CHAPTER 2.

Leaving again?

The pain was too much. The fear was too much. Her vision blurred, the ceiling spinning above her as the sounds around her faded into a dull roar.

Vivian froze.

For half a second, the anger vanished from her face, replaced by something like panic. She stared at Ruby’s still body on the floor, her chest rising and falling too fast, her eyes fluttering shut.

“Ruby?” Vivian said sharply, as if expecting the girl to jump up.

Ruby didn’t move.

The silence that followed was louder than the crash had been.

Vivian’s heart slammed against her ribs. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She took a step back, then another, her mind racing. The house suddenly felt dangerous because of what could happen if anyone else walked in.

As if summoned by the thought, the front door opened.

“Vivian?”

Her husband’s voice echoed down the hallway.

Vivian spun around.

He stood there, confusion etched across his face, keys still in his hand. “I forgot my wallet,” he said. “What’s going on?”

He smelled the kitchen before he saw it.

His eyes widened as he took in the mess—the overturned pot, the spilled food, the chaos. Then his gaze dropped to the floor.

To Ruby.

“Ruby!” he shouted, rushing forward.

Vivian reacted instantly.

“She slipped!” she cried, forcing panic into her voice as she dropped to her knees. “I told her to be careful—she was cooking and she slipped and the pot fell on her!”

It came out fast, breathless, rehearsed in seconds.

Her husband knelt beside Ruby, his hands shaking as he touched her shoulder. “Ruby, baby, wake up. Please.” Ruby didn’t respond.

“She was insisting on cooking even though I told her to stop,” Vivian continued, tears forming in her eyes on command. “I turned my back for one second and then—this happened. I tried to catch her.”

Her husband didn't question it. Fear had swallowed everything else.

“Call an ambulance,” he said urgently.

“I already am,” Vivian said, reaching for her phone with trembling fingers.

She played the role perfectly—shaking, crying, devastated. Anyone watching would see a worried stepmother, a woman in shock over a terrible accident.

But inside, Vivian’s thoughts were cold and sharp, this cannot come back to me.

The ambulance arrived quickly, lights flashing against the house like accusing eyes. Paramedics rushed in, lifting Ruby carefully onto a stretcher. She was still unconscious, her breathing shallow.

Her father followed, his face pale, hands clenched into fists he didn’t even realize he’d made.

Vivian stayed close, her arm around him, whispering reassurances.

“She didn’t mean to,” Vivian said softly. “She was just trying to help.”

At the hospital, the hours dragged on like a punishment no one spoke aloud.

Doctors moved in and out. Nurses asked questions. Forms were signed, explanations were repeated, every time Vivian told the same story, Ruby had been cooking, she slipped.

It was an accident.

Her husband sat beside Ruby’s bed when they finally allowed them in. He held her hand carefully, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

“I should never have left,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t have stormed out.”

Vivian stood behind him, her expression sorrowful, her posture supportive.

Inside, she felt something else entirely.

The story had worked. No one was looking at her strangely.

Ruby stirred hours later, her eyes opening slowly, confusion clouding her face.

Her father leaned forward immediately. “Ruby? Can you hear me?” She nodded faintly.

“What happened?” he asked gently.

Ruby’s gaze drifted past him—to Vivian.

For a moment, something flickered in her eyes. Fear….memory. The weight of truth pressing against her chest.

Vivian met her stare calmly, the message was clear, Ruby swallowed.

“I… I fell,” she whispered.

Her father exhaled shakily, relief washing over his face. “Thank God.”

Vivian smiled softly.

……………

In the days after the hospital, her body healed faster than her mind. Bandages were changed, medications administered, voices spoke softly around her bed. The nurses smiled kindly. Doctors used careful words. Her father hovered like a shadow that refused to leave.

Vivian played her role flawlessly.

She brought soup she claimed to have cooked herself. She dabbed Ruby’s forehead with a cloth. She cried at the right moments, her shoulders shaking just enough to seem believable. To everyone else, she was the image of regret—a woman shaken by an accident she wished she could undo.

Only Ruby knew the truth and she understood how dangerous it was.

At night, when the hospital lights dimmed and the hallway quieted, Ruby lay awake staring at the ceiling, replaying the moment over and over. The way Vivian’s hands had moved. The suddenness. The look in her eyes when it happened.

Ruby’s fingers curled beneath the blanket as if gripping something invisible. Every time she closed her eyes, she smelled the kitchen again. Heard the crash. Felt the world tilt.

She never screamed in her sleep. She’d learned not to.

On the third day, a social worker came.

Her name was Mrs. Ade. She spoke gently, sat at the edge of the bed, asked careful questions about school, about home, about how Ruby felt living with her stepmother.

Vivian stayed by the door, arms folded loosely, smiling in that calm, patient way.

Ruby answered everything the way she was supposed to.

“Yes, ma’am, she’s kind, It was an accident, I just slipped.” Each word tasted like ash.

Mrs. Ade nodded, scribbling notes. “Accidents happen,” she said kindly. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” Ruby nodded too.

Vivian caught her eye and smiled wider.

That night, after Ruby was discharged, they returned home.

The house felt different.

