In the other part of the city, in the towering headquarters of Grant Industries, Logan Grant sat at his large mahogany desk, reviewing documents with uncompromised attention.
One of his work assistants, Adam, stood right beside him, a tablet in hand, eagerly waiting for the orders.
"All the preparations for the charity banquet are complete, Mr. Grant," he said, peeling his eyes away from the tablet. "We're just awaiting confirmation from the mayor's office and the Parker family."
Logan nodded absently, his fingers tracing the rim of his coffee cup. "Add another name to the guest list."
"Of course. Who would you like to add?"
Logan looked up, his eyes darkening with intensity. "Amelie Gilmore."
Adam's pen hovered over his tablet. "I'm not familiar with that name. Which family is she with?"
A light smile graced Logan's lips as he took a sip of his coffee. "She is going solo."
"I see," Adam said, though confusion still lingered in his tone. The Grant charity banquet was the social event of the season, with invitations valued like gold among the city's high society. Adding an unknown name was largely unprecedented.
"Send the invitation to the villa I've arranged for her in Moonlight Heights. And Adam," Logan's voice suddenly dropped to a cooler level, "She is a VIP guest. She must be seated at my table."
Adam's eyes widened in shock. "Excuse me? But that is––"
"Spare me the lecture," Logan cut in smoothly. "When she comes to the banquet, I want everyone to know that she belongs to me."
***
AMELIE
I sighed with disappointment as I looked down at the small pouch of dried herbs I managed to find in a smaller pharmacy in the depths of the district.
At some point, I thought about giving up – the healing powers I had discovered were probably enough to keep me going, but at the same time, I knew that it could never be that simple.
The knowledge that had opened up inside my mind pushed me to gradually explore and improve my power, but the disappointment I kept facing was strong enough to make me feel reluctant.
"That doesn't look like much," a pleasant masculine voice echoed from behind me.
I nearly dropped my pouch in surprise. I slowly turned around to see Logan Grant lean against the villa's gate, a light smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
He was dressed in a simple black designer suit, yet the lack of color could never put a shadow over his gorgeous features.
"Mr. Grant," I stammered, frantically smoothing my clothes as if that could actually change anything. "I didn't expect to see you here!"
He stalked toward me, his every step heavy with confidence I suddenly no longer had. "I told you to call me Logan."
"Right," I murmured, "Logan... What brings you here?"
He did not answer right away. Instead, he carefully pulled the pouch from my hands and took a look inside. "What do you have here?"
"Some herbs..." I answered awkwardly – I couldn't understand why I suddenly felt so out of place in his presence.
"This is garbage," Logan declared, turning the pouch upside down and shaking its contents out.
"Hey!" I protested. "I mean... I spent all my money on that, you can't just throw it all out like this!"
"First of all," he frowned, clearly not regretting his actions. "You have been scammed. Secondly, if you are going to become a renowned healer, you need to work with only premium materials. Not this trash."
I recoiled from his announcement, heat blooming in my cheeks. He spoke so casually about my future as if it were something inevitable rather than merely possible. Despite having just met me, he was already strangely confident in my success.
Logan's expression softened as he studied my face. "You really don't see it, do you? The potential inside you?"
"I'm not really sure," I mumbled, averting my eyes. "I am very new to this. I don't know what I'm capable of yet."
"Well, I already have a pretty clear picture, though," he said, taking a few steps closer to me. His scent was fresh and calming, yet I couldn't help but feel intimidated by it.
"Just because some people see you as a doormat doesn't mean there won't be others who see a hidden gem." He reached out and tucked a strand of my wavy hair behind my ear, this subtle touch sending electricity through my entire body.
"I will make all the necessary arrangements. You will get a delivery first thing tomorrow morning. Just let me know what herbs you are looking for, and I'll take care of the rest."
"No, Mr. Grant, this is too much––" I started, but he immediately cut me off.
"This is merely enough if you ask me," he said coldly. "Like I said, consider it an investment. Once you are earning enough money as the most famous healer in this country, I will ask you to pay me back."
I couldn't help but smile at his dream-like presumption. "You seem very certain of my success."
"I'm an experienced businessman. If I am certain my investment will pay off, then it definitely will." He replied with complete authority. "Everyone says I have an eye for such things. I dare you to prove me wrong."
Despite his cold and businesslike tone, something in his eyes, something surprisingly warm and genuine, broke through the walls I had built around my broken heart.
After years of humiliation and bullying, finally having someone – especially someone like Logan Grant – believe in me so completely was truly overwhelming.
"Thank you," I said quietly, moving my eyes back at him. "Not just for the villa or the herbs you're offering, but for seeing something in me when no one else did."
His lips curved into a smile that transformed his already handsome face into something completely breathtaking. "You don't need to do that, Amelie."
Hearing my name spoken in his voice made my heart flutter like a caged bird. This moment, however, was shattered by the sound of several cars screeching to a halt outside the house. Logan frowned, turning toward the noise.
"Are you expecting someone?" he asked, arching a curious brow.
But before I could answer, the gate burst open, and at least a dozen men streamed into the front yard, led by a tall figure I recognized instantly from all the rumors.
Darren Daxx.
There he was, the king of rogues, standing right before me, his face twisted with a menacing grimace as his predatory eyes scanned me like a prey about to be devoured.
Even his expensive suit couldn't disguise the savage he actually was. Behind him, his men spread out in a semi-circle, their hands behind their backs.
"Amelie Gilmore," Darren's voice was surprisingly soft, almost gentle, which somehow made it more terrifying. "My friend tells me you have been rather rude to him. So rude, in fact, that he ended up with broken ribs. How do you propose we fix that?"