Chapter 3: The Beginning of a Different Life

Monday morning arrived with a weight Mira hadn’t expected.

Her alarm rang at six, but she had been awake for nearly an hour already, staring at the cracked ceiling of her bedroom. The apartment smelled faintly of the burnt toast her mom had attempted before work, and the buzz of the city crept in through the single-pane windows.

This was it. The beginning of something she still didn’t fully understand.

She sat up, swung her legs over the side of the bed, and looked down at her outfit for the day, laid out with obsessive precision. Black slacks, a tucked-in white blouse, and a dark navy blazer Gina had lent her from an old internship. The outfit didn’t scream wealth, but it whispered competence, and right now, that felt like all she could afford to say.

Mira dressed quickly, twisted her hair into a low bun, and added a pair of small silver earrings. Then, standing in front of the mirror, she took a deep breath.

“You can do this,” she told her reflection. “You’ve served drunks at 2 a.m., talked down a furious landlord, and survived finals on two hours of sleep. You can definitely survive one billionaire.”

Still, her hands trembled slightly as she picked up her phone and saw the text from Leo.

Driver will pick you up at 8:15. Bring only what you need. Welcome to the Cavendish team.

She replied with a simple, “Thank you. I’ll be ready.”

At exactly 8:15, a sleek black car pulled up in front of her building. Mira tried not to feel self-conscious as she stepped outside, conscious of the cracked concrete, the graffiti on the bus stop bench, and the elderly woman pushing a squeaky cart past her.

The driver stepped out and opened the door for her with a nod.

“Mira Lin?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Cavendish is expecting you. We’ll head to the SkySpire now.”

She settled into the plush leather seat, her nerves tightening as the city slipped past the tinted windows. She was used to riding through this part of town—the bustling Midtown stretch that glittered with glass towers and overpriced coffee shops—but never like this. Never as someone meant to belong.

The SkySpire was impossible to miss. A forty-seven-story glass monument in the heart of the city, its surface curved like a wave catching the morning light. Mira had walked past it dozens of times, usually on her way to her second job or the subway. She’d never imagined she’d walk through its doors.

The car pulled into the underground garage, and within moments, she was led to a private elevator by a sharp-eyed receptionist who looked like she’d walked off a Vogue cover.

Mira resisted the urge to fix her blazer. She didn’t want to look nervous. Or impressed.

But then the elevator opened to the top floor, and all pretenses melted.

The office was stunning—floor-to-ceiling windows offered an uninterrupted view of the city skyline, from the harbor to the hills. The interior was minimalist, all white and charcoal gray, accented with gold fixtures and massive pieces of abstract art. A few assistants moved quietly between glass-walled offices.

At the center of it all stood Leo.

He was wearing a tailored gray suit today, no tie, and a silver watch that gleamed when he turned toward her. He was speaking to a woman holding a tablet, but the moment he saw Mira, he raised a hand and the woman stepped back.

“You came,” he said.

“You sent a car. It felt rude to refuse,” she replied, managing a small smile.

Leo nodded, amused. “Follow me.”

He led her past the main space into a smaller, glass-walled corner office with a private desk, a laptop already open, and a tablet beside it. The city view from here was even more breathtaking.

“This is your workspace,” he said simply.

She blinked. “I... I thought I’d be working with the other assistants.”

“You’re not one of them,” he said. “You work directly with me.”

Before she could respond, he added, “There are rules. First, you’ll have access to my schedule, personal and professional. Discretion is critical. Second, if I ask for something, it’s because I need it done quickly. If you’re ever unsure, ask. And third... you’re allowed to disagree with me. I find that useful.”

Mira tilted her head. “Is that a test?”

Leo gave her a half smile. “Everything is, eventually.”

She took a breath. “Then here’s my first disagreement: this is way too much for a first day.”

He chuckled—a low, brief sound—but it softened his expression. “Noted.”

A knock sounded, and a woman with a sleek ponytail stepped inside. “Mr. Cavendish, the board is ready for the 9:30.”

“Thank you, Celine,” he said, then turned to Mira. “Come with me. Time to see how deep the water is.”

---

The boardroom was all polished oak, LED screens, and men in expensive suits who barely looked twice at Mira as she entered behind Leo.

He introduced her briskly. “This is Mira Lin. She’ll be shadowing me. Continue.”

And they did. The meeting was a whirlwind of development plans, Q2 projections, and land acquisitions Mira had never dreamed of. She tried to take notes on the tablet, scribbling down terms to Google later—"leveraged assets," "urban zoning freeze," "VC retaliation strategy."

Leo spoke little, but when he did, the room listened. Mira could see it now—the version of him the world admired or feared. Polished. Precise. Strategic.

But once, when the CFO made a smug comment about a competitor's misstep, Mira saw Leo glance toward her, just briefly, like checking if she found the boardroom wolves as ridiculous as he did.

She did.

Afterward, he walked with her to the private lounge on the thirty-sixth floor, where a barista had prepared two drinks already waiting on a marble counter.

“Flat white with cinnamon,” Leo said, handing one to her.

Her eyes widened. “How did you—?”

“You ordered it twice at the diner. I have a memory for useful details.”

Mira sipped the drink, surprised it was exactly right. “You’re not like I expected.”

“How did you expect me to be?”

“Colder,” she said. “More arrogant.”

Leo shrugged. “I have a reputation to maintain. But I like context. You gave me that, the night of the crash.”

She looked at him closely now. “What happened that night?”

He didn’t answer right away.

“I walked out of a meeting with my father,” he said finally. “Let’s just say we didn’t agree on the future of the company. Or my role in it. That crash wasn’t just an accident. I was distracted. Angry.”

Mira nodded slowly. “And now?”

“Now I’m building a team I trust,” he said. “Starting with you.”

She laughed softly. “Still not sure I belong here.”

Leo looked at her, and this time, there was no calculation in his gaze—just something quiet. Real.

“You do,” he said. “You just don’t believe it yet.”

---

By the end of the day, Mira’s mind was swimming. She had sat in on three more meetings, helped coordinate a last-minute press release, and learned more about digital scheduling tools than she thought possible. Her tablet buzzed with alerts, emails, and team messages. It was overwhelming—but it was also thrilling.

For the first time in years, she felt like her brain was being used for something bigger than remembering coffee orders and keeping customers from yelling.

As she left the building just after seven, the city was beginning to light up. The sky was fading to deep blue, and the streets shimmered with headlights and neon.

Leo’s voice came through her earpiece—something she’d been fitted with before lunch.

“Mira?”

“Yes?”

“Good work today. I know I threw you in the deep end.”

She smiled. “I can swim.”

There was a pause.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

---

As Mira walked toward the subway, her heels clicking against the pavement, she realized something strange was happening.

She didn’t just want to survive in this world.

She wanted to thrive in it.

And Leo Cavendish—billionaire, mystery, storm—was no longer just a man from a headline.