The kitchen had been cleaned so thoroughly it no longer smelled like food. The tiles gleamed. The pot was gone. Ruby never asked where it went.

Her father insisted she rest. He moved her into the guest room temporarily, saying the bed was softer, closer to theirs. He hovered too much now—asking if she needed water, if she was in pain, if she wanted to talk.

Vivian encouraged it.

“Your father’s just worried,” she said sweetly. “He loves you so much. Ruby nodded.

Anderson Ruby's Father stood by the living room window, tall, immaculate in his suit, the early sunlight reflecting off his wristwatch. He had always been a man who commanded a room without speaking, someone whose presence alone made people straighten their backs. But today, he looked tired, older somehow, as though something had drained the color from his soul.

Ruby stood a few steps away, clutching the straps of her bag as she was going out for school lessons, she healed faster than anyone could have imagined.

“Dad… are you really leaving?” she asked quietly.

CHAPTER 3

Meeting Him

She hated that her voice trembled. She wished she sounded angry and would be brave enough to tell him to take her with him, but all that came out was fear.

Anderson exhaled, slow and heavy, before turning to her. His eyes softened for a moment, and Ruby caught a glimpse of the father she once knew—the one who carried her on his shoulders when she was six, the one who used to tell her stories at night before the house grew cold after her mother’s death.

“Yes, Ruby,” he said gently. “There are business issues that require my presence. I’ll only be gone a few months.”

A few months.

That was what he said last time. Last time, he promised three months and stayed almost a year.

Ruby swallowed hard. “But… Why now? You just got back.”

Anderson ran a hand through his hair, as though searching for the right words. “Grey Enterprises is on the verge of a partnership with a foreign firm. They need someone trusted to oversee the negotiations.”

“And it has to be you?” Ruby whispered.

“It has to be me,” he replied.

Those five words fell between them like stones.

Behind them, heels clicked against marble flooring—sharp, confident, and too familiar. Vivian appeared at the foot of the staircase wearing her satin robe, her expression carefully composed. She was the type of woman whose smile was never genuine unless she was getting something out of it.

“Darling, the car is ready,” Vivian said sweetly.

Anderson nodded, then looked back at his daughter. He hesitated, as if battling guilt he wasn’t sure how to process. “Ruby… I trust Vivian to take care of you.”

Ruby’s stomach twisted.

But she said nothing.

Because what was the point? He believed Vivian’s act—the loving wife facade he saw only on the surface.

He stepped closer and placed a hand on Ruby’s shoulder. “I need you to be strong.”

“I’ll call often,” he added, though his tone lacked conviction.

Ruby forced a nod.

Vivian’s expression tightened, but she quickly smoothed it into a soft smile. “She’ll be fine, Anderson. You don’t need to worry.”

Ruby wanted to scream that it was a lie. That she wouldn’t be fine.

But Anderson didn’t see her desperation, or he chose not to. Instead, he kissed her forehead briefly, then walked toward the door.

“Take care, Ruby,” he said.

And then he left.

Just like that.

The door closed with a hollow thud that echoed through Ruby’s chest.

When the car engine started, Vivian’s smile vanished instantly.

“Well,” she said sharply, crossing her arms. “Since your father is gone, you’d better behave. I don’t want unnecessary noise in this house. And don’t expect me to pamper you. You’re old enough to take care of yourself.”

Ruby lowered her gaze, her throat burning.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Vivian turned to leave but paused. “Oh—and don’t think about calling your father for every minor issue. He’s busy, and I won’t have you distracting him.”

Ruby nodded again, numb.

When Vivian disappeared into the kitchen, Ruby stood there for several seconds. The quiet felt heavier now, like it wrapped around her and pressed into her lungs.

Her father was gone, and she was alone again, with a woman who saw her as nothing but a responsibility she never wanted.

Ruby tightened her grip on her bag. She had no choice but to endure it—again. Be strong, she repeated to herself.

………..

She woke up late—thanks to Clara, who unplugged her phone from charging so the alarm wouldn’t ring.

By the time Ruby opened her eyes, the sun was already rising sharply through the thin curtains.

“Oh no…” she whispered, jumping off the bed.

She didn’t have the luxury of waking up late. Not in that house.

She rushed through her chores, sweeping, cooking, cleaning, and ironing Clara’s outfit for school. By the time she finally made it out of the house, she was breathless. She walked fast—almost running—hoping she wouldn’t miss too many morning lessons.

The road was busy, dusty, and noisy as usual. People hurried past her cars honked impatiently. Ruby clutched her torn bag to her chest, trying to navigate the crowded walkway.

She reached a junction and stepped forward, intending to cross—

Vroooom!

A black SUV swerved sharply around the corner, tires screeching against the asphalt. Ruby jumped back, her heart slamming against her ribs.

“Hey! Be careful!” a man shouted from across the road.

But it was too late—Ruby slipped on loose gravel and stumbled right into the street.

The SUV stopped inches from her.

Her breath caught.

For one moment, the world went silent.

The car door opened.

And he stepped out.

Leo Carter.

A man whose name carried weight, power, and mystery. Billionaire of Carter Holdings. A man people only saw on TV, magazines, or billboards. A man whose presence made even successful businessmen stammer.

