Raven sat behind her desk, expression unreadable, as Brandon stepped in.
"Sebastian Ashford," she began, voice sharp, "was a dangerous man. Before he died, he hid five metric tons of gold in a vault—and the only way in is through a passcode. Hidden with it is the Dante File—a dossier of high‑level secrets on the world's most powerful elites. That's what we want."
Brandon leaned in. "So all I have to do is crack the code out of his daughter?"
Raven shook her head. "Not that simple. Rosita Ashford isn't someone you just interrogate. Sebastian trained her to protect that code with her life. She won't give it up—not unless…"
"Unless what?" Brandon asked, brow raised.
Raven stood, walked to the window, then turned.
"You get close to her," she said calmly. "Help her build a life. Be there long enough, and she'll think she can trust you. She might tell you then."
Brandon paused, a slow smile forming. "So all I have to do is get close to her? That shouldn't be hard. But what if she never cracks?"
"Then use whatever means necessary," Raven said coldly. "Mission starts now." She slid a file across the desk.
Inside: her preferences, her dislikes, her allergies, her routines. Everything Raven had compiled. Rosita was at the zoo today—every third Friday of the month, alone. No bodyguards. Only one unmistakable trait: her golden long hair—hard to hide.
Brandon closed the file with a confident flick. "Right away, boss."
He was halfway out the door when Jason appeared.
"Hey, Jay‑jay. How's it goin'?" Brandon greeted him casually.
Jason didn't look up. "I heard you're on a new mission. Shouldn't you be preparing?"
Brandon's grin widened. "Oh come on, don't be like that. I heard you were first assigned this—why didn't you take it?"
Jason didn't flinch. "Because that's not how I operate. I refused that mission for many reasons. Now move—I have other things to attend to."
He walked right past him.
Brandon pouted dramatically. "Oh, come on… no fun at all."
He checked his watch. "Oops—better get to the zoo."
---
At the zoo, Brandon arrived just in time.
"Raven said she'd be easy to spot… gold hair, golden aura or something—damn…"
He scanned the crowd, then suddenly spotted her.
"There. That's her."
Rosita stood near the hippos, completely absorbed.
"Wow… hippos are insane," Brandon started "Did you know they can swallow a watermelon whole? No chewing—just gulp. I'd kill for a mouth like that… no slow eating, just boom—done. I envy them…"
She immediately stepped sideways, hand darting into her bag—fingers closing around a taser and pepper spray.
"What do you want? Who are you?" Her tone was sharp, eyes narrowed like daggers.
Brandon didn't flinch. He simply smiled.
"I'm someone who wants to get to know you."
And with that, the real mission began.
"Trying to get to know me?" Rosita said sharply, eyes narrowing. "I'll assume you know who I am. So, what is it—my last name? The gold? Or are you just another man who thinks he can charm his way into something valuable?"
Brandon didn't flinch. His voice was calm, but deliberate. "What are you talking about?"
Then came a softer smile—measured, not overplayed.
"I approached you because you're… captivating," he said. "Last month—same day, same spot. You were here. Alone. Watching the animals like they were the only things in the world worth trusting. That caught my attention."
Her guard cracked—just slightly. The shift in her eyes said it all. She wasn't expecting that.
She turned away quickly, masking the faint blush on her cheeks. "You really think a few sweet words are going to work on me?" Her voice was laced with steel now. "I've seen your type. Men like you have always come with an angle—so don't insult me."
She spun on her heels and started walking away.
Brandon chuckled under his breath. "She's got walls made of iron."
Then he raised his voice, not moving. "Will I see you again?"
She paused.
"Same time next month?" he added, eyes still on her back.
Rosita didn't turn around. She didn't answer. But her steps slowed—just enough to let him know she heard.
Brandon smiled, gaze shifting back to the hippos. "That's not a no…"
And so, the game began.
Same time, next month. Brandon stood at the hippo enclosure again, hands in his pockets, scanning the crowd. He caught a glimpse of her—same hat, same scarf, same deliberate stride. He smiled and waved her over. Her eyes met his for a moment… then she turned and walked the other way without hesitation.
