Ethan Hatton had received several images and a text messages from his publicist, Nichs Smith. They were pictures of himself and Emily,ing out of The Luxe hotel and also at the restaurant with the head line


    ‘Billionaire son andmon girl; Who’s the mystery girl?”


    “The media is going to release this, should we block it” Nichs had sent.


    Ethan stared at the pictures and text for a second, he weighed the pros and cons of the media releasing these pictures with that headline and the only con he could think about was lying to Emily about his name and he didn’t want her to find out through the media. But then, if the media releases this, it could push an idea of him getting married and secure the deal a lot of faster.


    “No, let them release it” he sent back to Nichs. He would find Emily and exin to herter and he would ask her to marry him, he liked her decently enough but for that moment he had to go back to the board meeting to repair the damage Jackson had caused, that silly little kid.


    Ethan knew getting the trust of the investors wouldn’t be so difficult because of the tales of losing that contract wasn’t exactly news to them. It had beenid out on the table at the beginning of the investment talks and they were businessmen, there were no sessful businesses without a few failures and they understood that, yet it still baffled him what Jackson was trying to achieve and he didn’t want to have to be wary of his brother.


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    That morning, as dawn broke over the city casting a soft glow through the thin curtains of Emily Walker’s small, cramped apartment. Emily woke up with weary eyes and her heart heavy with the weight of an impending eviction. The two-day notice she found pasted to her door the night before clung to her thoughts like a relentless shadow, threatening to cast her into the unforgiving streets. Herst option was going back to her grandmother’s house and that was thest thing she wanted to do.


    With a resigned sigh, Emily pushed herself up, her worn out slippers padding silently on the tile floor. She moved through the cramped space, the walls adorned with peeling paint and her very own faded dreams. Poverty had been her unweepanion for far too long and now, the walls were closing in. In her tiny kitchen, she brewed a humble pot of coffee to kickstart her day, the aroma filling the air with a bittersweetfort. The morning sun yed through the cracks in the window, casting fleeting rays of hope upon her weary face. She clutched the cup between her trembling hands, seeking sce in its warmth as she contemted her next move, but she had to go to work. She quickly dressed up in her uniform, ncing at the reflection in her cracked bathroom mirror.


    Arriving at The Luxe hotel, she was greeted by the grandeur of polished marble floors and shimmering chandeliers, she ventured into thebyrinth of the corridors, armed with her cleaning supplies and an unyielding resolve. She settled at her duty post, the ground floordies room, scrubbing away the remnants of indulgence and excess, all the while carrying the weight of her own uncertain fate.


    Suddenly, Cheryl rushed into the stall where she worked tirelessly with her hair a bright shade of blue that surprised Emily.


    “What’s with your hair?” she wanted to ask but Cheryl shushed her, pulling her out of the toilet stall and shoving her phone into her hands.


    “What’s the matter?” Emily stared baffled, not understanding what all the fuss was all about.


    “Look!” Cheryl pointed at the picture on the phone an when Emily focused her eyes on it, she gasped, her eyes nearly falling out of the sockets. It was a picture of her an the weird guy who took her a fancy restaurant the day before. They were seated in the restaurant, next to the window and the camera captured them sharing a knowing smile and one would think they were a lovely couple. She scrolled further and it was another picture of both of theming out of this very hotel, with him conveniently walking behind. The headline reading


    ‘Billionaire’s son andmon girl; Who’s the mystery girl?’


    “That’s Ethan Hatton, the billionaire I told you about” Cheryl squealed, her statementsing in rushed.


    “No, that’s Ethan Jacobs” she said “At least that’s what he told me” she scrolled further through the pictures unable to believe her eyes.


    “What does this mean, I don’t get it?” Emily asked, confusion clouding her already foggy brain, why were there pictures of her rounding the inte calling her a mystery girl.


    “Where did you meet him” Cheryl asked and she was about to respond and tell her all about the ident when her phone started ringing and it was Ethan Jacobs calling, she had saved his number that day, she picked immediately.


    “Where are you?” was the first thing he breathed into her ears through the phone in hushed whispers.


    “You’re a billionaire and your name is not Ethan Jacob” she fired back, her voiceced with an emotion that confused her, while Cheryl stared inquisitively at her


    “Emily for God’s sake, just tell me where you are. I’ll exin everything when I see you”


    “Please” he added when she stayed quiet


    “I’m at The Luxe” she said quietly.


    “What are you doing there?” there was a hint of possessiveness in his voice, and she rolled her eyes.


    “I work here” she said to him and she heard him sigh like he suddenly caught himself.


    “I’m on my way Emily, please wait for me”