Chapter 4 SMALL ENCOUNTERS

The next morning started like any other for Elena - the same crowded bus, the same worn-out shoes, the same old thermos of coffee that was barely warm by the time she arrived.

But there was one thing that wasn't the same anymore.

Adrian Cole had noticed her.

It began with small, almost accidental meetings.

Once, she was wiping the glass door to the executive lounge when he stepped out of the elevator, his phone in hand.

"Good morning, Elena," he said casually, as if it was something he'd always done.

She blinked, startled. "Good morning, sir."

He smiled faintly. "You don't need to call me sir all the time."

She hesitated, torn between respect and politeness. "Then... Mr. Cole?"

"Adrian," he corrected, voice soft but firm.

She looked down quickly. "That doesn't seem right. You're my boss."

He chuckled. "Technically, the agency pays you. But if it makes you more comfortable, we'll stick with Mr. Cole."

The elevator dinged, and he left. But for the rest of the day, Elena found herself thinking about the way he'd said her name - calm, deliberate, like he wanted to remember it.

By the end of that week, Adrian had caught himself doing things he'd never done before.

He'd pause during his meetings, wondering if she was on the floor below.

He'd take the long route to his car just to pass by the cleaning staff area.

And sometimes, when no one was watching, he'd find himself smiling at the memory of her voice.

It frustrated him.

He wasn't a man easily distracted - not by women, not by emotions. But something about Elena was... grounding. She didn't pretend. She didn't want anything from him. She just was.

One afternoon, he found her sitting quietly in the lobby during her short break, eating lunch from a small plastic bowl.

"You don't go out during breaks?" he asked, walking over.

She jumped slightly, not expecting him. "Mr. Cole! I-uh-no, sir. It's too expensive around here."

He glanced at her food - plain rice and a few pieces of fried plantain. "You cooked that yourself?"

"Yes," she said, smiling softly. "My mother taught me. We don't waste food at home."

He nodded, lowering himself slightly to her eye level. "She sounds wise."

"She is," Elena said, her eyes brightening.

"Even when she's sick, she still says I should never complain - that dignity doesn't come from money, but from how you treat people."

Adrian looked at her for a long moment. "Your mother raised you well."

"Thank you."

He wanted to say more - to ask how her mother was doing, to maybe offer help - but he stopped himself. She didn't seem like someone who'd accept pity. She carried her pride like a quiet crown.

That night, Adrian sat in his penthouse suite overlooking the city. The skyline glittered below him, every light representing success, power, and control - everything he'd ever wanted.

But somehow, it all felt... quieter than usual.

He thought about Elena's smile, her soft laugh, the way she never tried to impress anyone. And for the first time in a long while, Adrian Cole - the man who owned everything - realized he might be missing something he couldn't buy.