Under his wing

CHAPTER.TWO

---

"And where do you think you're going?"

Her breath caught in her throat. She froze, her mind racing. Of course, it’s him. Why wouldn’t it be him today?

She slowly turned to face Mr. Thompson, her boss, standing by the counter with his arms crossed, his posture rigid.

"Olivia," he said in a low, scolding tone. "You're over two hours late."

Her grip tightened on the strap of her bag. She could feel the weight of the day crushing her from all sides. "I’m really sorry, Mr. Thompson. There was an emergency and—"

"Spare me the excuses," he snapped, cutting her off without hesitation. His eyes were cold and unforgiving. "You’ve had plenty of 'emergencies' before. You need to start taking your job seriously, or you won’t have one."

Her stomach churned. She knew he was right, and that made it worse. How many times have I been late? Too many for him to be this patient.

“I promise it won’t happen again,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. Her eyes stayed down, avoiding the weight of his gaze. Please, don’t fire me.

Mr. Thompson exhaled sharply. "One more mistake, Olivia, and you're out. No exceptions. Get to work, and be quick about it."

His footsteps echoed as he left, but the heaviness lingered in the air. Olivia let out a shaky breath. Could this day get any worse?

"Why is Monday always like this?" she muttered, shaking her head as she hurried to the back to get ready for her shift.

"Hey! Why do you look so funny?" Franca’s voice cut through the silence like nails on a chalkboard.

Olivia clenched her jaw. Of course, she’s here. Franca, with her perfect smile and her never-ending cheerfulness, stood by the kitchen door, arms crossed. Olivia knew that tone—it was fake concern wrapped in sarcasm.

"Can you not?" Olivia replied, her frustration already boiling over. "I’ve had a long day, and I’m not in the mood for your clown act."

Franca smirked, unfazed. "Not like I care," she tossed back, flipping her hair as she strutted away. Her voice lingered like poison in the air.

Olivia’s fists clenched, her nails digging into her palms. "That b***h," she hissed under her breath.

As she pulled on her apron, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror by the door—tired eyes, messy hair.

The reflection stared back at her, and for a moment, she felt as if she didn’t recognize the person looking back. Just get through the day, Olivia.

---

Vincent’s Office

Vincent sat behind his desk, his eyes glued to the thick contract in front of him. The words blurred together. He couldn’t focus—not with the new partnership gnawing at his mind.

Why did we have to partner with them? Out of all the architecture firms in New York City, they had chosen this one. The one with him.

He clenched his jaw, trying to push away the memory of their meeting earlier. But the man’s voice echoed in his head, smooth and confident. "I look forward to working with you, Vincent," he had said, a smirk plastered across his face.

Smug bastard. Vincent’s hands tightened around his pen. If he thinks he’s going to waltz in here and take over…

"Daniel!" Vincent’s sharp voice cut through the room, snapping him out of his thoughts.

His assistant, Daniel, rushed in, looking startled. "Yes, boss?"

"Coffee. Now," Vincent barked, his irritation seeping through his words. He needed something to shake off this tension, and Daniel was an easy target.

"Would you like whipped cream on top?" Daniel asked, hesitating.

Vincent shot him a withering look. "Have you just started working here? You should know how I take my coffee."

Daniel flushed, stammering, "I—uh, yes, sir. Of course." He quickly backed out of the office, nearly tripping over the door frame in his haste.

As the door closed, Vincent leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. This better be worth it.

He was used to getting what he wanted, and this partnership was a necessary evil. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

His reputation had been built on control—on being the best. Letting someone else into his world? That wasn’t part of the plan. Especially not him.

Vincent stared out the window at the skyline of Manhattan, the city that had become his empire. He had clawed his way to the top, sacrificed too much to let anyone take that from him now.

At the Restaurant – Later in the Shift

Olivia moved through the restaurant in a haze, barely registering the customers or the clatter of dishes.

Her mind was still stuck on her encounter with Mr. Thompson, the weight of his threat looming over her. One more mistake, and you’re out. The words echoed in her mind like a ticking clock.

I can’t lose this job. Not now. She thought about the hospital bills piling up for her mother. The debt collectors were already breathing down their necks.

Working at the restaurant was barely enough to keep things together, but at least it was something. Without it… she didn’t even want to think about what would happen next.

“Olivia! Table five has been waiting for their order for almost fifteen minutes!” Franca's voice snapped her back to reality.

“Right… sorry,” Olivia muttered, grabbing the tray with shaky hands. Her vision blurred for a second as she tried to focus on the orders. The stress and exhaustion were catching up to her, but she forced herself to push through. Just get through the shift.

As she approached the table, her foot slipped on something wet—probably a spilled drink. Before she could catch herself, the tray flew out of her hands, crashing to the floor. Plates shattered, food splattered everywhere, and the entire restaurant seemed to freeze as the noise echoed.

“Oh my God,” Olivia whispered, horror spreading across her face.

The customers at the table gasped, their clothes now stained with soup and sauces. Olivia scrambled to apologize, but before she could say anything, she heard the familiar sound of footsteps behind her.

“Olivia!” Mr. Thompson’s voice boomed, fury burning in his eyes. “That’s it. You’re done. Get out of here.”

Her heart plummeted. “Please, Mr. Thompson, I didn’t mean to—”

“I’ve given you more chances than you deserve!” He snapped. “You’re fired. Now, get out before you make more of a mess.”

Tears pricked at Olivia’s eyes, but she bit them back, swallowing the lump in her throat. Without another word, she quickly untied her apron and tossed it onto the counter.

This can’t be happening. She walked out of the restaurant, the hot afterno

on air hitting her like a slap. When she bumped into someone that looked a lot familiar.

You….?