CHAPTER 2

Chapter 2

Rose’s knees throbbed as she knelt on the unforgiving pavement, the world blurring through her tears. The sharp sting of humiliation from the café owner’s cruelty still stinging her pride, but it was the ache in her heart that hurt most. She heard the roar of an engine, and in a split second, headlights bore down on her. Panic seized her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the impact, thinking—maybe this was how her story ended.

The screech of tires shattered the silence. The car jerked to a halt just inches away, the force sending a jolt through its passengers. Inside, Issac was thrown forward, confusion flashing across his face. “What’s the meaning of this, Smith?” he demanded, his tone sharp.

Smith, already unbuckling his seatbelt, replied breathlessly, “A girl was thrown in front of our car, boss. Sorry, I had to stop.”

Issac’s brow furrowed. He glanced out the window and saw the commotion: the café owner, red-faced and shouting, looming over a girl curled on the ground. The man’s voice was venomous. “You must die, you should die, you parasite!”

Rose trembled, her hands pressed to her bleeding knees. She wanted to shout the truth—that she’d only defended herself, that she’d been harassed—but who would believe her? She was nobody, and in this city, money always spoke louder than justice.

Issac stepped out of the car, his presence commanding. He strode toward the scene, his tailored suit immaculate, his expression unreadable. He paused, taking in the trembling girl and the furious owner. Without hesitation, he knelt beside Rose, his voice suddenly gentle. “Are you alright?”

Startled, Rose opened her blue eyes, meeting the deep black gaze of the stranger before her. For a moment, the world faded—the pain, the fear, the humiliation. She saw only him, his concern genuine, his tone calm and soft.

Smith, watching from the car, nearly dropped his jaw. In all his years working for Issac Hynes, he’d never seen his boss show tenderness toward anyone, let alone a stranger.

The café owner, still bristling with rage, stepped forward, spitting out, “You bitch—stop—”

Issac’s eyes snapped up, fixing the man with a cold, dead stare. The owner’s words died in his throat as recognition dawned. He stumbled back, suddenly silent, fear replacing his anger.

Rose’s tears slowed as she watched the owner retreat. She turned to Issac, confusion and gratitude mingling in her gaze. “Who are you?” she whispered.

“Issac,” he replied simply. “And you?”

“Ro...Rose.... Rose Bluebell.” She replied stammering

Issac’s eyes flicked to her knees, where blood trickled down her shins. “You’re hurt,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact but gentle. “Come with me.”

She nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “Thanks.”

Without another word, Issac slid his arms beneath her, lifting her effortlessly from the ground. Rose gasped, unused to such care, but she didn’t resist. She clung to him, her face buried in his chest as he carried her to the waiting car.

Smith quickly opened the back door, eyes wide with disbelief. Issac settled Rose gently onto the seat, then climbed in beside her. The door shut, muffling the chaos outside.

As the car pulled away, Rose glanced back at the café—the place that had given her hope and then snatched it away. She felt Issac’s steady presence beside her, his silence comforting rather than cold.

...TO BE CONTINUED ...

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