Brandon sighed, watching her disappear into the crowd. "Well... same time next month, I guess."
Another month passed.
This time, Rosita was the one at the hippo enclosure—alone, arms folded, silently cursing herself for showing up. She spotted him approaching and instinctively turned to leave. But before she could take two steps, Brandon reached out and gently caught her wrist.
"Wait," he said, his voice low—not forceful, but certain.
She yanked her hand free instantly, defensive. Brandon raised his hand calmly, then reached behind him and pulled something out.
"This," he said, revealing a bouquet of Middlemist Red—rare, vivid, impossible to mistake.
Rosita froze. Her eyes widened. "This… this is…"
"Middlemist Red," Brandon said, smiling. "Hard as hell to get. But I figured it suited someone like you."
She stared at the bouquet, disbelief written all over her face. "Do you even know what you just handed me? This flower—it's practically extinct. Why would you go that far just to impress someone you barely know? Why this one?"
Brandon shrugged slightly, still smiling. "I didn't get it to impress you. I got it because it's rare… beautiful… and deserves to be in the hands of someone who understands it. Like you."
Her cheeks flushed, her expression conflicted. She turned to leave, but after a few hesitant steps, she spun back, snatched the bouquet from his hands, and walked off without a word.
Brandon just chuckled, watching her go. "Progress."
Later, in the limousine…
Rosita sat quietly, bouquet resting on her lap like a secret she didn't know how to handle. The maid beside her, Sofia, glanced at the flowers.
"Those are stunning," she said gently.
Rosita didn't respond.
"Did… someone give them to you?" Sofia's tone was teasing. "Is it the person you always sneak off to meet at the zoo?"
Rosita's eyes widened. "Excuse me? I don't sneak off to meet anyone. I go there for the peace and quiet."
Sofia smirked. "Uh-huh. Except now you check the mirror three times before leaving. And today, you came back with that smile."
Rosita glared. "He means nothing. Just… just a parasite."
But her gaze lingered on the flowers. A small smile tugged at her lips before she could stop it.
"Aha! There it is again!" Sofia grinned. "You like him."
"I do not—!" Rosita snapped, turning red. "He's annoying. He talks too much. And he definitely thinks too highly of himself."
Sofia leaned closer, grinning. "And yet… your face is still red."
Rosita scowled and turned to the window, muttering under her breath.
"Stupid parasite…"
But she didn't let go of the bouquet.
The day after Brandon gave Rosita the rare bouquet, it was time for Sebastian Ashford's memorial. Dressed in elegant black, Rosita stood still for a moment, staring at her reflection before heading out. Her eyes, usually sharp and unreadable, held a quiet weight.
At the graveyard, she walked slowly toward her father's tombstone… only to pause. A fresh bouquet—one she didn't place—lay at the base. Her brows furrowed.
"Excuse me," she called out to an older woman nearby. "Did you happen to see who placed these flowers?"
The woman gave a thoughtful nod. "Ah yes, a young man was just here. Tall, wine hair. He left not long ago—if you're quick, you might catch him."
Rosita didn't hesitate. "Thank you!" she called as she broke into a sprint.
"My lady, please! You'll fall!" Sofia shouted, hurrying behind her.
Rosita's eyes scanned the crowd, desperation in her breath. Then she saw him. Just ahead, walking calmly away. "Hey—!" she called, but her ankle twisted and she stumbled forward—
Strong arms caught her mid-fall.
"Well, well… didn't expect you to throw yourself at me already," Brandon said with a teasing grin.
Rosita blinked, stunned. "You… what're you doing here?"
Brandon helped her up gently. "What? Can't a guy visit an old mentor?"
"Mentor?" she asked, cautious.
Sofia finally caught up, panting heavily. "My lady, you nearly gave me a heart attack… Oh!" She spotted Brandon and immediately bowed. "Forgive me, sir. I didn't see you there."
Brandon gave her a warm smile. "No harm done."
Sofia blinked, flustered. That smile… She was practically glowing.
Rosita noticed and cleared her throat sharply. "So… this mentor of yours. What was his name?"
