HOW HARD IS IT TO LOVE

FOUND

Chapter 2: Found

The phone was still pressed to Edward Smith's ear when he opened the door of his black SUV.

"Cancel it. I don't do charity," he said coldly. His voice was low, hard, and final. "If they can't afford me, they can't have me."

He ended the call. In his other hand, he held a cup of hot black coffee his driver had just handed him.

He was about to drive off when he heard it.

A soft whimper from the back.

Edward froze. His hand tightened around the coffee cup.

Slowly, he walked to the back. The rain was still falling hard. His expensive shoes splashed in the mud.

He opened the boot.

And there she was.

Curled under his coats like a wounded kitten. Soaked, shaking, dirty, and fast asleep. Her lips were pale. Her face was thin. Her arms were wrapped around her own body as if she was trying to hold herself together.

For a second, Edward just stared.

Who was this? A thief? A beggar? A trap from his enemies?

Anger rose in his chest. His hand shook, and by mistake, the hot coffee in his hand poured. It splashed directly on her legs.

"Aaah!" Elisa screamed. She jerked awake, clutching her legs. Her eyes flew open. Big, brown, terrified eyes.

When she saw him — tall, dark, expensive suit, eyes as cold as death — she started crying.

"Please! Please don't hurt me! I was not stealing! I was just sleeping!"

Edward did not even look sorry that the coffee had poured on her. His face remained stone.

He turned his head ruthlessly and shouted for his driver who was standing a few feet away under an umbrella.

"James!" he barked. "Did you not notice that a stray dog has found herself at the back of my car?"

Elisa's heart broke when she heard that. Stray dog. That was what Chief's son had also called her at the birthday party.

"I'm not a dog," she whispered, tears mixing with rain. "My name is Elisa Javier. I ran from the orphanage. I have no house. I have no one. I just saw your car open and I thought... I thought I could hide for five minutes..."

Edward looked down at her. The coffee stain was spreading on her old orphanage dress. Her fingers were still bruised from picking crumbs from the dog's plate.

Something in his chest — something he thought had died many years ago — moved slightly.

He remembered himself at 12 years old, sleeping in a garage in London after his mother died. No one wanted him. No one fed him.

He threw the empty coffee cup into the mud.

"Get in the car," he said.

Elisa blinked. "What?"

"I said, get in the front seat. Now."

"Are... are you taking me to the police?" she whispered.

Edward didn't answer. He just opened the passenger door.

Elisa hesitated. This man had just poured coffee on her and called her a stray dog. He looked dangerous. But the rain was beating her. The cold was killing her. And his car was warm.

Slowly, she climbed into the passenger seat.

Edward closed the door, walked around, and got into the driver's seat. He turned on the heater. Warm air filled the car.

For a long minute, there was only silence and the sound of the rain on the roof.

Then Edward started the car.

"Where do you live?" he asked without looking at her.

"I... I don't have anywhere," Elisa whispered, staring at her burnt legs and her dirty hands.

Edward's jaw tightened. He stepped on the accelerator.

The black SUV roared and drove into the heavy rain, away from the big house, away from Chief's party, away from the orphanage.

Elisa didn't know where he was taking her.

She didn't know that Edward Smith never took anyone home.

She didn't know that from this moment on, her life would never be the same again.

Because Edward Smith had just made his first mistake in ten years — he had let a stray dog he called into his car.

And he had no idea how hard it would be to let her out.