The first time he met her felt like yesterday.
Flashback
---
Alder sat slouched in a chair at a high-end coffee shop, one leg crossed over the other, swirling the iced water in front of him.
At twenty-three, this wasn't where he wanted to be. He had no interest in corporate meetings or clients. This had been Lief's idea — his elder brother insisted he attend in person to close a deal.
"It's important you show your face sometimes, Alder. You are a Smith," Lief had said.
"I'm a Smith who just wants to live his life and spend his money," Alder had replied, annoyed.
But now, here he was.
Across from him sat Miss Bridgette — a woman in her forties, elegantly dressed, her diamond necklace glittering against her skin. But it wasn't her wealth that unsettled Alder. It was the way she was looking at him — eyes filled with an unmistakable hunger.
Predator, Alder thought grimly.
Bridgette is a woman in her 40s,still unmarried and was well known for chasing after young, handsome men — her reputation preceded her. And Alder knew the game well.
"Miss Bridgette, what do you think about this deal?" he asked, voice clipped, trying to mask his irritation. He wasn't here to be gawked at.
"Mr. Smith, this deal is good… but I'm not satisfied," Bridgette replied, her tone coy.
Alder's brow furrowed. "Why?"
"Because I will be at a loss if I sign this."
"In loss? How?"
Bridgette leaned forward slightly, her perfume wafting across the table. Her gaze locked onto his.
"If I accept this now, I won't see you anymore," she teased, voice dripping with flirtation.
Alder's jaw clenched. He was about to speak when he noticed movement to his left.
A petite waitress approached with a tray.
No makeup. Simple uniform. Yet… there was something about her which amused him.
Willow.
She carried herself with quiet grace, even as her eyes looked tired.
As she placed a cup in front of Alder, her hand slipped.
Splash!
Hot coffee poured onto Bridgette's hand which was on the table.
"I'm sor—"
Pah!
A sharp slap rang out. The sound seemed to freeze the entire room. Conversations halted. Heads turned.
Willow stood frozen, her cheek flaming red. Yet her face showed no tears. No weakness.
"Do you want to kill me?" Bridgette screeched, her voice shrill.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," Willow whispered, trembling but not touching her injured cheek.
"Is sorry enough to treat my hand if I have a burn?" Bridgette continued, voice rising.
Bridgette is known for been obsessed with her beauty
Alder's eyes narrowed. What has this girl gone through, to stand there so calmly?
Others could have started crying by now but she?
"I'm sorry," Willow repeated.
Bridgette raised her hand again. Before the strike landed, Alder's hand shot out.
"That's enough," he said firmly, gripping her wrist. "I'm sure she didn't do it on purpose."
The tension in the room became suffocating. Bridgette glared at him, then yanked her hand away.
The shop manager rushed over, bowing frantically.
"We're so sorry, ma'am. Please, forgive her."
"Sorry? I was almost burned alive by this witch, and you want me to just take sorry?" Bridgette snapped.
"She has always done good work. She just seemed tired today. Please, ma'am," the manager pleaded.
"I don't care about her family problems! I want her fired!"
Willow's voice wavered. "I'm really sorry, ma'am. Please… I really need this job."
Alder's patience wore thin. His voice grew sharp.
"That's enough. They've already apologized."
Bridgette hesitated. The deal mattered — more to her than to the Smiths. Offending Alder now would be unwise.
"Since Mr. Smith doesn't want me to pursue this… I will give you face, then. She's forgiven." She said with a forced smile
"Thank you, ma'am," Willow and the manager said simultaneously, bowing deeply.
Alder watched Willow retreat, Her back was straight, movements controlled — but there was a faint tremble in her fingers.
The manager kept saying something he couldn't hear to Willow while she kept bowing like apologizing,he's probably scolding her
"Even after being slapped and humiliated… no tears. No fear. What has she endured?" Alder thought.
---
The meeting concluded. Bridgette signed the deal, still sulking. Alder couldn't care less.
He stepped outside, relishing the cool air. As he reached for his car door, a voice called softly:
"Please wait!"
He turned.
Willow hurried toward him, clutching something.
"Hope no problem, Miss?" Alder asked with a rare smile.
"Thanks… for earlier," she said, eyes lowered. She handed him a small cake, neatly wrapped. "This is a little token of appreciation."
Alder took it, surprised. He didn't like sweets. But… for her he's willing.
"Willing already? Tch." He chuckled to himself.
"You don't need to do this. But thank you," he said. Before he could continue, Willow gave a polite nod and hurried back inside.
Alder watched her disappear into the shop with a smile.
She is surely interesting. He thought
---
A few days later…
Alder found himself at a club with some acquaintances — not close friends. Just drinking buddies.
He sat sipping vodka when movement caught his eye.
There.
Willow — in a simple outfit, carrying a tray of drinks. Clearly working, not here to party.
"Is she following me? Or am I?" Alder thought with amusement.
"Bro, why are you smiling?" one friend asked.
"Nothing," Alder replied, still with a smile.
"Look at that lady," another said, pointing at Willow. "Damn, she's well-made."
Alder remained silent.
Willow approached their table with practiced ease, with a tray of whiskey. Her eyes didn't meet Alder's.
Not that she's has forgotten him,she just felt she has shown her appreciation enough.
"How are you, Miss?" one friend asked.
"I'm fine," Willow replied, her smile brittle.
"If you keep acting this way, you won't have many customers," another said.
"I'm sorry, sir," Willow replied coolly, then turned to leave.
"She's rude," one friend muttered.
"She has her principles. She doesn't owe you anything,other than bring you a drink,which she has done" another replied pointing at the whiskey Willow brought.
Alder's gaze lingered on her. "Doesn't she remember me? Or is she choosing to ignore me?"
"Alder," a friend said. "Do you like her?"
Alder smiled faintly but gave no reply.
"You're so annoying," the friend said.
Alder ignored them. These men meant little to him. His true friend, Reed Cloud, was abroad.
But something about Willow intrigued him.
---
Five months passed in a blink.
One afternoon, Alder's phone buzzed. It was Sage's school — his younger sister had gotten into a fight.
His mother Juniper and brother Lief were away. Responsibility now fell to him.
"I will be there soon," Alder said curtly.
He drove to the University of Art — an elite private school for design, known for producing the best students in the country.
Alder entered the principal's office.
"Mr. Smith, please sit," a head teacher greeted, eager to appease him. After all, the Smiths were among the school's shareholders.
Alder sat, eyes cold. He wasn't interested in hospitality.
"Where are they?" he asked sharply. "I want to see the one who hurt my sister."
"They will be here soon," the principal replied nervously.
Alder's fingers tapped against the armrest, restrained anger simmering beneath his calm exterior. No one touched his family.
Moments later, the door opened.
Sage entered, face bruised, eyes downcast.
Behind her…
Alder's breath caught.
A petite figure followed.
Willow.