Hernandez sat in his sleek office, the city skyline stretching endlessly behind him, but his mind wasn't on the view. It was on his empire — the company he had built from scratch, the deals he had brokered, the board meetings he had survived. Every choice, every sacrifice, every sleepless night had led him here. And the thought of losing even a fraction of it made his chest tighten. His company was his life. His legacy. His everything.
"I cannot fail. I will not fail," he muttered under his breath, voice steady but with a rare tension hidden beneath the calm. Failure was not an option. Not now. Not ever.
But the day's engagement loomed — a charity conference he would rather ignore, with thousands of eyes waiting for him, cameras flashing, speeches, applause. Public appearances were pointless distractions in a world that demanded perfection. He hated them. Every. Single. One.
"Amarto," he called sharply.
"Yes, sir," came the calm reply.
"Drive. Now."
The sleek black sedan waited like a predator, engine purring. Hernandez slid into the leather seat, adjusting his tie with precise movements, fingers tapping lightly against the armrest. Amarto maneuvered through the city streets with silent efficiency, avoiding traffic, getting him to the venue as quickly as possible.
Thousands of sighs, thousands of curious eyes, thousands of expectations — and Hernandez couldn't care less. He drummed his fingers against the leather, impatient. Speeches, applause, smiles… all meaningless.
He had no interest in being there. He had no desire to be praised for his wealth. He had no patience for charity that didn't move markets. He was ready to leave even before he arrived.
The venue came into view: a sprawling auditorium, banners promoting the charity event, a crowd buzzing with excitement. Hernandez's jaw tightened. He could already feel the suffocating weight of the audience, the speeches that would drone on endlessly, the clapping he would have to return.
As soon as the doors opened, he walked in, posture straight, gaze fixed on his phone. He scrolled absentmindedly through emails, messages, notifications — anything to distract himself from the noise around him. He didn't care about the speeches. He didn't care about the students. He didn't care about the cameras. He wanted to leave.
The anchor's voice suddenly cut through the chatter, crisp and cheerful:
"And now, we have a special moment — one of our scholarship recipients will come on stage to give her speech. Please welcome… Elvira!"
Hernandez barely looked up. Another name. Another speech. Another story of hardship he didn't want to hear. He started to rise, ready to leave, already picturing the car waiting to whisk him away.
But then he saw her.
Elvira.
She stood on the stage, small but radiant, shoulders back, eyes bright with determination. She looked ordinary — too ordinary to be remarkable. And yet… something about her froze him instantly. Her voice, when she began to speak, was soft but clear, carrying an innocence and strength that made every word sink deep into his chest. He couldn't move. He couldn't look away. He couldn't breathe.
"Elvira…" he whispered under his breath, the name strange and intoxicating on his tongue.
Her words, her presence, her very being — it struck him harder than any business deal, any strategy, any success he had ever known. The phones in his hand became useless, the noise of the crowd faded, and the world outside the auditorium ceased to exist. All that mattered was her — this girl, poor, unassuming, yet breathtaking in a way that pierced his carefully constructed world of control.
Hernandez had never felt like this. Not desire, not curiosity, not… love. And yet, in that moment, it consumed him.
He remained seated, frozen, unable to follow his own plan to leave. His mind, so often calculating, strategic, and cold, betrayed him. He had no control over the way his heart raced, the way his eyes traced her every movement, or the way her name repeated itself endlessly in his thoughts.
By the time she finished speaking, the applause around him seemed distant and meaningless. The world could collapse around him, and he wouldn't notice — not while Elvira existed in the room.
And in that instant, Hernandez knew something had changed.
Everything had changed.
He didn't just want to know her.
He needed to.
He would make sure she stepped into his wo
rld.
He would make sure she couldn't be forgotten.