The first sound Adrian Vale remembered from childhood wasn't laughter—it was silence. That heavy kind of silence that pressed against the walls of their mansion like invisible weight. He was eleven when his father died, and twelve when his mother followed, though not by fate alone.
People said she died of a weak heart. But Adrian knew better.
He remembered the way his stepmother, Marissa Vale, smiled at the funeral—beautiful, polished, and completely hollow. She had been his father's second wife, a woman too young to be called "mother," too proud to show love. Adrian had once tried to earn her affection, calling her "Mom," hoping for warmth. Instead, she laughed softly and said, "Don't call me that, Adrian. I'm not your mother."
After that, he stopped trying.
The Vale mansion became a cold palace. The walls echoed only with the sound of heels on marble and the ticking of antique clocks. His elder brother, Ethan, had already left for boarding school, leaving Adrian to face Marissa's scorn alone.
There were nights when he cried quietly into his pillow, clutching the small silver pendant his real mother had given him—a tiny heart locket with her picture inside. He never opened it after her death. It hurt too much to look at her face.
One evening, he came home from school to find the locket missing. Panic struck him. He searched everywhere—his room, the drawers, the table. Then he heard laughter from the terrace.
Marissa stood there, twirling the pendant between her fingers.
"Looking for this?" she asked, her lips curving with satisfaction.
"Give it back," Adrian said, trembling.
She smirked. "Your mother was a weak woman. She couldn't even handle the truth about your father. You're better off without memories like that."
Before he could move, she dropped the pendant into the fire pit beside her.
The flames swallowed the only piece of his mother he had left.
That night, Adrian Vale stopped crying. He stood by his window and watched the rain blur the city lights, and something inside him hardened. If love could burn so easily, he decided, then it wasn't real. He would never allow his heart to make him weak again.
---
Years passed. The fragile boy became a man carved out of ice and ambition.
At twenty-eight, Adrian Vale was the CEO of ValeTech Industries—one of the largest private tech conglomerates in the country. People called him a genius, a prodigy, a visionary. The media called him "The Billionaire with a Stone Heart."
He never denied it.
Every morning, he arrived at his office before anyone else, his suit perfectly tailored, his watch precise to the second. His assistants learned never to ask personal questions, never to comment on his private life. He didn't date, didn't attend social gatherings unless absolutely necessary.
Love, he told himself, was for fools.
That Monday morning, the city was bathed in soft sunlight. The skyline glittered through the glass walls of ValeTech Tower. Adrian sat behind his mahogany desk, reviewing a report when his intercom buzzed.
"Sir," his assistant, Helen, said. "Miss Clara just handed in her resignation."
Adrian's pen paused mid-signature. "Effective when?"
"Immediately, sir. She—uh—got married over the weekend."
Married. Of course. Another one lost to 'love.'
He exhaled slowly. "Fine. Find a replacement."
"There's already one waiting for an interview, sir. Should I send her in?"
He glanced at the time. 9:05 a.m. He hated interruptions. But something about Helen's hesitant tone made him nod. "Send her in."
A few seconds later, the door opened.
And Ivy Dawson stumbled into his office—literally.
Her shoe caught on the carpet edge, and the stack of folders she was carrying flew into the air like startled birds. Papers rained down across the floor, one landing perfectly on Adrian's desk.
"Great first impression," she muttered to herself, cheeks flaming as she knelt to gather them.
Adrian leaned back, watching her silently. She wasn't like the usual applicants who came with sleek suits and colder smiles than his own. She wore a modest navy dress, her brown hair tied into a loose bun, a few rebellious strands framing her face.
When she finally looked up, her eyes met his—soft hazel eyes that carried both innocence and quiet strength. For a fleeting moment, something inside his chest tightened.
"Good morning, Mr. Vale," she said, standing quickly. "I—I'm Ivy Dawson. Here for the secretary position."
He motioned toward the chair across from him. "You're late."
"I know, and I'm really sorry. The elevator stopped between floors and—" She caught herself. "But I'm here now."
Her honesty was disarming. Most people in his office lied without blinking.
He folded his hands. "Tell me, Miss Dawson. Why should I hire someone who can't even walk properly into a room?"
She blinked, then smiled—a genuine, playful smile. "Because I make up for clumsiness with dedication. And because, apparently, your last secretary left without notice. So maybe I'm your only hope today."
Adrian almost smiled—but didn't. He wasn't sure if she was brave or foolish.
He looked over her résumé. "You graduated with a degree in Business Administration. Experience?"
"Two years as a personal assistant at Rovel Media," she said. "But I quit because my boss thought my handwriting was a personality flaw."
He arched a brow. "Is it?"
She leaned forward conspiratorially. "Between us, yes."
For the first time in years, a quiet chuckle escaped him—barely audible, but it startled even him. Helen, who was standing by the door, blinked in shock. She had never heard her boss laugh.
Ivy noticed. "Was that a laugh, Mr. Vale? Should I record it as company history?"
He cleared his throat, instantly composed again. "I don't recall laughing, Miss Dawson."
"Of course not," she said softly, her eyes twinkling.
He set her résumé down. "Do you believe in love, Miss Dawson?"
She tilted her head. "That's… not a normal interview question."
"Answer it."
Her lips curved. "Yes, I do. Even when it makes no sense."
He studied her quietly. Her confidence wasn't arrogant; it was pure, almost contagious. "Love makes people weak," he said coldly.
"Or strong," she countered.
He didn't reply. The air between them grew heavy—silent but charged. Adrian's gaze lingered on her longer than he meant to. There was something familiar about the way she smiled, something that reminded him of a woman he'd once known.
"Fine," he said finally. "You're hired."
Ivy blinked. "Wait… really?"
"Report tomorrow at 8 a.m. sharp. Don't be late again."
She grinned. "I won't. Thank you, Mr. Vale."
As she turned to leave, she almost tripped again on the carpet. Adrian caught her wrist instinctively before she fell. For a brief second, their eyes met—close enough that he could see the flecks of gold in her hazel irises.
Her pulse raced beneath his touch. His own heartbeat… stuttered.
He released her quickly, frowning at the unfamiliar warmth spreading through his chest.
When she left, the room felt strangely empty. Adrian stared at the door for a long moment, then looked down at the report on his desk.
It was the same feeling he'd buried years ago—the one he'd promised never to feel again.
Outside his window, the sunlight reflected off the city skyline, bright and golden. For the first time in years, Adrian Vale wasn't thinking about profits, deadlines, or contracts.
He was thinking about a clumsy girl with a smile that somehow made his heart remember how to beat.