Chapter 4

"You're pathetic, you know that?" Chad sneered, his face close to Elias's. "Chasing after a woman who can't stand the sight of you. Jordan told us how you tried to attack him."

"You're a disgrace," Bryce added, shoving Elias again, harder this time. "You think you can just force your way into our world? You need to learn your place."

They were going to do this right here, in the middle of a crowded luxury store. They were rich and arrogant enough to believe there would be no consequences.

They closed in on him. Elias raised his hands, trying to defend himself, but it was four against one. A fist flew, catching him on the jaw. Another slammed into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

He was a mechanic, strong from years of physical labor, but he was no fighter. His resistance only seemed to enrage them more. They pushed him backward, laughing as he stumbled.

He crashed into a tall display case. There was a sickening crunch of glass and metal. A collection of delicate, diamond-encrusted watches cascaded to the marble floor, shattering on impact.

The store fell silent. Everyone stared.

Chad, Bryce, and their friends stopped, their eyes wide. Then, they started laughing.

"Oh, you are so screwed now," Chad said, pointing at the wreckage. "Looks like you're going to have to pay for that, buddy."

They backed away, melting into the crowd.

"He did it! That man just destroyed the display!" Bryce shouted to the store manager, who was rushing over.

Then they were gone, leaving Elias alone in the middle of the disaster they had created.

The store manager, a severe-looking woman with a pinched face, grabbed his arm.

"You will pay for this!" she shrieked. "Every last cent!"

"It wasn't me," Elias tried to explain. "I was attacked. They pushed me."

"I don't care!" the manager spat, her grip tightening. "I saw you. You are responsible. That display is worth over a million dollars. Do you have a million dollars?" She looked him up and down with contempt. "I doubt it. You probably don't have a penny to your name. I'm calling the police."

She started to reach for her phone, her other hand still clamped on his arm like a vice. She looked like she wanted to search his pockets herself.

"That won't be necessary."

A calm, cool voice cut through the chaos.

The crowd parted. Isadora Navarro stood there, looking at the scene with an expression of deep annoyance. She had been shopping in a private room in the back.

She walked over, her expensive heels clicking on the marble floor. She didn't look at Elias. She addressed the manager.

"Put the damages on my account."

The manager's jaw dropped. "Ms. Navarro, but-"

"I will cover it," Isadora said, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Elias froze. He was standing there, bruised and humiliated, and she had seen it all. A part of him, a stupid, hopeful part, thought she might finally see the truth.

He opened his mouth to thank her, to explain, but she spoke first, her eyes finally landing on him. They were as cold as ice.

"This does not mean I forgive you," she said. "Consider this a payment to keep you quiet. But it comes with a condition."

She paused, letting the silence hang in the air.

"You will go to Jordan, on your knees, and you will apologize for attacking him. You will beg for his forgiveness."

Elias stared at her, his blood running cold. Apologize? To the man who had orchestrated all of this?

"No," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "I will not."

He saw a flicker of surprise in her eyes. She was used to people obeying her.

"I didn't attack him," Elias continued, drawing a line in the sand. "And I don't owe you, or him, anything. We are done, Isadora. I will handle this myself."

Her expression hardened. That flicker of surprise was replaced by a familiar look of contempt. For a moment, he thought she saw him, really saw the man standing before her, not the monster Jordan had painted. But then the moment passed.

"Fine," she said, her voice clipped. "Do what you want."

She turned and walked away, leaving him to face the consequences alone.

Elias dealt with the store. He gave them Blake Ward's contact information, knowing her legal team would handle it. He walked out of the store into the gray afternoon. It had started to rain, a cold, miserable drizzle.

He stood on the curb, without an umbrella, trying to hail a cab. Cars splashed water on him as they passed.

A sleek, black limousine pulled up beside him. The same one that had brought him here. But it wasn't his driver. Isadora' s chauffeur got out and opened the rear door for her.

She got in, settling into the plush leather seat. The car started to pull away. She passed right by him, not even a glance in his direction, a queen in her carriage leaving a peasant to rot in the rain.

He started walking, the cold rain soaking through his jacket, chilling him to the bone. He didn't know where he was going. He just walked.

He was a block away when he slipped on the wet pavement. He went down hard, his head hitting the concrete. Pain flared through his skull, and his vision swam. He heard the screech of tires and saw headlights bearing down on him.

The world went white.

He didn't get hit. The car had stopped just inches from him. He lay there, dazed, the rain washing over his face.

He heard a car door open and close nearby. Isadora' s limousine. It hadn't gone far.

He heard her driver's voice, muffled by the rain. "Ms. Navarro, should we check on him?"

There was a pause. He imagined her in the warm, dry car, looking out at him, a piece of trash on the street. He imagined the struggle in her mind. The logical, cold person she was now telling her to drive on, and some small, buried piece of the old Issy telling her to stop.

He heard her voice, sharp and annoyed. "Fine."

Footsteps approached. A hand, strong and familiar, grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet. An umbrella appeared over his head.

He looked up into Isadora' s face. She looked furious, as if helping him was the most inconvenient thing that had ever happened to her.

"Get in the car," she commanded.

"No," Elias said, pulling his arm free. "I don't want your help."

He would rather stand in the freezing rain and drown than accept another ounce of her pity, another drop of her charity.

"Don't be a fool, Elias," she snapped. "You're bleeding."

She reached for him again, but he stepped back, out from under the umbrella and into the downpour.

"I said no."

Her face tightened with frustration. For a moment, she looked like she was going to leave him there. But then, with a growl of exasperation, she lunged forward, grabbed him by the front of his wet jacket, and dragged him towards the open car door.

"You're getting in this car," she said, her voice low and menacing, "whether you like it or not."

She shoved him into the back seat and slammed the door behind him.