"That would be…" Brandon paused, tilting his head slightly with a smirk. "Why do you want to know? Don't tell me… you're suddenly interested in me?"
Rosita's face flushed red instantly. She turned her gaze away, flustered. "W-What? Of course not! I have my reasons—just answer the question!"
Brandon chuckled softly, then his tone shifted. "Sebastian Ashford."
Rosita's eyes widened. "Sebastian Ashford… was your mentor?"
He nodded, his expression softening. "Yeah. Took me in when I had nothing. Gave me a second chance… sent me overseas to study, to build a future. By the time I came back, he was already gone. I never got to say thank you."
For a moment, Rosita looked moved—until her eyes narrowed sharply. "That's a lie."
Brandon blinked. "Huh?"
"Sebastian Ashford never helped anyone like that," she said, voice cold. "He was powerful, distant, and ruthless. He didn't believe in charity or favors. So no—your story doesn't add up."
He raised an eyebrow, pretending to be surprised. "And how would you know?"
"Because I'm his daughter," she snapped. "Rosita Ashford. His only child."
Brandon's eyes widened, just slightly. "Wait… you're—" he paused, then laughed under his breath. "Well, I'll be damned. He did mention a daughter once… but I never expected it to be you."
A long silence fell between them, heavy with unspoken questions.
Brandon eventually smirked, brushing a hand through his wine color hair. "So I guess you want answers now, huh?"
He nodded toward a nearby bench under the trees. "Come on. Let's sit. You've been running all over the place—you must be tired."
Rosita hesitated, still unsure… but curiosity was already pulling her forward.
They sat on the bench, a quiet space between them, the wind gently rustling the nearby trees. Brandon leaned back slightly, voice calm but firm.
"You might think I'm making it up," he said, eyes forward, "but Sebastian Ashford did help me. I've got the proof to back it."
Rosita crossed her arms, skepticism all over her face. "What kind of proof?"
"Documents," he replied without hesitation. "Official files. His personal signature on donation records—he sponsored my entire education abroad. You know as well as I do, forging Sebastian's signature isn't just hard—it's suicide and there's no way a nobody like me could achieve something like that. The man was meticulous. Untouchable."
He glanced at her. "If you want, I'll bring you the files. Then you'll see I'm not just throwing words around."
Rosita's cold exterior faltered. Her lips trembled. Then, without warning, tears started trailing down her cheeks.
Brandon sat up, concerned. "Hey—hey, what's wrong? Did I say something—?"
"No," she said quickly, wiping at her face, "it's not you… I just—" Her voice broke. "I'm relieved. All this time I thought… he left this world without doing anything good. But hearing this, from you…" She smiled faintly through the tears. "It's nice to know someone remembers him differently."
Brandon softened. He pulled a folded handkerchief from his jacket and offered it. "Here. Can't have anyone seeing you cry. That'd ruin your whole 'ice queen' image."
She laughed lightly, taking it. "Thanks," she said, then tried to hand it back.
"Keep it," Brandon said with a small smirk. "You might cry again, and I won't always be around to save you."
She shook her head, amused. "You're ridiculous."
Brandon's expression shifted—warmer now, sincere. "You know… I'm actually glad you turned out to be his daughter. Makes things easier."
Her brows furrowed. "Easier?"
"To repay a debt," he said simply. He reached into his coat and handed her a sleek black card. "You ever need anything—anything at all—call me. I don't care when or where. I'll show up."
She stared at the card, caught off guard. Brandon stood, about to walk away.
"Wait!" she called out.
He paused, glancing back.
"I never got your name," she said.
He grinned. "It's on the card."
And just like that, he turned and walked off, hands in his pockets.
Rosita looked down at the card in her hand.
Theodore.
A small smile played on her lips. "What a nice name…"
Sofia eyed the business card curiously. "Hmm… seems he owns a luxury clothing line. High-end. You should check it out sometime."
"I will," Rosita replied softly, holding the folded handkerchief close to her chest. "But not today… Today's for my father. I'll go when the time feels right."
— A Few Days Later —
Rosita finally stepped into the boutique. Sleek interior, glass and gold accents, the scent of leather and soft perfume in the air. Sofia walked beside her, wide-eyed.
