Chapter 4

• Penelope’s POV
• The silence in the room was deafening. I sat on the hospital bed, staring blankly at the wall in front of me that suddenly looked so interesting to me.
• My body felt heavy, like a weight was pressing me down, but nothing could compare to the crushing void inside my chest.
• I’m feeling so empty— Like something had left me the moment I discovered my father couldn’t make it out of this cruel hospital alive!
• I didn’t cry. I couldn’t cry. There were no more tears left.
• “Miss Lorenzo,” the deep voice broke into my thoughts and the silence of the room, pulling me out of my trance.
• I turned my head slightly, barely registering the man standing by the door. Brayden Giovanni. The stranger who brought me here, who claimed to have hit me with his car. I didn’t care who he was. Nothing mattered anymore.
• “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and calm.
• I let out a bitter laugh, hollow and lifeless. “Am I okay?” I repeated, shaking my head. “What kind of question is that?”
• He stepped closer, his gray eyes watching me intently. “You’ve been through a lot.”
• “A lot?” I echoed, staring at him now. “I’ve lost everything. My father…” My voice cracked, but I refused to break down. “He was all I had. And now he’s gone.”
• Brayden didn’t respond immediately. His silence only made the ache in my chest worse.
• “I’m all alone in this world,” I whispered, looking back at the blank wall. “No one to turn to. Nowhere to go. Nothing to hold on to.”
• His footsteps echoed as he walked closer, stopping a few feet from my bed. “You’re not alone.”
• I scoffed, the sound sharp and bitter. “Don’t pretend you care. You don’t even know me.”
• “You’re right,” he admitted, his voice steady. “I don’t know you. But I know enough.”
• I frowned, glancing at him. “What do you mean by that?”
• “My assistant looked into your situation,” he said, his tone direct. “Your father’s medical history, your struggles, your attempts to do the right thing despite everything working against you. You’re a fighter, Miss Lorenzo.”
• His words stung, not because they were untrue, but because they reminded me of how hard I’d tried—and how much I’d lost.
• “I tried,” I murmured, my voice trembling. “I really tried. I did everything I could to save him. I begged, I pleaded…” My hands clenched the blanket on my lap. “And it wasn’t enough. Nothing I do is ever enough.”
• Brayden’s gaze never wavered. His presence was overwhelming, but oddly, it didn’t feel suffocating. It felt… grounding.
• “You did more than most would,” he said quietly.
• “And look where it got me,” I replied, my voice cold. “He’s gone. I have no family. No job. No home. Nothing.”
• I looked up at him, anger and despair swirling in my chest. “Do you know what that feels like? To lose everything? To be left with nothing but emptiness?”
• He didn’t answer right away. His eyes softened—just a fraction—as if he understood more than he let on.
• “I’ve lost things,” he said after a moment, his voice softer than before. “Not the same way you have, but loss is something I know well.”
• I didn’t respond. I didn’t want to. Talking felt like reopening a wound that refused to heal.
• After a long pause, he spoke again. “Miss Lorenzo, this is partially my fault.”
• I blinked, taken aback. “What?”
• “I hit you with my car,” he said bluntly, his tone filled with certainty. “If I hadn’t… maybe you wouldn’t have been hurt. Maybe you would’ve had more time to be with your father.”
• I stared at him, his words hitting me like a tidal wave. I didn’t know what to say.
• “I can’t undo what’s happened,” he continued, “but I can try to make things right.”
• I narrowed my eyes. “Make things right? How exactly do you plan to do that?”
• “I’ll settle all the hospital bills,” he said without hesitation. “Your father’s. Yours. Everything.”
• His words stunned me into silence. For a moment, I thought I’d misheard him.
• “What?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
• “You won’t have to worry about the expenses,” he said firmly. “It’s the least I can do.”
• I shook my head, the weight of his words sinking in. “Why would you do that? What do you want in return?”
• “Nothing,” he replied, his voice steady. “I take responsibility for my actions.”
• I stared at him, searching for any hint of deception. But his expression was unreadable behind that mask, his gray eyes unwavering.
• “And there’s more,” he added.
• My brows furrowed. “More?”
• “I’m offering you a job.”
• The words hung in the air like a thunderclap.
• “A job?” I repeated, my voice filled with disbelief. How could I just believe everyone after all I’ve experienced?
• “Yes,” he said simply.
• I blinked at him, unsure if I’d heard correctly. “You’re offering me… a job?”
• “Yes,” he confirmed, his gaze not leaving my face.
• I turned to fully face him, my mind racing. “Why? Why would you do that?”
• “That’s a discussion for another time,” he said, his tone firm.
• I didn’t know whether to be grateful, suspicious, or outright angry. My life was already in shambles, and now this stranger—this imposing, enigmatic man—was offering me a lifeline.
• I looked away, my thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and doubt.
• Brayden Giovanni’s POV
• I watched her, waiting for her response. Penelope Lorenzo was unlike anyone I’d ever met. Despite her brokenness, there was a fire in her, a resilience that drew me in.
• Her hesitation was expected. She’d been through hell, and trust didn’t come easily.
• But I was a man of my word. I always followed through. And now, I had set something in motion that neither of us could stop.
• “Do you accept?” I asked, breaking the silence.
• Her head snapped up, her wide eyes filled with questions she wasn’t ready to ask.