Chapter 1 - The Woman in Borrowed Heels
A woman in mismatched heels stumbled across the marble floor and whispered, “Please don’t let me fall.”
Julian Cross was standing beside the private elevators when he laughed.
Then he noticed the blood on her heel.
Inside her worn leather folder was a document with his company’s name on it.
And suddenly, the interview was no longer an interview.
At 8:43 that wet Tuesday morning, Ava Monroe walked into Crosswell Development with one goal: get through the interview without falling apart.
She had practiced her answers for three nights.
She had ironed her navy dress beneath a stack of textbooks because her apartment had no ironing board.
She had twisted her brown hair into a professional bun.
And she had borrowed the shoes from a woman at the nonprofit where she used to work.
Unfortunately, the woman wore a size seven.
Ava wore a size eight.
She had discovered the problem halfway to downtown Chicago.
By then, she had already spent almost all the money left on her transit card.
Her checking account held exactly eighteen dollars.
So she kept walking.
Inside the marble lobby, everything looked expensive enough to make her nervous.
The floor reflected the ceiling lights.
The walls were lined with dark stone.
Men in tailored suits spoke quietly into phones.
Women carried leather portfolios that probably cost more than Ava’s monthly grocery budget.
And beside the private elevator stood the man she had seen on the cover of three business magazines.
Julian Cross.
Thirty-nine.
CEO of Crosswell Development.
Six-foot-three.
Dark hair.
Sharp jaw.
Charcoal suit.
Silver watch.
Expression carved from stone.
Ava knew his reputation.
Everyone did.
He was brilliant.
Demanding.
Private.
And according to one former employee, almost impossible to impress.
Ava had hoped she wouldn’t meet him.
She had been wrong.
Her left heel clicked.
Her right heel slipped.
She recovered.
Then the larger shoe slid forward again.
Ava windmilled her arm.
Three executives stared.
She caught herself.
And kept walking.
Behind her, Julian laughed.
It was brief.
Almost accidental.
But it stopped her.
Ava turned.
Julian’s expression had already changed.
His chief of staff, Noah Bell, looked as shocked as everyone else.
Ava looked directly at Julian.
“You think that’s funny?”
Julian blinked.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You laughed.”
His eyes dropped to her shoes.
“You nearly fell.”
Ava looked down.
“Yes.”
Then she looked back at him.
“One shoe is a seven. The other is an eight.”
Nobody spoke.
Ava tightened her grip on the leather folder.
“The resale store sold them as a pair. I noticed after I got home.”
Julian said nothing.
“I had eighteen dollars left until Friday,” she continued. “I could either buy another pair or put enough money on my transit card to get here.”
Noah slowly lowered his tablet.
“So I chose the interview.”
Something changed in Julian’s face.
Not sympathy.
Something harder to identify.
Ava turned toward reception.
“I’m here for the community operations position.”
The receptionist checked her screen.
“Ava Monroe?”
“Yes.”
Julian’s eyes sharpened.
He knew the name.
He had reviewed the applicant list that morning.
Ava Monroe.
Twenty-nine.
Bachelor’s degree.
Housing nonprofit experience.
Property management experience.
Fourteen-month employment gap.
Current address: 1847 West Briar Street.
Julian’s expression became unreadable.
Ava noticed.
“You know the address.”
He didn't answer.
She smiled faintly.
“Of course you do.”
Noah glanced at Julian.
The West Briar building was one of Crosswell’s recent acquisitions.
It was also scheduled for clearance.
Nineteen days from now.
Ava walked toward the reception desk.
Julian stopped her.
“You're interviewing with Patel and Morrison?”
“That’s what my email said.”
“Not anymore.”
She turned.
“You're interviewing with me.”
The private elevator opened.
Noah stared at his boss.
“We’re late for the acquisition call.”
“Move it.”
“Julian—”
“Move it.”
Ava followed him into the elevator.
The doors closed.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Julian looked at her shoes.
“Take them off.”
Ava frowned.
“I’m sorry?”
“You’re bleeding.”
She glanced down.
A thin red line had appeared beside her heel.
“I can survive a job interview.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
She looked at him.
“You always give strangers orders?”
“Yes.”
“That must be charming.”
Noah turned toward the elevator wall.
Julian almost smiled.
Almost.
When they reached the forty-second floor, Ava followed them into a private conference room.
She sat.
Noah placed water in front of her.
Julian remained standing.
“Tell me why you want this job.”
Ava opened her mouth.
Then stopped.
Her fingers rested on the leather folder.
She could have given him the answer from her résumé.
Instead, she said quietly:
“Because your company is about to throw forty-three families out of their homes.”
Julian froze.
May you like
Ava opened the folder.
And placed the first document on the table.
