Although Roman was now the chairman, he didn’t even have an office of his own.As he turned to leave, he brushed past Lena and whispered, “Darling, I need your help. I don’t have an office yet, what should I do?”He spoke softly enough that only she could hear him. But that one word darling echoed through her mind, making her cheeks flush pink.Lena had already heard how his colleagues had mocked and insulted him earlier. They might not have their marriage certificate yet, but in her heart, he was already her husband. And it was only natural for her to stand up for him.Without a moment’s hesitation, she pointed to her own office. “Use mine for now. I’ll make some space for you.”Roman shook his head firmly. “No, that’s not right. We agreed you’re still the company’s main decision-maker. I can’t take your office. I think Mr. Carlos’ office will do just fine.”Lena caught the quick exchange of glances between Mira and Mario when they’d heard Roman was chairman earlier. That reaction to

“All the fuss over an agreement with Westwegia Corporation? Get a hold of yourselves!” he scoffed. Silence followed. They never expected this cowardly man to fight back! “So rude!” Jenny hissed.“What did you say? How dare a loser like you speak to us in that way when you can barely feed yourself?” Leo tossed his fork too aside furiously. He frowned and rolled his eyes at him. “He’s just a low man. I can sweat he doesn’t even know what Westwegia is. That’s why he has the audacity.” “Hey, loser. Listen here. Westwegia Corporation has a market value worth over eight hundred billion dollars. The number 1 in the city. Any family on good terms with it automatically climbs up the hierarchy.” He started to mock Roman pretending to be schooling him. “Every elite family in Westwegia here bows before that Corporation because it leads the city’s business industry!” “There’s no use explaining that to him. Look at the clothes he’s wearing.” Adrian cut in. “What does a beggar have to do with

Roman’s POVMy name’s Roman, and if inheritance life was easy, I’d be sipping wine by the pool in one of my father’s estates, not dodging potholes on a beat-up delivery scooter. But life isn’t fair—not when your father’s dying wish is for you to find someone to love within a week, or get shackled in an arranged marriage with some rich heiress you’ve never met.I don’t believe in love at first sight. I don’t believe in much, really. But I believe in choice. In feelings. And I wasn’t about to let my future be decided by some hospital report ultimatum. So I did the unthinkable—I disappeared.Not entirely, of course. I still had my phone, still had my card, but I left behind the bodyguards, the suits, the exclusive penthouses. I even changed my name to "R. Walt" for this little adventure. A name no one would recognize. I shaved off the slight stubble that made me look older and wore a cap low over my eyes. Got a job at a pizza place downtown—one of those busy little joints where the manag

Roman’s POVIt was pouring. The kind of rain that made the streets look like rivers and the sky feel like it would never stop crying.I stood at the gate, soaked to the bone, holding a pizza box that sagged at the edges, soggy from the downpour. My hoodie clung to my skin, heavy and cold, and my jeans stuck to my legs like wet paper. Even my socks were soaked. I couldn’t feel my toes anymore.The guards at the gate didn’t let me in.“She said you should wait right there,” one of them said with a smirk. “She’ll come down when she feels like it.”So I waited.I didn’t argue. I didn’t beg. I just stood there like some lost dog hoping someone might throw it a bone. The rain didn’t stop. It felt like it never would. Drops slid down my face, mixed with the sting of cold air. I held the pizza close to my chest, trying to protect it, but the cardboard was too weak now. Just like me.An hour passed.Then I saw her.Mira.The owner of Mira Jewels. The same woman I’d seen on magazine covers and

Roman’s POVIt was just another Wednesday in the city—loud, fast, and rude. The kind of day you wished you could sleep through. But not me. I was wide awake, on my scooter, zipping through traffic with a bag of burger and chicken in the backseat. Another order. Another delivery. Another run to Mira Jewels international holdings.I should've said no. Should've told Tony I was busy, or sick, or dying. But I didn’t. Maybe I was still hoping she’d say something different today. Maybe I was an idiot. Especially after being brutally insulted yesterday just because of being poor.The city streets were crowded as always. Honking cars, swearing drivers, people pushing through like ants chasing crumbs. I waited at the stoplight, just a few blocks from her company building, when I saw something that made me slow down.An old woman—skin wrinkled with time, wearing a faded blue wrapper and slippers that had seen better years—was standing by the roadside. She looked scared. Her lips moved like she