Chapter 2 The Embarrassment

The interior of Leo Hartford's car was cleaner than a luxury hotel suite-sleek black leather seats, touch screen panels, and the faint scent of expensive cologne lingering in the air. Cecilia sat stiffly in the passenger seat, clutching her purse like it might float away if she let go.

"Just a quick check-up," Leo said, not taking his eyes off the road. "Better safe than sorry."

"You don't have to do this," she said, voice low. "You've already done enough."

"I hit you with my car. That's not exactly a favor."

"I told you-it was my fault. I stepped into the street too soon."

Leo glanced at her. "And I was going a little too fast. So now we're both guilty. Congratulations."

Despite herself, a weak smile tugged at her lips. "You always this sarcastic?"

"Only when I'm running damage control."

He turned smoothly onto the freeway. For a few moments, neither of them spoke. Cecilia stared out the window, her elbow throbbing and her mind racing.

"I didn't even know you drove yourself," she muttered.

"Only when I need to get out of the office before I suffocate. I like the quiet."

Cecilia raised a brow. "Quiet? With paparazzi hiding in bushes?"

His lips twitched. "Touché."

---

The ER was quick. Mostly because Leo walked in and the entire hospital staff scrambled like ants at a picnic.

Within twenty minutes, Cecilia was examined, cleaned up, and handed an ice pack for her elbow. No broken bones. Just bruising.

"She's lucky," the doctor said, giving Leo a pointed look. "Could've been much worse."

Leo didn't respond. He was standing in the corner, arms crossed, face unreadable. But his eyes didn't leave Cecilia for a second.

As she was discharged, she thanked the nurse and walked out to the lobby, expecting to call a cab. Instead, Leo was already outside, leaning against his car.

"You didn't have to wait," she said.

"I know. But I did." He opened the passenger door.

Cecilia hesitated.

He glanced down at her shoes. "Where are your heels?"

She held them up in one hand. "Didn't exactly feel like putting them back on."

He gave a short nod. "Fair enough. Get in."

---

The drive to her neighborhood was quieter. The glamour of downtown Atlanta faded into cracked sidewalks and older apartment buildings with peeling paint. The contrast wasn't lost on Leo.

"You live around here?" he asked, eyes scanning the street.

"Yeah. Just off Briarwood."

He raised a brow. "That's not exactly the best part of town."

She snorted. "You think I don't know that?"

"Didn't mean it like that."

"It's affordable," she replied flatly. "That's all that matters right now."

Leo didn't push. But he didn't look away either.

He pulled up in front of a faded brick apartment complex with rusting stair rails and potted plants that had long since given up the will to live.

As soon as the car came to a stop, the building's front door flew open.

Cecilia's landlord, Mrs. Jenkins-a heavyset woman with curlers in her hair and a permanent scowl on her face-stormed toward them like a bull charging red.

"There you are!" she shouted. "Miss Brooks, you got money for rent or not? I told you already, no more late payments!"

Cecilia paled. "Mrs. Jenkins, I-"

But the woman wasn't listening.

"And now look at this!" she pointed at Leo's car like it was radioactive. "Riding around in a fancy car with a man like this, and you're telling me you can't afford your damn rent? You think I'm stupid?"

Leo blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, now you don't talk?" she sneered. "You're her sugar daddy or what? Got her living here with unpaid bills while she's riding around in a Benz?"

"Mrs. Jenkins, stop it!" Cecilia said, her voice trembling. "He's not-he's not anything to me."

"Could've fooled me," the landlord spat. "Girls like you always play broke until some rich man shows up."

Leo opened his door and stepped out slowly. He towered over Mrs. Jenkins by nearly a foot.

"Ma'am," he said calmly, but firmly, "I'm the one who brought Cecilia home because I accidentally hit her with my car earlier today. She was discharged from the hospital ten minutes ago."

Mrs. Jenkins hesitated, startled by his tone-and presence.

"And let me make something else clear," Leo continued, his voice steady. "How much does she owe you?"

Cecilia's eyes went wide. "Leo-no. Don't."

But he didn't look at her.

Mrs. Jenkins fumbled. "Uh... she's behind by $1,350."

Leo pulled out his phone, tapped a few buttons, then looked up. "You take online payments?"

"Yes," she said, dazed.

"You'll have it in the next five minutes." He turned to Cecilia. "Go upstairs and rest. You're in no shape to be harassed."

Her heart was pounding. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I don't like bullies," he said simply. "And because if you collapse from stress after I hit you, I'll never hear the end of it."

She swallowed, heat creeping up her neck. "You didn't have to-"

"I know," he interrupted. "But I did."

Then he turned, got back in his car, and drove off-leaving both women speechless on the sidewalk.

---

Upstairs, Cecilia sat on her worn-out couch, dazed.

What just happened?

Leo Hartford had hit her with his car, taken her to the hospital, brought her home, and paid her rent. All in one day.

And she still didn't know anything about him-except for what the media said.

Why would someone like him help someone like her?

She opened her phone, instinctively checking her bank app. It was still at $58.17. But the landlord payment was real. She got the email confirmation. Her rent was paid, and she wouldn't be evicted this month.

Her eyes filled with tears-not just from the relief, but from the humiliation.

The way Mrs. Jenkins spoke to her.

The way Leo had looked at her-like she deserved better.

But she didn't.

She was just a laid-off civil servant with no prospects, no backup plan, and no reason for a billionaire CEO to care what happened to her.

She curled up on the couch and let the tears fall silently, for everything she'd lost... and for the strange man who didn't owe her anything-but helped her anyway.