"Whoa… who knew that charming guy was this stacked? This place is insane."
Rosita flipped through the racks halfheartedly. "What did you expect? My father helped build him. Of course he made something out of it."
A stylish employee approached with a polite smile. "Good afternoon, ma'am. Is there anything in particular you're looking for?"
Before Rosita could speak, Sofia cut in with a sly grin. "Well… she is looking for someone specific."
Rosita elbowed her lightly. "Shut up, Sofia." Then, to the employee, "No, thank you. Just browsing."
They wandered further in—until Rosita's gaze landed on a familiar figure across the room. Her steps froze.
There he was—Brandon, standing near the corner, laughing.
But he wasn't alone.
A gorgeous woman stood beside him. Elegant, confident. Her hand playfully ruffled his hair as they chuckled over something together.
Rosita's heart dropped like a stone.
Her breath caught. Something sharp twisted in her chest. A single tear rolled down her cheek. She touched it, confused.
"What… is this?" she thought. "Why am I crying? He doesn't matter. He shouldn't matter. How dare he—"
Her expression hardened.
"How dare he play me while he's got someone else. Does he think I'm that naive? That easy?"
Her fist clenched.
"Sofia. We're leaving," she said coldly.
"But Lady Rosita—"
"I said we're leaving, now." Her voice cracked like a whip.
Brandon turned, finally spotting her. His smile dropped instantly. "Rosita—?"
She was already heading for the door.
He caught up outside, grabbing her hand to stop her.
"Wait! What's wrong?"
She yanked her hand away with fire in her eyes. "Don't touch me!"
"Whoa—hey. I didn't know you were coming. You should've told me—"
"Why would I?" she snapped. "I'm just a
customer, right? Not like I'm anyone important to you."
He stared at her, stunned.
She glared at him, voice low and shaking with restrained emotion. "I trusted you. Even just a little. But clearly, I was wrong."
"Rosita, what's going on? Why are you acting like this? Just tell—"
Brandon's words were cut short as she threw his handkerchief back at him. It landed at his chest, sharp and final.
"Here," she said coldly. "I came to return this. I don't need it anymore... and I hope we never see each other again."
She turned to leave—
But Brandon quickly stepped in front of her, blocking her path.
"Don't do this," he said, voice calmer but firm. "Tell me what I did. Whatever it is—let me make it right."
Sofia, watching the tension unfold, leaned in and whispered nervously, "My lady, please... maybe you're being too hasty."
Rosita snapped, not even looking at her. "Sofia, stay out of this."
At that exact moment, the woman Rosita had seen earlier stepped out from the shop, calling out casually,
"Bro! You promised to help me pick an outfit for my birthday. Don't tell me you're backing out now!"
Rosita froze. "Bro?"
Brandon glanced back, smiling slightly. "Just give me a few more minutes. I'll be right in."
"Fine, but you've got ten minutes!" she huffed playfully before disappearing back inside.
Rosita looked at him, her voice more cautious now. "That woman... she's your sister?"
Brandon gave a small nod. "Not by blood. We grew up together in the same orphanage. She's not my actual sister, but I've always looked out for her like one. She's family."
Rosita's expression shifted from cold to… embarrassed. Her voice softened. "Oh… I see. I guess I might've… misunderstood the situation."
Brandon raised an eyebrow, teasing. "Misunderstood?"
She cleared her throat, flustered. "Yes, well... I owe you an apology for my rude behavior earlier. So allow me to make it up to you. Dinner. My treat."
Brandon smirked. "Dinner, huh? You sure? I mean you've been rude to me since day one—so technically, you owe me a lot of dinners and..."
Before he could finish, Rosita punched him lightly in the gut.
"OW—okay, okay, I get it!" he groaned, holding his stomach.
She huffed and turned with a dramatic flip of her hair. "Tch. I said one dinner. Don't push it."
But as she walked away, a small, genuine smile crept onto her face.
"That idiot..." she muttered under her breath, cheeks faintly flushed.
Brandon stood there, still half-doubled over, but smiling just the same.
"Looking forward to it, Rosita Ashford."