Chapter 1: The Woman Nobody Was Allowed to Touch
"GET THAT FILTHY HOMELESS WOMAN OUT OF MY SALON!""
The scream echoed through the marble-floored beauty salon on Fifth Avenue.
Every head turned.
A woman wearing a white Chanel suit stood near the reception desk, holding a tiny designer handbag against her chest as if my presence might somehow contaminate it.
I lowered my eyes.
I knew that look. I'd seen it in subway stations, restaurants, department stores, and hotel lobbies.
People didn't see me as a woman.
They saw a problem that needed to be removed.
"My name is Wren," I whispered, gripping the sleeves of my oversized coat.
"I'm not here to cause trouble.""
The salon manager, a perfectly groomed man named Richard, approached with two security guards.
"Miss, you need to leave immediately.""
Before I could answer, a familiar voice cut through the room.
"She isn't going anywhere.""
The entire salon went silent.
Adrian Kane had entered.
He wore a charcoal designer suit, a black cashmere overcoat, and an expression that made grown men reconsider their decisions.
I had met him less than twelve hours earlier.
And I had absolutely no idea why a man like him would care whether I lived or died.
"Mr. Kane!"" Richard immediately straightened.
"I didn't realize you were expecting someone.""
Adrian didn't look at him.
He walked directly toward me.
"Are you comfortable, Wren?""
I nodded, although my knees were shaking.
Then he noticed Richard's hand resting on my elbow.
"Take your hands off her.""
Richard released me so quickly that he nearly stumbled.
"Of course, sir. I apologize.""
Adrian placed a thick envelope on the reception counter.
"There's ninety thousand dollars inside. Close this salon for the day. Every stylist, every specialist, every service she needs. Charge everything to me.""
Richard stared at the envelope.
"Nine... ninety thousand?""
"Do I need to repeat myself?""
"No, sir.""
The woman in the Chanel suit suddenly found her voice.
"Adrian, darling, surely you aren't wasting that kind of money on someone who sleeps in the street?""
Adrian finally turned toward her.
"Mrs. Whitaker, I suggest you leave before I reconsider every business arrangement I've ever had with your husband.""
Her mouth fell open.
She grabbed her handbag and walked out without another word.
I stared at Adrian.
"Why are you doing this?""
He pulled out a chair.
"Because you saved my life.""
The previous night returned to me in fragments.
Rain.
Blood.
Gunshots.
And a man collapsing behind a dumpster.
I'd been sleeping beneath a fire escape when I heard footsteps running through the alley.
A tall man stumbled into view, clutching his side.
His expensive white shirt was soaked in blood.
"Help me," he'd whispered.
Before I could move, two men carrying guns appeared at the entrance.
"Where did he go?"" one shouted.
The wounded stranger looked at me.
There was terror in his eyes.
Not the kind of fear that came from pain.
The kind that came from knowing someone intended to kill him.
I pulled him behind a pile of cardboard boxes, covered him with an old blanket, and let my long, tangled hair fall across his face.
The armed men searched the alley.
One kicked my sleeping bag.
"Have you seen anyone?""
I shook my head.
"Just me.""
They stared at me for several seconds before disappearing into the rain.
I waited until their footsteps faded.
Then I helped the stranger sit up.
He looked at me strangely.
"What's your name?""
"Wren.""
"I'm Adrian.""
He tried to stand and collapsed again.
I pressed my hands against his wound.
"Don't move. You'll bleed to death.""
He almost smiled.
"People usually don't give me orders.""
"Then tonight you're going to have to make an exception.""
I stayed with him until his bodyguards arrived.
That was the last I expected to see of him.
Until this morning.
Now, sitting in a salon that probably cost more to decorate than I'd earned in my entire life, I didn't know what to do with myself.
Adrian noticed my trembling fingers.
"What's wrong?""
"I don't belong here.""
He leaned forward.
"Neither did I, once.""
A stylist approached us.
He was a handsome man in his thirties with warm brown eyes and a name tag reading DANIEL.
"Mr. Kane, I'm Daniel. I'll be taking care of her today.""
Adrian nodded.
Daniel smiled at me.
"Let's start with a warm shower, some skincare, and a haircut. Your hair is beautiful, but it's carrying years of damage.""
I instinctively touched my tangled hair.
"No.""
Daniel paused.
"Sorry?""
"Please don't cut it.""
Adrian looked at me.
"Wren?""
I swallowed.
"When I was little, someone told me never to cut my hair. He said someone might recognize me if I did.""
"Who told you that?"" Adrian asked.
I shook my head.
"I don't remember his face. I was eight.""
Adrian exchanged a glance with Daniel.
"Then we won't rush anything.""
For the first time in years, someone had asked what I wanted instead of telling me what I needed.
I agreed to wash my hair.
I agreed to let Daniel remove the damaged ends.
But when he lifted the heavy strands away from my neck, I suddenly remembered a man's voice.
A voice from a long time ago.
If anyone asks, your name is Wren. You were never Isabella.
I gripped the armrests.
"Daniel?""
"Yes, sweetheart?""
"Please be careful behind my left ear.""
He stopped.
"Why?""
I didn't know how to explain.
There was something beneath my hair that I hadn't seen in years.
Something I had almost forgotten existed.
And when Daniel finally lifted the scissors, his expression changed.
"Mr. Kane?""
Adrian stood up.
"What is it?""
May you like
Daniel stepped away from my chair.
"Sir, I think you need to see this.""
Related Stories
