Chapter 1 — Breaking Point

Sophie

Sophie Bennett yanked the strap of her tote bag higher onto her shoulder as she hurried down the crowded Manhattan sidewalk. The late afternoon sun cut through the steel-and-glass jungle above, but its warmth failed to reach her. Everything felt cold. Impersonal. She tightened her grip on the handles of her bag, the weight of the bills inside—both the literal and metaphorical ones—pressing against her ribs like a lead anchor.

Her sneakers slapped against the concrete as she rounded the corner to her third, and hopefully final, job interview for the week. The last two had gone as well as she’d expected, which was to say, not at all. The memory of the polished, polite smiles of rejection still lingered, like a bad aftertaste.

“Ms. Bennett, while your resourcefulness is admirable, we’re looking for someone with a more... traditional background.”

The words echoed in her mind, a cruel refrain she couldn’t shake. She’d smiled politely, nodded as if the rejection hadn’t stung, but the walk home afterward had felt heavier than usual. She knew what “traditional” meant. It meant someone whose parents paid for Ivy League educations and summer internships, not someone who’d spent their teenage years running shifts at the neighborhood diner to help keep the lights on at home.

As Sophie approached the office building on 43rd Street, she forced herself to take a deep breath. This was her last shot—the one thing standing between her and the inevitable conversation with Liam about why his tuition wouldn’t be covered this month. Again. She couldn’t let him down. Not after everything he’d already given up.

Pushing her way through the heavy glass doors, Sophie plastered on her best determined smile. Her thrift-store blouse clung to her shoulders, and she straightened it with quick, practiced hands before stepping into the elevator. She caught her reflection in the polished doors as they slid shut: wavy chestnut hair threatening rebellion, hazel eyes shadowed with exhaustion but still lit with determination, lips pressed into a thin line of resolve.

“You’ve got this,” she whispered to herself, gripping the strap of her bag tighter. But the words felt like they were fighting to stay afloat in a sea of doubt. What if this went the same way as the others? What if she wasn’t enough?

Her father’s old notebook, tucked safely inside the bag, seemed to weigh heavier in that moment, its worn cover a quiet reminder of the sacrifices her family had made. She thought of the scrawled quotes inside, his voice echoing faintly in her memory: “Keep your head up, Soph. You’re tougher than you think.”

The elevator chimed, jolting her out of her thoughts. The doors opened to reveal a reception area so sleek and polished that Sophie almost felt underdressed just by standing in it. The floors gleamed in an expensive shade of gray, the walls were adorned with minimalist artwork that probably cost more than her entire apartment, and the air smelled faintly of leather and ambition.

The receptionist, a young man with impossibly white teeth and perfect posture, didn’t look up from his tablet until Sophie stepped forward. His gaze flickered over her, assessing. “Ms. Bennett?” he asked, his tone cool but efficient, as though her presence was mildly inconvenient.

“That’s me,” Sophie replied, forcing cheerfulness into her voice. She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t let the city’s unspoken hierarchies intimidate her, but the icy detachment in the receptionist’s expression made her feel small.

“He’s expecting you,” he said, gesturing toward the frosted glass doors at the end of the hall. “Through there.”

“Thanks,” Sophie said, even though he’d already returned his attention to the tablet. Her heels clicked softly against the polished floor as she walked, her nerves ratcheting up with every step. The soft hum of the building seemed to amplify the pounding of her heart.

By the time she reached the door, her palms were damp, and she had to discreetly wipe them on her skirt before reaching for the handle. She pushed it open and stepped into an office that was more like a statement of power than a workspace.

Floor-to-ceiling windows framed a sprawling view of the city, the sunlight reflecting off skyscrapers below. The furniture was all clean lines and muted colors, the only splash of warmth coming from the mahogany desk near the center of the room. Behind it sat a man who could have stepped straight out of a GQ cover shoot.

Daniel Cross.

Sophie had Googled him the night before, scrolling through articles and interviews that painted him as a visionary in his field, a ruthless genius who’d built his company from the ground up. In person, he was even more intimidating. Tall, broad-shouldered, and impeccably dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, he exuded wealth and authority. His dark hair was neat with a subtle touch of gray at the temples, and his piercing blue eyes lifted from the papers on his desk to lock onto hers.

“Ms. Bennett,” he said, his tone low and measured, as though he’d already categorized her and wasn’t particularly impressed.

“Mr. Cross,” Sophie replied, her voice steady despite the nerves threatening to choke her. She crossed the room and extended her hand, which he shook briefly before motioning for her to sit.

The chair opposite him was as sleek and uncomfortable as she’d expected, but Sophie refused to fidget. She squared her shoulders and met his gaze, refusing to be the first to look away.

“You’ve had an interesting career path,” Daniel said, flipping through the papers on his desk—her resume, no doubt. “Your background isn’t exactly... conventional for this role.”

It was the same line she’d heard in every other office this week, but something in his tone was different. He wasn’t dismissing her outright. Not yet.

“I’m not conventional,” Sophie said, leaning forward slightly. “But I am resourceful. I’ve managed competing schedules, juggled multiple responsibilities, and worked under pressure for most of my life. I know how to adapt, and I know how to get things done.”

Daniel’s expression didn’t change, but she caught the faintest flicker of interest in his eyes. “That’s quite the pitch, Ms. Bennett. But this role isn’t just about multitasking or staying organized. It requires discretion, quick thinking, and the ability to handle high-pressure situations without cracking.”

Sophie allowed herself a small, self-deprecating smile. “If you’re looking for someone who thrives on pressure, I’m your candidate. I’ve been handling high-stakes situations since I was sixteen and figuring out how to pay the rent.”

That got a reaction. Daniel’s brows lifted slightly, his gaze sharpening as though he was seeing her for the first time. For a moment, silence stretched between them, the hum of the city outside the windows the only sound.

Then, unexpectedly, he leaned back in his chair, his piercing gaze still locked on hers. “Tell me,” he said, his tone softer but no less commanding, “why do you want this job?”

There it was. The question. The one she’d been preparing for, even as she dreaded it. She could give him a polished, rehearsed answer about career growth and professional challenges, but something told her he’d see right through it. So she decided to risk the truth.

“Because I want more,” Sophie said simply. “More than what I’ve had, more than what my family’s had. I’m not ashamed of where I come from, but I’ve worked too hard not to want better. For myself, for my brother...” She hesitated, then added, “For the people who’ve sacrificed to get me here.”

Daniel studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Sophie held her breath, unsure if she’d just impressed him or completely ruined her chances. Finally, he nodded, a single sharp movement that felt more like a verdict than an acknowledgment.

“Your honesty is refreshing,” he said. “Not many people would admit that.”

Sophie exhaled slowly, her pulse still racing. “Thank you, Mr. Cross.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said, rising from his chair and extending a hand. “You start Monday.”

It took a second for his words to register, and when they did, Sophie’s brain stumbled. She blinked up at him, sure she’d misheard. “Wait—what?”

“You heard me,” Daniel said, his lips twitching into what might have been the ghost of a smile. “Monday. Nine a.m. Don’t be late.”

Sophie stood on autopilot, shaking his hand again. His grip was firm, steady, and she had to remind herself to let go. “I won’t,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

As she left the office, her thoughts were a swirling mess of disbelief, relief, and pride. By the time she stepped back out onto the bustling sidewalk, sunlight spilling over her like a benediction, she couldn’t keep the grin off her face.

For the first time in a long time, Sophie Bennett felt like she might actually be getting somewhere.