Nathan pulled the car to a stop in front of Kyra's house but didn't immediately kill the engine.
"If you need any help," he said, turning to her, "with job hunting, or anything at all, please call me." He handed her a business card.
Kyra took it, a flicker of genuine warmth touching her. "Thank you, Nathan. Tonight was... nice."
"It was," he agreed, smiling. He waited until she was safely inside the house before driving away.
From down the street, in the dark cabin of the Bentley, Julius watched the Volvo disappear. The look on his face was so thunderous that Leo didn't dare breathe.
Inside, Kyra found her father and stepmother waiting in the living room, their faces expectant and judgmental.
"Well?" Dale demanded.
"We had a nice time," Kyra said calmly. "We've agreed to stay in touch as friends." It was enough to satisfy them for now.
The next morning, as Kyra was about to leave to look for work, a black Cadillac Escalade pulled up and blocked the driveway.
A man in a black suit got out. Kyra recognized him instantly. Caleb Price, Julius's most loyal attack dog. He and Julius had been friends since their days at Yale.
Caleb leaned against the car, a smirk playing on his lips. "Long time no see, Kyra. Looks like the loony bin made you... calmer." Caleb had never liked her, always seeing her as a distraction for his friend.
Kyra ignored him and tried to walk past.
He blocked her path. "Jules sent me. He said your junk is still in the storage room of his penthouse. He's giving you twenty-four hours to get it, or it's all going in a dumpster."
Kyra's voice was ice. "Then throw it out." She would rather die than set foot in that apartment again.
Caleb's smirk vanished, replaced by irritation. "Don't be an idiot! This is him giving you a chance to come back!"
A bitter laugh escaped Kyra's lips. "Come back? To what? To be his bird in a cage? Tell him I don't need it."
She pushed past him. Caleb stared at her retreating back, cursing under his breath before getting in the car to report his failure to Julius.
Undeterred, Kyra took the bus downtown. She needed a job. Any job that would give her the money to escape.
She tried a few casting agencies she'd worked with in the past. The moment they saw her, their faces froze. Excuses were made. Doors were politely but firmly closed. The industry had blacklisted her completely.
Exhausted and defeated, she sat on a park bench, the afternoon sun feeling mocking and cruel.
Her phone buzzed. It was a text from Nathan, asking how her day was going.
She hesitated, then typed back, admitting her struggle to find work.
He replied almost immediately with a job link. The Grand Arcadia, a new luxury hotel downtown, was hiring a hostess for their evening restaurant service. The requirements were a polished appearance and good manners.
This kind of job won't care about your old acting 'scandals,' he wrote. Give it a try.
A spark of hope ignited in her chest. She smoothed her clothes, fixed her hair, and went straight to the hotel.
With the poise and elegance drilled into her by years in Hollywood, she aced the interview. The shift lead, a man named Frank, hired her on the spot.
For the first time in three years, she had earned something for herself. A wave of relief washed over her. She immediately texted Nathan to thank him.
That evening, Kyra stood in the magnificent lobby of The Grand Arcadia, dressed in the hotel's elegant uniform. The work was simple: smile, greet the guests, lead them to their tables.
It was going smoothly.
Until a group of men walked through the main entrance.
Leading them was Julius Carlisle. Beside him were Caleb and several other powerful-looking men, including the famous director, Donal Fry.
Kyra's heart plummeted. She instinctively tried to shrink behind the hostess stand, but it was too late.
Caleb saw her first. A look of pure shock, followed by malicious glee, crossed his face. He leaned over and whispered something in Julius's ear.
Julius stopped. His gaze swept across the lobby, a physical force that landed on her, standing there in her uniform, a name tag pinned to her chest.
His face was a blank mask, but Kyra saw the inferno raging in his ice-blue eyes. It was pure, unadulterated fury.