CHAPTER 4

Leo Carter

He was tall, dressed in a perfectly fitted charcoal suit. His expression was sharp, intense-eyes like polished steel. His dark hair, slightly tousled from the morning breeze, softened his otherwise intimidating appearance.

He walked toward her with long, confident strides.

Ruby froze.

Her pulse thundered in her ears.

She had never seen someone like him in her entire life.

"Are you alright?" Leo asked, his voice deep, calm, but carrying authority.

Ruby opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her throat felt tight.

She nodded quickly.

But Leo didn't seem convinced. His gaze swept over her-her worn out shoes, her faded uniform, the small bruise forming on her knee.

"You almost got hurt," he said.

"I'm-I'm fine," she whispered.

A small crowd had gathered, murmuring.

"That girl is lucky. That car almost hit her."

"Isn't that Leo Carter?"

"Why is he talking to her?"

Ruby felt her cheeks burn. She hated attention. She hated being stared at like she didn't belong.

She stepped back, bowing her head.

"I'm sorry for causing trouble."

Leo raised an eyebrow. "Trouble? You fell. My driver should have slowed down."

He turned to his driver.

"Martin, watch blind corners. People walk here."

"Yes sir, I'm sorry sir."

Ruby blinked.

A billionaire apologizing on behalf of someone else?

She had never seen humility from even normal rich people, let alone a man like him.

"Do you need to go to a hospital?" Leo asked.

"Oh no sir!" Ruby quickly waved her hands. "Please don't bother yourself. I'm late for school already."

"School?" he repeated, eyes narrowing slightly, as if he was analyzing her entire life from that one word.

He glanced at her torn bag and the worn strap hanging by threads.

"What school?"

"Ridgeway High," she said softly.

He nodded slowly.

Then, without warning, he crouched slightly-yes, Leo Carter lowered himself-to look at her scrape.

Ruby panicked and stepped back. "Please, sir! You don't have to-"

"You're bleeding," he said, not listening.

"It's just a scratch," Ruby insisted. "I'm used to it-"

She stopped herself.

Leo's eyes lifted to hers sharply.

"Used to it?" he repeated with a tone that was almost too calm. A warning tone.

Ruby's stomach tightened. She looked away. She didn't want anyone to know about her life-especially not a stranger. Especially not a man who could read people too easily.

Leo straightened and nodded to Martin.

"Get the first aid kit."

"No, sir," Ruby pleaded again. "Please, I'm fine. I really need to go-"

"Are you always this stubborn?" Leo asked.

Ruby's breath hitched. "I'm not-"

A tiny smile touched his lips.

"Hold still."

Martin approached with the kit, and Leo took it from him, gently cleaning her knee. His touch was careful but confident-like someone used to taking control.

Ruby stared, confused.

No one in her family had touched her with such care in years.

She didn't understand why a billionaire would kneel to help a girl he didn't know.

When he finished, he stood up, closed the kit, and studied her again.

"What's your name?" Leo asked.

"Ruby," she whispered.

"Ruby..." he repeated, as if testing the name on his tongue. "Pretty name."

She flushed.

No one had said her name with that kind of softness in a long time.

Leo reached into his coat and pulled out a sleek black card.

"If you ever need help," he said, "call this number."

Ruby stared at the card like it was a forbidden object. She didn't reach for it.

"I don't think I should take that," she murmured.

"And why not?"

"Because..." she swallowed, "...people like you don't talk to people like me."

Leo's expression changed-sharp, unreadable.

"Take it," he said simply.

Ruby hesitated.

Leo stepped closer. "Ruby, life doesn't choose who to be kind to. People do."

Her heart trembled.

Slowly, with shaky fingers, she took the card.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Leo gave a small nod, turned, and walked back to the SUV.

The crowd dispersed.

She stood there, staring at the black card resting lightly in her palm.

Leo Carter Carter Holdings Private Line

Her own reflection stared back at her on the glossy surface.

Carter's mansion was quiet.

Not the peaceful silence of a home, but the kind that hovered in the air, heavy and expectant, as if the walls themselves knew what was coming.

Leo stood at the entrance, hands in his pockets, staring at the massive mahogany doors. He had been away from this house for months, drowning himself in work, hiding behind meetings, contracts, and flights across continents. Yet here he was again-summoned.

And nobody ignored a summons from Richard.

The doors opened before Leo could knock. The butler, Mr. Halden, bowed slightly.

"Welcome home, sir."

"Thank you," Leo muttered, stepping inside.

The mansion smelled of polished wood and expensive cologne. Everything seemed almost too clean, too flawless-like a museum meant to display the Carter name rather than house a family.

Leo walked past the grand staircase, his shoes silent on the marble floor. The closer he moved to his father's study, the colder the air felt.

He stopped at the heavy double doors, he knew the conversation waiting behind it, he also knew he couldn't avoid it any longer.

Leo exhaled slowly and pushed the door open.

Richard sat behind his enormous desk, dressed in a dark suit even though he wasn't going anywhere. His hair, once jet black, had begun to gray around the temples, giving him an even more commanding look.