chapter 5
1030 Words
I cried the whole ride home.
Not the kind of crying that makes you feel lighter after.
No.
The kind that leaves you empty. Numb. Ashamed.
His voice was still in my head.
“You’re not my type.”
“I don’t marry little girls playing dress-up.”
“You’re bleeding on my floor — that’s inconvenient.”
It looped over and over.
I got as far as my room and dropped like a log on my bed in my dress and tight-fitting shoes. I glared at the ceiling, expecting it to have answers for me.
Why was I ever able to believe that I could do some great thing?
How did I assume I could make any difference — not even a millisecond — to somebody like him?
The tears came in waves until I had nothing left.
By morning, my eyes were swollen. My chest hurt in places I couldn’t explain.
I dragged myself to the shelter, avoiding the mirror the whole way there. I was exhausted. Emotionally bruised. And I couldn’t tell Helen. Not all of it.
But she was waiting by the coffee machine with her arms crossed, already suspicious.
“Well?” she asked.
I looked away. “It didn’t work out.”
“That’s it?” she frowned. “That’s all you’re going to tell me?”
I gave her a tight shrug. “He wasn’t interested.”
Helen’s eyes narrowed.
“What did he say?”
“Nothing I didn’t deserve.”
That was all I could manage. The truth felt too raw. Too embarrassing. I didn’t want her to look at me the way he had.
But Helen wasn’t having it.
“Give me his name,” she said suddenly.
“What?”
“The guy,” she said. “The arrogant scumbag who rejected my sweet, beautiful Isabel. What’s his name?”
I hesitated.
“Damien,” I muttered. “Damien Knight.”
Her brows lifted so high I thought they might disappear into her scalp.
“Wait. Damien Knight?” she repeated. “As in Knight Global?”
My silence confirmed it.
She whipped out her phone so fast it nearly slipped from her fingers.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, eyes darting across the screen. “Isabel… he’s not just rich. He’s filthy rich. Like I-own-air rich. Like step-on-people-in-silk-shoes rich.”
“I know.”
Helen looked up at me, then down at the phone, then back at me. “Girl.”
I exhaled slowly. “It doesn’t matter. I messed it up. It’s done.”
Helen didn’t answer right away. She just kept looking at me — my tired eyes, my slumped shoulders, the way my spirit had given up.
Then her voice turned hard.
“No. You don’t get to give up.”
I blinked at her.
“You think because some billionaire insulted your shoes you’re supposed to crawl into a hole?” she snapped. “Absolutely not.”
“I don’t even know where to find him again.”
Helen smirked. “Fate has a way.”
I smiled back. I hoped it was true. So I continued my work, helping other elders with their stuff.
“Isabel, I have something I have to rush to. Could you help me move the magazines to the front desk?” Janice pleaded.
“Yeah, sure,” I said with a smile as she rushed out.
I walked up to the magazines, brought them to the front desk. I was browsing through them mindlessly when one glossy cover attracted my attention.
Knight Global to Host Annual Gala Tonight — Exclusive Event.
There he was.
Damien.
Black tux. Blank expression. Looking like sin in a suit.
I stared at the headline like it had punched me.
Tonight.
I could feel my heart start to race.
It was like the universe had opened a door just wide enough for me to slip through — if I had the guts.
This time, I wasn’t going to show up in borrowed heels and panic.
This time… I would come prepared.
I used what little savings I had and marched into one of the highest-ranked boutiques in the city. Everything in that place screamed money. Elegance. Power.
But I didn’t flinch.
I walked out of there with a dress that whispered secrets. A deep navy silk that clung like it knew every part of me. My hair was styled back in soft waves, my lips painted in deep wine, eyes framed with smoky lashes.
I looked in the mirror and barely recognized myself.
This was a woman who could own a room.
Not beg to be in one.
But there was one last problem.
The event was strictly by invitation.
I paced outside the shelter, phone clutched in my hand, heart thudding.
I called Helen.
“I need to get into the gala tonight,” I told her. “I don’t have an invitation.”
She didn’t hesitate.
“Leave it to me.”
Turns out, Helen had a cousin who worked at the event’s catering service. With some convincing (and a small bribe), I got my hands on a staff badge — and an excuse to walk through the front door.
The venue was stunning.
Golden chandeliers. Glass staircases. Music playing like magic through the walls. Everyone looked like they belonged on magazine covers — sharp suits, glittering dresses, polished confidence.
And then there was me.
Not borrowed. Not broken.
Me.
I moved through the crowd like I was born for it, heels clicking softly across marble, champagne untouched in my hand.
Then I saw him.
Damien.
Speaking with one of his business partners, looking far too composed for someone who once called me a desperate little girl.
But I wasn’t that girl anymore.
And I wasn’t going to wait.
I walked up to him slowly, calm and sure, and when I reached him — I let my hand gently slide into his.
His head turned, confused at first.
But when he saw me…
He froze.
His eyes locked on mine.
And I smiled, just enough to sting.
“Love,” I said sweetly, “I’ve been searching for you.”
- Writer
