The billionaire's revenge bride.

Isis' pov - By seven thirty on Friday evening, my feet were already begging me to sit down. Unfortunately, sitting down was a luxury I couldn't afford. I leaned against the tiny staff-room sink and stared at my reflection in the mirror. The woman staring back at me looked tired. Not the kind of tired that disappeared after a good night's sleep. The kind that settled underneath your eyes and followed you everywhere. My hair had been pulled into a neat bun, though several strands had escaped around my face. My makeup was simple because I had done it myself with the cheap products I could still afford. My uniform was black, pressed, and thankfully free of stains. At least I looked presentable. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. Three notifications. One from my landlord. One from the bank. And one from a number I didn't recognize. I opened the landlord's message first. **Rent is overdue, Isis. Please don't make me chase you again.** My stomach tightened. I closed it. The bank notification was worse. **Payment reminder: Your outstanding balance is due—** I locked my phone before I could finish reading it. I had become very good at ignoring things lately. Bills. Debt. Missed calls. The fact that my savings had disappeared months ago. The fact that I was working two jobs and still somehow falling behind. The fact that every time I thought I was finally getting my life together, something else broke. My phone buzzed again. I looked at it. The unknown number. For a second, I considered ignoring that too. Then I remembered the rent. I opened the message. **Can you report to the VIP section immediately? We are short-staffed.** I sighed. Of course. "Isis!" My supervisor's voice came from outside. "Coming!" I slipped my phone into my pocket and straightened my uniform. "You’re fine," I whispered to my reflection. A lie. But sometimes lies were easier to survive than the truth. I stepped out of the staff room and immediately walked into chaos. The Imperial Group's annual charity gala was being held at one of the most expensive hotels in the city, and apparently every wealthy person within a hundred-mile radius had decided to attend. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Waiters moved between tables carrying champagne. Women in designer gowns laughed beside men wearing suits that probably cost more than my yearly salary. I adjusted the tray in my hand and followed my supervisor toward the VIP section. "Table twelve," she said quickly. "They're important." "Everyone here is important." She gave me a look. "Isis." "I'm going." I headed toward table twelve. The first thing I noticed was the man sitting at the center. He wasn't speaking. He didn't have to. Everyone around him seemed to be doing enough talking for him. He was tall. Very tall. Broad shoulders filled out his black suit perfectly, and his dark skin looked almost golden beneath the warm chandelier lights. His hair was short and neatly cut, and his face had the kind of sharpness that made him look permanently unimpressed. His eyes were dark. Cold. Calculating. And for some reason, they made me slow down for half a second. Then I remembered I had work to do. I approached the table. "Good evening." Nobody answered immediately. I smiled politely anyway. "Champagne?" A woman at the table nodded. I poured her glass. Then another. Then another. When I reached the man in the center, he looked at the glass I offered him. He didn't take it. Instead, he stared at me. Then at the champagne. "This is warm." I blinked. I glanced at the bottle. "It was just opened." "That doesn't make it cold." I looked at him. He looked back. For several seconds, neither of us said anything. Then I smiled. "Would you like me to put some ice in it?" His eyebrow lifted. "No." "Then I'm afraid I'm out of options." The woman sitting beside him suddenly looked down at her plate, clearly trying not to laugh. The man's expression hardened. "You could bring another bottle." "I could." "Then do that." I nodded. "Of course." I turned. "Miss." I stopped. His voice was deep. Annoyingly calm. I looked over my shoulder. "Yes?" "Do you always speak to guests like that?" I smiled sweetly. "Only the difficult ones." Someone at the table coughed. The woman beside him covered her mouth. And the man's jaw tightened. I should have apologized. I knew that. This was a VIP event. I needed the money. I needed this job. I needed to stop getting myself into trouble. But there was something about the way he looked at people—as if the world existed solely to serve him—that rubbed me the wrong way. He leaned back in his chair. "What's your name?" I hesitated. "Why?" His eyes narrowed slightly. "Because I asked." I almost rolled my eyes. Almost. "Isis." "Last name?" I should have lied. I don't know why I didn't. "Cooper." Something changed in his expression. It was so subtle I almost missed it. His eyes sharpened. His entire body seemed to become still. "Cooper?" I nodded. "Yes." He stared at me for another second. Then he picked up his champagne. "Go." I frowned. "Excuse me?" "I said go." Well. At least we agreed on something. "With pleasure." I turned and walked away before I could say anything that would get me fired. My heart was pounding. Not because I was afraid of him. At least, that's what I told myself. I reached the service area and released a breath. "Who was that?" I glanced at another waitress beside me. "An arrogant man." She laughed. "That's Richard Davis." I froze. "Who?" She stared at me. "Richard