SHE IS MINE, BROTHER

The blare of Andrea's alarm cut through the peacefulness at 4:30 AM. It was a familiar, unwelcome sound that pulled her from sleep. She reached out, fumbling for the phone on her small bedside table, and silenced the insistent buzzing.

Her room was tiny, barely fitting her twin bed and a dresser that held most of her life. She pushed herself up. She pulled on the pale yellow uniform of the Sunny Side Up Diner, tying her thick brown hair into a tight ponytail. Her reflection in the dusty mirror showed tired, pretty small eyes, but also a fierce determination.

By 5:00 AM, the smell of brewing coffee and sizzling bacon filled Andrea's nostrils as she stepped into the diner. She moved with speed, pouring coffee refills, wiping down counters, and taking breakfast orders from the early risers. Her feet throbbed by 10:00 AM, when her shift ended. There was no time for rest. She grabbed her worn backpack and hurried out, already thinking about her next stop.

The Book Nook, a cozy, quiet bookstore, was her second job. The air here smelled of old paper and new ink, a comforting scent after the greasy diner. Andrea spent her hours restocking shelves, and helping customers find their next great read.

Sometimes, if the store was quiet, she would steal a few moments to flip through the pages of a new novel, losing herself briefly in another world. But even in this peaceful setting, she felt the clock ticking. Her shift ended at 3:00 PM.

Her third job started an hour later. This was the hardest one: cleaning offices in a large downtown building. Andrea pushed heavy carts loaded with supplies, vacuumed carpet, and scrubbed sinks until they gleamed. Every muscle in her body screamed by the time she finished at 9:00 PM. Each day was a relentless cycle, a marathon she ran just to keep going.

Andrea endured this punishing schedule for one main goal: college. She had a scholarship, but she still needed money for living expenses, books, and other fees. She dreamed of walking across a sprawling campus, textbooks under her arm, building a life different from the constant struggle she knew. Every dollar she earned, every ounce of her energy, was poured into that dream. Her unwavering dedication kept her pushing forward.

When she finally got home, usually after 9:30 PM, the small apartment was never truly empty. Abuela, her maternal grandmother, would be there, sitting in her worn armchair, often knitting or watching an old Spanish movie.

Abuela was Andrea's entire family, her anchor in the world. Andrea had lost her mother before she was even a year old, leaving Abuela to raise her. Abuela had filled her life with love, teaching her strength, kindness, and the importance of hard work. Andrea never knew her father, only stories Abuela sometimes told about him being American.

Mi vida," Abuela would often say, her voice soft and worried, "you work too much. Even a little bird needs to rest its wings."

Andrea would just offer a tired smile. "I have to, Abuela. For college. For us."

Abuela would nod, a hint of sadness in her wise eyes, but never a complaint. She knew Andrea's dreams were big, and her heart was even bigger. Andrea's life was simple, modest, but filled with the profound love of her grandmother.

***************************************************************

Then came the new job offer, a bar shift. Maria, a coworker from the diner, had told her about The Neon Ember.

"They pay really well," Maria had whispered, "especially the night shifts." Andrea had been hesitant.

A bar felt so far from her quiet life, from Abuela's values. But the promise of good money, money that could bring college closer, had made her say yes.

Her first night at The Neon Ember began like any other shift, but it quickly became clear this was a different world. The music pounded, a relentless beat that vibrated through the floor.

The air was thick with the smell of alcohol, stale cigarettes, and something sweet that lingered. Andrea felt out of place, her movements stiff, her smile forced.

She was assigned to the night shift, a role that put her in direct contact with a specific type of clients. And among them, a regular stood out. Xavier Dubrow.

He was always there, almost every night. Tall and impeccably dressed, his broad shoulders and slim body were a magnet for female attention. But his presence wasn't about attraction for Andrea.

He had a powerful, cold aura that made people around him nervous. He was the first son of the wealthy Dubrow family, the Chief Operating Officer of Dubrow Co., a man feared by many who worked under him due to his ruthless personality.

Andrea found him irritating. He was arrogant and proud, believing his wealth could buy anything or anyone. She watched in confusion as other girls seemed to fall "head over heels" for him, despite his constant harshness and hostility towards everyone. She simply wished he would stop coming to the bar.

She made it a point to avoid his table. When he walked in, she would suddenly find a distant part of the bar that needed cleaning, or another customer who desperately needed a refill. She would hide behind the ice machine or duck into the back room, hoping another bartender would take his order. She just didn't want to deal with his cold stare, his demanding tone. Every time he entered, a knot of dread formed in her stomach.

From his usual booth in the back, Xavier watched her. He noticed her efforts to avoid him. He saw the way she would suddenly become busy whenever he approached her section, how her pretty small eyes would quickly dart away from his. She was different from the other women who flocked around him, drawn by his wealth and looks. She didn't seem impressed by how handsome he was, nor did she seem scared of him in the way others were.

This avoidance, her disinterest, only sparked his unusual interest. He was accustomed to women seeking his attention. Andrea's clear aversion was a new challenge.

She was always there, trying to escape his notice, and that made him watch her even more closely. He started to come to the bar every night as part of his routine, not just for a drink, but to observe her. He didn't understand it, but he found himself wanting her to himself.