Chapter3
937 Words
The Small Town on the Hill
The town of Ridgeview was the kind of place Alfred’s family would never step foot in. That was precisely why he chose it.
Nestled between rolling hills, dotted with jacaranda trees, Ridgeview felt untouched by the noise of the world. The houses were close enough that neighbors waved across balconies, but far enough that everyone respected each other’s peace. It smelled of warm bread in the morning and rain on dust in the afternoon. It was slower, softer—a place where a man could breathe.
Alfred arrived on a quiet Tuesday, driving an unmarked gray sedan that didn’t hint at wealth or status. He wore a plain button-up, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and a baseball cap low enough to hide the unmistakable sharp angles of his face—angles that had once been on the cover of business magazines and investment journals.
Here, he was not Alfred King, billionaire heir to King Dynamics.
He was simply Alfred, the new guy renting the cream house with the blue door.
He liked it that way.
The small moving truck he hired rumbled to a stop, and he hurried to help the workers unload furniture—nothing grand, everything intentionally ordinary. A modest couch. A simple oak table. Two chairs instead of eight. A bed with no canopy, no gilded frame, no velvet sheets.
He wanted a life that did not scream legacy, wealth, or pressure.
He wanted a life that Catherine could walk into without suspicion.
As he climbed the porch, he imagined her laugh filling the space, her voice asking where she could put her books, or plants, or that little mug she loved—the one she carried every morning at the office.
He smiled to himself, maybe a little too brightly for a man carrying a box of dishes.
His Two Lives Begin
The balance started the very next morning.
At 4:45 a.m., Alfred woke to the chirping of early birds and the cool Ridgeview air that slipped into the bedroom through a crack in the window. He showered, dressed in the crisp shirt and tailored trousers he stored in a separate wardrobe—his “city self” wardrobe—then neatly folded them inside a duffel before heading out to the car.
By the time he reached the outskirts of the city, he pulled into an upscale café, changed in the private washroom, fixed his hair, and stepped out as the man the board recognized: composed, polished, in control.
The board members respected him.
His family tolerated him.
The shareholders feared him.
No one could ever guess that he spent his evenings watering plants in Ridgeview, chatting with retired neighbors, and making late-night ugali because he’d watched a food vlog and wanted to try it.
And no one knew that his biggest motivation wasn’t business—it was her.
Catherine’s Presence in His Mind
Every day he stopped by the customer service floor. The building had fifty floors, yet he always found a reason to be on Floor 8.
He told himself it was routine. Staff engagement. A CEO’s duty.
But deep down, he knew why.
She always sat at the second desk from the window, headset on, eyes warm and steady. Some days she was resolving issues with calm confidence; other days she was laughing with her coworkers in that joyful, contagious way that made the whole room soften.
He was careful.
Professional.
Invisible when he needed to be.
To Catherine, he was the friendly team manager from another branch who “passed by sometimes.”
To everyone else, he was the boss who liked to walk the floor.
She had no idea she was the reason he stayed an extra five minutes… or an extra hour. No idea that someone who owned half the city waited for her lunch break just to walk to the cafeteria at the same time.
But he didn’t mind the secret.
Not yet.
A Surprise Call
That evening in Ridgeview, Alfred sat on the porch, watching the sun paint the sky peach and gold. Then his phone buzzed.
It was Catherine.
He froze.
She rarely called him—texts, yes, jokes, yes, the occasional voice note, yes. But a call? His pulse jumped.
He answered quickly, hoping he didn’t sound breathless.
“Hello?”
Her soft voice floated through the receiver.
“Hi, Alfred. I—uh—I didn’t catch you at a bad time, did I?”
“Never,” he said too fast. He cleared his throat. “No, not at all.”
She laughed lightly. “I just wanted to check on you. You looked a little tired today during the meeting.”
He blinked. She noticed?
Warmth spread through him—unexpected, impossible to hide.
“I’ve just been settling into a new routine,” he said carefully.
“New routine?” she asked. “Are you okay?”
He smiled at the concern in her voice.
“I’m perfect. Better now, actually.”
There was a quiet moment—a tender, gentle beat that neither of them rushed to fill.
“Okay,” she finally said softly. “Just checking on you. Get some rest, Alfred.”
“You too, Catherine.”
When the call ended, Alfred exhaled slowly, staring at the stars emerging above the hills. He felt seen, not by shareholders or strategists or analysts—but by someone who cared without motives.
He whispered into the still evening air:
“She’s going to change my whole life.”
And deep down, he knew she already had.
- Writer
