"You should adapt to change because the only thing permanent in this world is change."
That's what my mother used to say.Back when I still had a mother.Back when everything I thought was permanent—family, comfort, security—still existed.
Now, I say it to myself like a mantra.Change. Adapt. Survive.
The sun was already harsh when I crossed the university courtyard, my tote bag heavy with borrowed books and notes for tutoring. I didn't mind the weight anymore. I'd gotten used to carrying things that felt too heavy—grief, responsibility, expectations.
It had been two years since the accident. Two years since the phone call that shattered everything.They said it was quick.As if quick could make it any less cruel.
I'd gone from being the girl with weekend family lunches and a small, steady allowance to the orphan who survived on scholarship stipends and part-time jobs.
Some people avoided me after that—like tragedy was contagious.Others pitied me.I hated both.
So, I learned to work harder. To fill every hour with something that would push me forward. Because slowing down meant thinking. And thinking… hurt.
I reached the library desk, tying my hair up before settling into the seat behind the counter. My fingers traced the edge of my planner—neatly filled with schedules, tasks, and reminders. I'd made a rule for myself: as long as I had structure, I'd be fine.
The quiet hum of the library was comforting. Predictable. Safe.Until he walked in.
Lucien Beaumont.Again.
For someone I'd met only once, his name had a way of living in my head. Maybe it was because everyone here knew him—the golden boy of the business department, son of the Beaumont Group chairman, the kind of man people orbit around without realizing it.
He didn't even have to try. His presence alone demanded attention.
"Reyes," he said casually, leaning against the counter. "We meet again."
I looked up from my book list, pretending not to care. "Beaumont. Do you need something?"
His lips curved, faintly amused. "Do you always sound that polite when you're clearly annoyed?"
I shot him a flat look. "I'm working."
He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Right. Just returning this." He placed a book on the counter—Principles of Corporate Finance. Typical.
As I took it from him, I noticed he'd actually read through most of it. The corners were creased, a few lines underlined. So maybe the perfect heir did study after all.
"You work harder than anyone I've met," he said suddenly, voice softer than before. "Why?"
I froze.
For a second, I didn't answer. I couldn't.
Why?Because hard work was the only thing standing between me and falling apart.Because people like him would never understand what it's like to lose everything overnight.Because money can buy comfort, but when it's gone, you have to learn how to breathe without it.
I lowered my gaze, pretending to adjust the stack of books beside me.
You wouldn't understand, I thought. Rich people like you never have to.
"Anna?" His voice cut through my thoughts. "Hey. Anna."
I blinked and forced a small smile. "Because I need to. I have to."
He studied me for a moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.Then, surprisingly, he nodded. "Fair enough."
He turned to leave, but not before glancing back once more. "You know, that's not a bad answer."
When he walked away, I let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
He was confusing. Too composed, too curious, too… human. It would've been easier if he were just another spoiled heir. But no—Lucien Beaumont was the kind of danger that came disguised as interest.
And the worst part?I didn't want to be noticed by him. Not when I was finally getting my life under control.
The rest of my shift passed in a blur.Between shelving books and checking returns, my mind kept wandering—to the way he'd said my name, to the quiet sincerity in his tone.No one had asked me why in a long time. Most people just assumed they already knew.
When the clock finally struck six, I packed up and stepped outside. The sky was painted in gold and violet, and for a moment, I let myself breathe.
Change, I told myself again. Adapt. Survive.
I was doing fine.I didn't need anyone—especially not someone like him—to complicate that.
But deep down, I knew this wasn't the end of it.Because when Lucien Beaumont looked at me today, it wasn't like I was invisible.
And that terrified me more than anything.