Irina’s POV

The silver letters loomed over me.

*Obsidian Holdings.*

I took a deep, shaky breath. The crisp, biting autumn air filled my lungs. I looked down at Luka. He was fast asleep in his baby carrier, his warm little cheek pressed securely against my collarbone.

I had to be brave. I had to do this for him. I needed a better job. I needed to build a real future.

"You ready?" Asher asked.

He was standing right beside me. His hands were shoved casually into the pockets of his dark jacket. He looked completely at ease, entirely unfazed by the terrifying, towering architecture of the skyscraper in front of us. His golden eyes were warm and encouraging.

I swallowed the heavy, dry lump in my throat.

"Yes," I whispered.

I followed him.

The heavy revolving glass doors spun smoothly. We stepped out of the biting wind and directly into the lobby.

A massive wave of warm, perfectly conditioned air washed over me. It smelled like expensive espresso, sharp citrus cologne, and polished stone.

The lobby was a cathedral of human wealth.

It was enormous. The ceilings stretched impossibly high above us, lined with sleek, modern light fixtures that bathed the room in a crisp, bright glow. The floors were made of spotless, blindingly white marble. Everything was pristine. Everything was silent, save for the rhythmic, aggressive clicking of expensive leather shoes against the stone.

My heart immediately started to race.

I looked around. The lobby was swarming with people, but they weren’t like the carefree, messy college students I had slowly gotten used to seeing on campus.

These people were completely different.

They moved with a frantic, aggressive purpose. Men in dark, perfectly tailored suits rushed past us, barking commands into sleek Bluetooth earpieces. Women in flawless pencil skirts and towering high heels marched toward the elevators, clutching leather briefcases and gleaming tablets. Every single person looked sharp. Powerful. Important.

They looked like they owned the world.

I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe.

I looked down at myself.

I was wearing a faded, oversized sweater. My jeans were frayed at the hems. My cheap canvas backpack was slung over one shoulder, the zipper still slightly broken from when it was kicked on the campus quad. And strapped to my chest was a sleeping infant.

The contrast was violently sharp.

It was a physical blow to my chest.

I didn’t belong here. I was an absolute imposter.

I could feel their eyes on me. I didn’t even need to look up to know they were staring. Who brings a baby into a billion-dollar corporate headquarters? Who walks into a palace of glass and steel wearing scuffed, dirty sneakers?

I was a joke.

The old, deeply ingrained trauma flared up instantly. The omega conditioning. The brutal lessons I had learned from a year of surviving at the absolute bottom of the food chain. When you are in a room full of powerful people, you make yourself invisible. You do not take up space. You do not make a sound.

My breathing grew shallow and rapid. My vision started to blur at the edges.

I clenched my fists. I squeezed my fingers together so hard that my fingernails dug painfully into my own palms.

I immediately dropped my chin. I hunched my shoulders forward, instinctively curving my body inward to shield Luka and make myself as small as physically possible. I stared at the pristine white marble floor, watching the shiny black dress shoes walk past my dirty sneakers.

I couldn’t do this.

It was a mistake. A massive, humiliating mistake. I was just a runaway. I was a broken, terrified girl playing pretend. I couldn’t walk up to a polished desk and ask for a job in a place like this. They would laugh me out of the building.

Panic seized my lungs. The walls of the massive lobby suddenly felt like they were closing in on me.

I stopped walking.

I planted my feet on the marble floor. My entire body was trembling.

I turned around, desperately looking back toward the revolving glass doors. The exit. Freedom. I just needed to get back out onto the street. I needed to disappear back into the crowd.

I took a fast step toward the exit.

But suddenly, a large, warm hand wrapped around my forearm.

I flinched violently.

"Hey," Asher said softly.

He stepped right into my line of sight, blocking my path to the door. He didn’t let go of my arm, but his grip was gentle. Grounding.

"Come on," Asher said, tilting his head toward the expansive reception area. "Let’s go. I’ll take you straight over to the hiring manager."

I shook my head frantically. My blonde hair fell across my face, hiding my tear-filled eyes.

"No," I whispered, my voice cracking. "No, I can’t. Please, Asher."

"Irina, what’s wrong?" His brow furrowed in genuine confusion. He stepped closer, lowering his voice so the rushing executives wouldn’t hear us. "We’re right here. You just have to fill out an application."

"I can’t do it!" I hissed, pulling my arm back slightly. "Look at me!"

Asher didn’t let go. He just looked at me, his golden eyes scanning my panicked, flushed face.

"Look at them," I choked out, gesturing weakly toward a group of men in sharp, thousand-dollar suits. "And then look at me. Look at my clothes. Look at my bag. I have a baby strapped to my chest, Asher. I don’t belong in a place like this."

"That doesn’t matter," he argued gently.

"It does matter!" I whispered desperately, hot tears threatening to spill over my lower lashes. The shame was suffocating. "I look completely ridiculous. I look so weird. They’re going to take one look at me and laugh. They’re going to kick me out."

I tugged my arm again, begging him to let me run.

"Let’s just go. Please. Maybe... maybe we can come back another day. When I have better clothes. When I can find a babysitter."

It was a lie. I knew it was a lie. If I walked out those glass doors today, I would never, ever have the courage to walk back in.

Asher knew it too.

He didn’t let me go. He tightened his grip on my arm, just enough to keep me anchored to the marble floor.

He offered me a bright, unwavering smile.

"You aren’t weird, Irina," Asher said firmly. His voice cut through the buzzing panic in my head. It was steady. It was absolute. "You look perfectly fine. You look like a mother who is working hard to provide for her kid."

I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut. "They won’t see it that way."

"Who cares how they see it?" Asher countered, leaning in slightly. "You aren’t applying to be the CEO. You’re applying for the support staff. You are exactly what they are looking for."

"I’m terrified," I admitted, my voice breaking into a quiet sob.

"I know you are," he said softly, his golden eyes shining with a deep, fierce kindness. "But you can do this. You are so much stronger than you think you are. You survived so much. This is just a building."

He gently tugged my arm, pulling me back toward the center of the lobby.

"Come on," Asher urged, his smile widening. "Just one interview. If you hate it, we leave. I promise. But you have to try. You can absolutely do this."

A sharp, deep voice sliced through the air like a heavy blade.

"What are you doing?"