Davis." I frowned. "And I'm supposed to know who that is?" She looked genuinely horrified. "Are you serious?" "Yes." "He's the CEO of Imperial." I slowly looked back toward the ballroom. The man I'd just insulted was Richard Davis. The Richard Davis. The billionaire CEO whose name appeared in business magazines. The man whose family owned Imperial Group. The man I had just called difficult. I closed my eyes. "Perfect." "What?" "Nothing." I picked up another tray. My supervisor appeared behind me. "Isis, don't cause trouble." I gave her an innocent smile. "I never cause trouble." She stared at me. I smiled wider. She walked away. I tried to forget about Richard Davis. It wasn't easy. Every few minutes, I caught myself wondering if he was still at the table. Not because I cared. Obviously. I just didn't want to get fired because I'd offended the most powerful man in the room. The rest of the evening passed without another encounter. Or at least, I thought it did. I was carrying an empty tray toward the service corridor when I felt someone's gaze on me. I glanced toward the ballroom. Richard was standing near the windows. He wasn't speaking to anyone. He was watching me. Our eyes met. For a second, neither of us looked away. There was something strange about his expression. It wasn't anger. It wasn't amusement either. It was something I couldn't quite understand. Then someone approached him, and his attention shifted. I quickly turned around. I didn't know why my heart had started beating faster. Not because I was attracted to him. Definitely not. It was probably irritation. Yes. I was irritated. That was all. By the time the event ended, it was almost midnight. My feet hurt. My shoulders hurt. My patience had officially died three hours ago. I changed back into my cheap black dress, shoved my work shoes into my bag, and walked outside. The night air hit my face. I breathed deeply. Finally. Freedom. I pulled out my phone. Two missed calls. One message from my landlord. I didn't open it. I couldn't deal with another reminder tonight. Tomorrow. I'd deal with everything tomorrow. I started walking toward the bus stop, already calculating how much money I would have left after paying part of my rent. It wasn't enough. Of course it wasn't. I sighed. Maybe I could pick up another shift tomorrow. Maybe I could sell the old television I'd been keeping in storage. Maybe— My phone buzzed. I stopped walking. Another notification. I glanced at the screen. Nothing important. Just an advertisement. I shoved the phone back into my bag. I had no idea that while I was worrying about rent, someone else had already made plans that would completely change my life. --- The next morning, I woke up to my phone vibrating beside my pillow. I groaned and reached for it without opening my eyes. Probably another reminder about money. Maybe another shift. Maybe my landlord. At this point, I wasn't even sure which one I dreaded more. I unlocked my phone. Then I frowned. There was an email waiting for me. The sender's name made me sit up. **Imperial Group.** I stared at it. That couldn't be right. I opened it. **Dear Ms. Isis Cooper,** **We are pleased to invite you to an interview regarding an available position within Imperial Group.** I read the sentence twice. Then a third time. "What?" I had never applied to Imperial. I scrolled down. The interview was scheduled for Monday morning. Nine o'clock. My eyebrows pulled together. How had they even gotten my information? I reread the email. There was no explanation. No mention of who had recommended me. Nothing. Just the address, the time, and instructions to report to the main Imperial headquarters. I dropped the phone onto my bed. This made no sense. Imperial was one of the biggest companies in the city. People fought to get jobs there. People with degrees from prestigious universities. People with connections. People who actually knew what they were doing. Not women who spent Friday nights carrying champagne to billionaires and insulting them. I picked up my phone again. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe they'd meant to send it to someone else. That had to be it. Then my eyes caught the final line. **Please confirm your attendance before 5:00 p.m. today.** I stared at the screen. A job at Imperial could change everything. It could pay enough to clear my debts. Enough to get me out of survival mode. Enough to finally breathe. But something about it felt wrong. I thought about the night before. The cold eyes. The arrogant voice. The question. What's your name? I swallowed. No. That was ridiculous. There was no way Richard Davis had anything to do with this. He had probably forgotten me the moment I walked away. Besides, why would a billionaire CEO care about a waitress who had served him champagne? I looked at the email again. Then at the unpaid bills scattered across my nightstand. For the first time in months, something that looked like an opportunity had landed directly in my lap. I couldn't afford to ignore it. My thumb hovered over the confirmation button. Then I pressed it. **Interview confirmed.** I stared at the screen. A strange feeling settled in my stomach. I couldn't explain it. Maybe it was excitement. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was simply the feeling that something was about to happen. I had no idea that by accepting that interview, I had just stepped into a trap. And I certainly had no idea that the man waiting for me inside Imperial's headquarters already knew exactly who I was.