She didn't mean to come here.
Didn't even realize where her feet were going until they stopped. The park. Same bench. Third from the back. By the broken swing.
Her body sat before her mind caught up.
Everything looked… fine.
Kids shrieked, birds flapped, a popcorn cart whistled near the gate.
She hated how normal it looked.
Like nothing happened. Like the world didn't notice she was crumbling.
She blinked. Hard. At nothing.
A little girl squealed. A frisbee flew. Someone laughed too loud on the other side of the path. Bright, careless joy.
Jean didn't move.
Didn't want to exist.
The sky was painfully clear. Soft breeze. Sunlight made the grass look warmer than it felt.
Her heart was a dead weight in her chest.
Then....
"Hi."
A small voice. Close.
She looked up.
Boy. Maybe five. Hair messy. Nose running. No front teeth.
He stared like they were old friends.
"You're pretty," he said.
Just like that.
No filter. No warning.
She blinked. "…What?"
"You're pretty," he said again. Shrugged. "Like my mom when she's not crying."
It hit her like a punch. Low. Sharp.
She forced a twitch of a smile.
"Thanks, kid."
He rocked on his heels, still watching her.
"You look sad."
Her smile disappeared.
He took a step closer.
"I'll marry you when I grow up."
Her eyebrows lifted.
"…What?"
"I will," he nodded. "I like you. You're soft."
A laugh escaped her cracked and breathless. Not a real laugh. Just noise she didn't know what to do with.
"You're not supposed to say stuff like that to strangers."
"You're not a stranger," he said like it was obvious. "You sit here all the time. Like me."
She stared at him.
He pulled something from behind his back.
A plastic toy. Worn down. Yellow. A weird smiley face drawn in marker. One eye bigger than the other.
"This is Sunny," he said. "He helps me when I feel like throwing stuff. You can have him."
"I-I can't take-"
He pressed it into her palm.
"It's okay. He said it's your turn now."
Jean looked down at it. The crooked little smile. The uneven eyes.
Something in her cracked.
She didn't say anything. Couldn't.
The boy smiled, proud, and ran off without another word.
Gone.
Just like that.
She stared at the toy in her hand.
Didn't cry.
Just sat there - shoulders tight, throat burning, like her ribs had forgotten how to hold everything in.
She didn't fall apart.
Not fully.
Just broke. Quietly.
A small break. The kind you don't notice until you breathe again.
Like pain. Or hope.
Or both.
The world didn't stop for her.
But just for a second…
It looked back.
Zane's pov:
Zane sat frozen in his chair.
One elbow rested on the armrest, his knuckles against his jaw. The world outside the noise, the sun, the gold slanting through floor-to-ceiling glass didn't matter. Could've been raining. Could've been on fire. He wouldn't have noticed.
His mind had stayed back… in that moment.
That almost-smile.
Her lips had tilted just slightly. Not for him. For the boy. But he'd seen it.
Felt it.
It had split something open in him.
He'd seen a thousand smiles. Boardroom charm. Backhanded praise. Models paid to look like they gave a damn.
But hers…That smile wasn't decoration.It was defense.
Quiet. Shy. Unsure. Like it hadn't decided if it deserved to exist.
That kind of smile… it only came from people who'd bled for it. From softness that had survived being crushed.
And for reasons he couldn't explain not to himself, not to anyone that ruined him.
Knock.
Zane blinked, just once. The sound dragged him back.
Jared walked in like always steady, efficient, unreadable. "James Maddox is ready," he said. "Wants to view the project in person. Said he'll decide after that."
Zane shifted, slow. The flicker of softness disappeared like it had never existed.
His posture reset.
Sharp. Controlled. Detached.
"Two days," Zane said. "Schedule the meeting here. I want it on our turf."
Jared nodded. "Got it."
Zane's voice dropped.
"And Jared…"
He didn't look up, but the silence held meaning. Jared paused at the door.
"Keep someone on her," Zane said, his voice cool. Measured. "No shadows. No surprises. I don't care how small the threat looks."
A long pause.
Jared didn't move. Just asked, "Her?"
Zane finally looked at him.
"Jean," he said. "Don't let anything touch her."
Jared nodded once. "Understood."
And he was gone.
Zane sat still for a long moment after the door clicked shut.
His jaw flexed once.
James Maddox.
The name alone felt rotten.
Zane had shaken hands with criminals before. Ruthless, dangerous men who operated on fear and power. But James?
