Control Was Never Love

The Girl Who Fell From the Sky Bea Monteverde used to belong to the world of glass buildings and quiet power. She did not grow up afraid of men like Ace Monteverde. She grew up beside them. Her father owned shipping lines. Her mother ran a chain of luxury hotels. Their home overlooked the city skyline, and success was simply part of the air she breathed. People stood when her father entered a room. Deals closed over dinner. Wealth was not a dream. It was normal. Until the night everything burned. The accident took both her parents in a single phone call. A rain slick highway. A truck that lost control. Headlines the next morning. Condolences from people who sounded relieved it was not them. The businesses collapsed within months. Loans she never knew existed surfaced. Contracts her father had signed under pressure. Partners who disappeared. Properties sold. Cars gone. Staff dismissed. Their home emptied until it echoed. By twenty four, Bea had inherited nothing but debt and a last name that no longer opened doors. That was how she ended up standing in the lobby of Monteverde Group Tower. Glass. Steel. Silence. The building pierced the clouds like it had never known failure. Like it had never known loss. Bea felt the old life press against her ribs, painful and familiar, before she forced it away. She was not that girl anymore. She was the girl who needed a job. “Miss Bianca Fernandez?” She nodded. She stopped correcting people. Monteverde was no longer hers. “Top floor. Personal secretary to the CEO.” The elevator ride felt longer than the fall her life had taken. When the doors opened, the air changed. Quieter. Colder. Expensive in a way that did not need to show off. Her desk was outside a pair of dark double doors. She understood immediately. This was not a workstation. It was a front row seat. At nine sharp, the first woman arrived. Tall. Beautiful. Confident. The kind of woman Bea used to see at charity galas, not office hallways. Red lipstick. High heels that clicked like a countdown. She did not look at Bea. She knocked once and entered. The door closed. Bea stared at the computer screen. Her vision blurred, but she refused to blink. She would not be the kind of girl who reacted. Laughter drifted through the walls. Her fingers curled slowly into her palm. She had known men like Ace Monteverde existed. Powerful. Untouchable. Used to taking. She just never thought she would be seated right outside the evidence. At eleven, the woman came out glowing, satisfied, victorious in a silent competition Bea never agreed to join. “Miss Bea. Coffee.” His voice came through the intercom. Deep. Calm. Commanding. Bea stood. She had faced bankruptcy lawyers. Auction agents. Credit collectors. She had watched men tear apart her family legacy with polite smiles. But walking into Ace Monteverde’s office made her pulse stumble. He stood by the window, the city stretched beneath him like property. He turned. Dark eyes. Sharp jaw. Presence that filled the room without effort. He did not smile. He never needed to. She placed the coffee on his desk. “Anything else, sir?” He stepped closer instead of answering. Too close. The air tightened. “Why,” he said quietly, “do you look at me like you know me?” Her breath caught. “I do not, sir.” His gaze searched her face like he was trying to place a memory he could not reach. “You are not impressed. Not nervous. Not trying to please me.” His voice lowered. “That is new.” “I am here to work.” His eyes dropped briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes. Slow. Assessing. “And yet,” he murmured, “you feel everything.” Her heart betrayed her with one hard beat. He stepped back. The moment shattered. “Bring me the Henderson files,” he said coldly. Just like that. Control returned to him. And she hated that her body still remembered how close he had been. As she walked out, Bea realized something dangerous. Ace Monteverde was not looking at her like a man looks at a woman. He was looking at her like a puzzle. And he did not like things he could not solve. She did not know it yet. But the man who now signed her paychecks would one day be the reason she finally broke. And the reason she would learn how to walk away.