The dawn was cruel that winter morning. The snow clung stubbornly to the ground, icy winds biting against bare skin.
Dragging a battered box behind her, Seraphina Elara Duvall clenched her teeth as the wheels snagged in the snow. The box held the last remnants of her life—her late mother's books, a faded quilt that still smelled of lavender, and clothes too thin for the cold. Her arms ached, but her heart ached more.
"This town better be worth it," she whispered, exhaling fog into the frozen air. "For you, Mama, I'll keep going."
Just as she tugged the box forward, headlights slashed through the pale dawn. A sleek black car sped down the deserted road, the kind of luxury vehicle that didn't belong in a half-forgotten town. Before Seraphina could move, the car screeched—its tires skidding over ice—and slammed into her box.
The crash sent her belongings flying into the snow. Books scattered, the quilt drifted into a dirty puddle, and her meager clothes tumbled into the frost.
"Hey!" Seraphina cried, stumbling after her things.
The driver cursed under his breath, braking hard. He hurried out in a sharp suit, his breath steaming in the icy air. "Miss, are you hurt?"
Seraphina glared at him, brushing snow from her gloves. "You nearly killed my mother's books!"
But her voice faltered when the car window glided down with a soft hum.
Inside, seated like a king in his throne, was a man with a face chiseled in stone—sharp jaw, cold gray eyes that seemed untouched by warmth, and an aura so commanding it made the world feel smaller. Cassian Vale.
The billionaire everyone in the city whispered about. Ruthless. Untouchable. Dangerous.
His gaze swept over her like a blade, stopping briefly at the scarf wrapped around her neck—a soft yellow one, frayed at the edges, but glowing brightly against the white dawn. For some reason, he paused.
Then, without a word of apology, Cassian pulled out a sleek wallet, flicked a wad of bills, and tossed them through the window. The notes landed in the snow at her boots.
"Replace your trash," his voice was deep, detached, and cutting. "Driver, go."
The car engine purred, ready to swallow the road again.
Seraphina's chest burned. She bent, snatched the money, and hurled it back at the car. The notes scattered in the wind like ashes.
"You arrogant bastard!" she shouted, her voice carrying in the frozen silence.
For a split second, Cassian's eyes narrowed, the corner of his lip twitching as if her words had pierced a crack in his armor.
Then the window slid up, and the car vanished into the horizon.
Seraphina sank into the snow, clutching her yellow scarf, the cold biting into her bones. She had lost her mother, her home, and now even her dignity seemed scattered on the icy ground.
For a moment, silence swallowed the road again. Her breath came in sharp bursts, fogging the air. Slowly, Seraphina forced herself to stand, brushing the snow from her yellow scarf.
By the time Seraphina gathered her belongings from the snow, her fingers were numb, and her heart weighed heavy. The quilt was soaked, the books ruined, and her pride bruised beyond repair.
"That man," she muttered under her breath, her lips trembling with cold and fury. "May his car skid into the nearest ditch."
The wish didn't warm her, but cursing him helped her stand straighter. She tugged the broken box behind her again, step by step, until the outline of the small town finally appeared against the faint glow of morning.
The town was quiet, roofs frosted white, chimneys releasing thin curls of smoke. Somewhere here was the little apartment of her childhood friend—the only person who had begged her to leave the countryside after her mother's death.
At last, she reached a narrow building with ivy climbing its walls. She raised her fist to knock, but the door flew open first.
"Seraphina!" A bright voice pierced the morning. Lyra Moreau, with hair the color of chestnuts and a smile that could melt frost, pulled her into a fierce embrace.
"You look frozen! Why didn't you call when you arrived?"
"I wanted to surprise you," Seraphina said with a tired smile, though her eyes burned with unshed tears.
Lyra noticed the soaked quilt and ruined books. "What happened?"
Seraphina exhaled sharply, biting back her anger. "A devil in a luxury car."
Lyra's brow arched. "Welcome to the city. Devils in luxury cars are everywhere."
They laughed faintly, but Seraphina couldn't shake the image of those cold gray eyes behind tinted glass. The arrogance, the indifference… it wasn't something she'd ever forget.
She followed Lyra inside, warmth seeping back into her limbs. The little apartment was cluttered but alive—sunlight touching stacks of books, the smell of coffee filling the air. For the first time since her mother's passing, Seraphina felt a fragile sense of home.
Lyra set a steaming cup in her hands. "Rest now. Everything will be different from today. This city… it might finally give you the life you deserve."
Seraphina smiled faintly and looked out the frosted window. The dawn sky was bleeding into gold, as though promising her a new beginning.