Beyond the Veil

Chapter 1

The pungent aroma of coffee wafted through the air as I tried to balance the tray filled with steaming cups. My nerves were on edge; this wasn't the sort of job I had ever envisioned doing. But here I was, a starving artist working as a café assistant, serving ridiculously overpriced lattes to the über-rich.

And today, I had the misfortune of stepping into Luis Tower.

Adrian Luis--his name sent shivers down my spine every time I heard it. The man who destroyed my family's life without so much as blinking. The man whose empire stood on the ruins of people like us.

I hated him, even though I'd never met him.

"Come on, Isabella," I muttered to myself as I walked through the gleaming, intimidating lobby. The receptionist barely spared me a glance; her perfectly manicured hand waved me toward the elevator.

"Top floor," she said shortly, before returning to her phone.

The top floor——Of course. That's where people like Adrian Luis belonged, far above the rest of us.

I stepped into the elevator, trying to ignore the knot that tightened in my stomach. The sleek, mirrored walls reflected a version of me that was increasingly unrecognizable: pale, tired eyes, faint smudges of paint on my hands that no amount of scrubbing could wholly remove.

“You can do this.” I repeated to myself. It wasn't like I was actually going to meet him.

Billionaires like Adrian Luis didn't waste their time on catering deliveries.

When the elevator doors opened, I stepped out into a world I'd only seen in movies. The office was a cathedral of glass and steel, with beautiful views of the city skyline. People in tailored suits moved with purpose, barely acknowledging my presence.

"Over here," a voice said briskly.

A woman in a sharp blazer waved me toward a conference room. I walked in, placing the tray of drinks on the table, and then it happened.

"Careful!" a deep, cold voice barked.

I froze. My hand jerked, sending a cup of coffee falling down. I turned toward the voice and found myself staring into the sharp, unyielding eyes of Adrian Luis.

The photos didn't do him justice. He was taller, broader, with an air of command that made the room shrink. His tailored suit fit him to perfection, but it was that glint of disapproval in his eyes that made my skin crawl.

"I—I'm so sorry," I stammered, desperately trying to steady the cup.

"Sorry doesn't fix anything," he said shortly. "Clean it up."

The room was silent. The executives around the table looked at each other awkwardly but said nothing.

My face burned as I grabbed napkins from the tray, my hands shaking as I mopped up the spill.

"I didn't mean to—" I began, but his sharp voice cut me off.

"Meaning doesn't matter. Results do."

His words stung, and for a brief moment, I wanted to scream at him, to remind him that not everyone in the world had a life handed to them on a silver platter.

But I didn't. I couldn't.

Instead, I kept my head down, muttering another apology before gathering the empty tray and fleeing the room.

Back in the lobby, my hands still shook as I clutched the tray. My heart was racing, and the humiliation of the encounter burned in my chest.

"Rough day?" a soft voice asked.

I turned to see Lily, my coworker, standing by the counter with a sympathetic smile.

"You have no idea," I muttered.

Lily c****d her head; her brown eyes were curious. "Was it the top floor? I heard Mr. Luis can be… intimidating.”

"That's one way to put it," I said, more bitterly than I intended.

"What happened?" She asked

I hesitated. I wasn't sure if I wanted to spill. But Lily was nice, and the weight in my chest felt too heavy to carry alone.

"I spilled a bit of coffee," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "And he made sure everyone in the room knew it."

Lily winced. "Ouch. He's known for being… cold."

“Cold? He's practically made of ice." I sighed. "But what do you expect from someone who ruins lives for a living?"

Her brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

I bit my lip, realizing I might've said too much.

"Nothing," I said quickly, brushing past her. "I just need to get out of here. I packed my stuff and walked out of the restaurant.

That night, I sat in my small apartment staring at the unfinished canvas in front of me. No matter how hard I tried, I just could not focus. Adrian Luis’s piercing gaze haunted me, his words echoing in my mind.

“Sorry doesn't fix anything. Results do.”

It was infuriating. How could someone so privileged look down on people who were just trying to get by?

I picked up my brush, smearing bold, angry strokes across the canvas. My emotions spilled out in reds and blacks, the colors blending into a chaotic storm.

"You'll pay," I whispered to myself, the words slipping out before I realized it.

For the first time in years, I felt something other than helpless. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

Two days later, I found myself at the café where the sharp knock on the counter drew my attention.

"Isabella Grace?"

I looked up and found a man in his suit. He was holding a folder, his expression unreadable.

"Uh, yes?"

He held out the folder. "Mr. Luis asked that I deliver this to you."

"Mr. Luis?" I asked, my gut twisting.

The man only nodded curtly and walked off.

I opened the folder, my hands shaking. Inside was a letter and a check with more zeros than I'd ever seen in my life.

The letter was short, typed in precise, impersonal language.

Miss Joe,

I was impressed by the painting I saw at the gallery last week. I'd like to commission a series for my private collection. This is an advance payment.

Sincerely,

Adrian Luis.

I stared at the check, my mind spinning.

“He wants to buy my art?" I whispered, the words tasting strange on my tongue.

For a moment, I considered ripping the check in half. The idea of working for Adrian Luis was infuriating but the truth was, I needed the money.

And maybe… just maybe, this was my chance to make him pay.