James didn't operate. He played.
Especially with women.
Broke them. Laughed while doing it. Paid off the mess like it was pocket lint.
Zane had seen it. Knew the kind of things that didn't make headlines. NDA after NDA. Bloodless threats. Silence bought and sold.
And now Maddox was sniffing around his company?
Zane didn't flinch. Not because he wasn't angry but because his anger was made of stillness. Cold steel, not fire.
He wasn't afraid for himself.
But if Maddox so much as glanced in Jean's direction…
If he ever, ever, tried to drag her into his game....
Zane would stop him.
And it wouldn't be business anymore.
Jean didn't know it. But somewhere between her broken smile and the way she stood in the rain… she'd become the line no one was allowed to cross.
Jean's POV:
Her phone lit up, the vibration soft but jarring in the silence of the room.
Unknown number.
She stared at it for too long.
She didn't get random calls. And the last time her life changed because of a phone call, it wasn't for the better.
Still, she answered.
"Jean Gray?"
A male voice. Hesitant. Slightly off.
"…Yes?"
"This is Martin Hall. Owner of Café Studio."
Her stomach dropped.
That place.
The same damned place where she'd stood soaked and shaking, her sketches barely dry, only to be told mocked, really that her work was "too soft."
As if softness was weakness.
"I remember," she said, her voice flat.
He hesitated.
"I wanted to apologize. For how that… meeting went. We were wrong. Honestly. One of our team just left and… your name came up again. I'd like to offer you the spot."
She didn't answer right away.
Because what?
People don't go from humiliation to admiration overnight.
Not unless something or someone pushes them.
"You laughed at my work," she said, her tone unreadable.
"I know," his voice cracked. Genuinely cracked. "It was a mistake. We'd be lucky to have you, Jean. If you're still interested."
She didn't respond.
She just… stared ahead. Confused. Suspicious.
"I'll think about it."
Another pause.
"Please do. Training starts tomorrow morning. You don't have to confirm now. Just… show up if you want it. We'll figure the rest out."
Click.
The line went dead before she could say another word.
She held the phone in her hand like it had burned her.
Nothing about this felt right.
It didn't feel like a second chance.
It felt like someone else's plan.
Meanwhile—Café Studio.
Martin Hall's hands were trembling as he dropped the phone onto the table.
Jared stood near the window, gun still holstered, but his presence heavier than any bullet.
"You're lucky," Jared said, calm. "He wanted subtle. Next time… remember not to mess with who he watches."
Jean's Apartment – Evening
She sat on the edge of her bed.
Phone still in hand. Offer letter glowing on the screen.
She'd read it three times.
"Dear Miss Gray, we sincerely apologize for the misunderstanding—"
Misunderstanding.
She almost laughed.
Was that what we're calling it now? A misunderstanding?
Her clothes had been soaked. Her hands shaking. Her sketches crumpled and tossed aside like wrappers.
And now suddenly, they wanted her?
No reason. No explanation.
Her chest tightened.
Something didn't feel safe about this.
She rubbed her arms, suddenly cold, even though the room was warm.
Somewhere else – Zane's penthouse.
Jared stood before him, silent.
Zane didn't speak. Didn't blink. Just stared at the screen in front of him. Footage flickered.
Jean walking down the street.
Jean sitting at a park bench.
Jean smiling at that boy.
Jean… existing.
"Offer delivered," Jared said. "She's confused. Like you wanted."
Zane nodded once.
"Any trouble?"
"Nothing. One kid. That's it."
Zane's voice dropped. "Keep it that way."
Jared left.
Zane didn't move.
He waited until the door clicked shut… then slowly lowered himself onto the couch.
He stared at the images again.
One after another.
Her smile. Her walk. Her moments of quiet.
His hand hovered over the screen. Just for a second. Like maybe, just maybe, if he reached far enough, he could touch the loneliness out of her.
"You really thought they forgot what you looked like?" he whispered, his voice hoarse. "Little Bluebird…"
His fingers grazed the screen.
"I saw you smile. Just once. Like the world didn't hurt. Like maybe it didn't matter."
He leaned forward, eyes dark.
"I've been memorizing you. Frame by frame. Smile by smile. Pain by pain. I know where you break."
His throat closed up, tight and aching.
"But you still smiled. Even after everything. You smiled for that boy."
He swallowed hard.
"Fly if you must, Bluebird… but you'll always belong to the sky I breathe in. Even if you hate me for it."