The evening air in the Sinclair household was as heavy as always, thick with the tension of unspoken words and lingering resentment.
Ava Sinclair stood by the window, watching the last shades of sunset bleed into the horizon. The sky was breathtaking — streaks of orange and soft violet melting into the approaching night — but even beauty felt wasted in a home like hers.
Behind her, the television blared the score of a football match Bryan didn't care about. He wasn't watching. As usual, he sat with a beer bottle in one hand and his phone in the other, thumb scrolling endlessly through videos that made him laugh in ways he hadn't at Ava in years. The faint hum of the TV was the only thing that filled the silence between them.
Ava turned from the window. "I left your dinner on the table," she said quietly.
Bryan grunted without looking up. "Not hungry."
It was always like this. A pattern so familiar it had become numbing. Ava would cook, he would ignore it. She'd clean, he'd make a mess. She'd speak, he'd pretend she didn't exist. The marriage, if it could still be called one, had long since decayed into something cold and transactional. She paid the bills while he spent his days doing who knew what. And nights? The nights were lonelier than she ever thought possible for a woman who wasn't technically alone.
Ava sighed and picked up her purse. She still had a night shift at The Sterling Crown Hotel, the one part of her life that felt bearable. There, at least, people saw her — guests smiled, coworkers joked, and for a few hours, she wasn't just Bryan's invisible wife.
"I'm heading to work," she said.
"Yeah, yeah," Bryan mumbled without lifting his head.
The drive to the hotel was short, but Ava welcomed the distance it gave her. She loved how the towering building appeared in the city skyline — modern, sleek, and alive with light. A world so far removed from her own. Parking her car, she glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror. Not bad for a woman married to a ghost. Her dark hair was neatly tied back, minimal makeup done right. She adjusted her uniform, took a deep breath, and stepped into the lobby.
The Sterling Crown was always busy at night, and tonight was no different. Soft jazz played from the grand piano in the corner, expensive heels clicked against marble floors, and the scent of fresh flowers lingered in the air. Ava walked to the staff entrance, greeting her coworker Lacey, who arched an eyebrow.
"You look like someone ran over your cat," Lacey teased, handing her a clipboard. "Rough night?"
Ava forced a smile. "You could say that."
"Well, cheer up. Rumor has it we've got someone… big staying tonight."
Ava frowned. "Big?"
Lacey grinned, leaning closer. "Damian Cross."
The name sent a ripple through Ava's chest. Damian Cross — the billionaire CEO known for his cold, intimidating demeanor and staggering fortune. Rumors about him floated around constantly. Some claimed he destroyed anyone who crossed him, others said no woman ever lasted long in his life. And no one really knew what he looked like up close — only that his mere presence could hush a room.
"Why would someone like him stay here?" Ava asked, not entirely sure why her heart was racing.
"Who knows? Privacy, maybe. But keep your distance if you value your job. Word is he doesn't tolerate mistakes."
Ava nodded, making a mental note to stay far away from the penthouse floor.
The night passed in a blur of routine. Check-ins, room service calls, a few guests complaining about trivial things. Ava was delivering fresh towels to a suite when the hotel manager, a stout man named Mr. Carter, approached her with a clipboard in hand.
"Sinclair, when you're done, come to the front desk."
"Yes, sir."
She finished her task, wondering if she'd made a mistake. A wrong booking? Forgotten request? But when she arrived, Carter's face was unreadable.
"Mr. Cross's assistant just called," he said, lowering his voice. "He requested you."
Ava blinked. "Me?"
"Yes. By name. To oversee the setup in his suite. He asked for you personally."
Her stomach flipped. "I… I've never even spoken to him."
Carter shrugged. "Don't ask me. Just head up. Suite 1901. And, Ava?" He leaned in, his voice a warning. "Don't screw this up."
The elevator ride to the top floor felt like it took forever. Ava's palms were damp, her heart pounding. Why her? It made no sense. She reached the penthouse suite and knocked gently.
A tall man in a suit — probably Cross's assistant — opened the door and gestured for her to enter. The suite was a masterpiece. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the glittering city, and soft jazz played in the background.
Then she saw him…..
Damian Cross stood by the window, a glass of something dark in his hand. Even from a distance, his presence was undeniable. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and a chiseled jaw. His tailored suit hugged his frame like it was made for no one else.
He turned slowly, and for the first time, Ava met his eyes.
They were… piercing. Not cruel, but cold….Intelligent. As if he could see right through her. The room seemed to shrink, the air heavier.
"You're Ava Sinclair," he said, his voice low and smooth.
She cleared her throat. "Yes, sir. I… I was asked to—"
"I know," he cut her off. "I requested you."
She didn't know what to say. No guest had ever requested her. She was just a hotel staff, unnoticed, replaceable.
He took a step closer, studying her. "You work hard. Quiet. Reliable."
Ava's stomach tightened. How did he know that? Who noticed those things about her?
"I need someone I can trust while I'm here. You'll oversee my requests from now on."
Ava's lips parted, ready to protest, but the look in his eyes silenced her. It wasn't harsh but firm and certain. Like this was already decided.
"I… I'll do my best, sir."
His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, then he nodded.
"Good."
As she turned to leave, his voice stopped her.
"Ava."
She looked back.
"Never let anyone dim your fire."
She blinked, stunned. No one had ever said something like that to her... Not Bryan…..Not anyone.
Ava stepped out into the hallway, heart pounding, and leaned against the wall.
What was happening?
Whatever it was… it had only just begun.