extra person, especially someone… unaccustomed to this environment, could disrupt the property's standards. We can't allow it."
Jason's jaw clenched, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. The idea of his fiancée's father—a former garbage collector, no less—being tossed out like trash in front of the hostel was a blow to his carefully curated image. He could already imagine the whispers at the country club, the snide comments from his friends. Jason Asher's fiancée, begging like a street rat. Pathetic.
"Alright, enough," Jason said, his voice sharp as he held up a hand. He turned to Eliana, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Eli, don't worry about this. I'll handle it. You and your dad come with me. I'll find him a place to stay tonight."
Eliana's eyes widened, gratitude flooding her. "Jason, really?" she whispered, her voice heavy with gratitude. She threw her arms around him again, burying her face in his chest. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I knew you'd understand."
Frank shuffled forward, his voice hoarse but sincere. "Jason, I… I don't know how to thank you. You're a good man, lookin' out for my Eli like this."
Jason nodded curtly, his smile tight. "Don't mention it, Frank. Let's just get you settled." He glanced at the guards, his tone clipped. "We're done here."
Sarai stood frozen, her arms crossed, her eyes narrowing as she watched the scene unfold. A place to stay? she thought, her nails digging into her palms. Jason, you idiot. You're supposed to let her crash and burn, not play the hero. Her lips twitched, but she forced a smile, stepping closer to Eliana. "Oh, Jason, that's so kind of you," she said, her voice saccharine. "Eliana, you're so lucky to have him."
Eliana smiled weakly, still clinging to Jason's arm. "I know," she said softly, her eyes shining with trust. "I don't know what I'd do without him."
As Jason led Eliana and Frank toward his car, Sarai lingered by the gate, her smile fading into a scowl. The guards exchanged a glance, sensing the storm brewing behind her perfect facade. For Eliana, the day was a blur of gratitude and relief, but for Sarai, it was a spark igniting a fire of rage. The game was far from over, and she was determined to win.