Sunday morning should have been simple.
Smile.
Attend the Vance Foundation charity luncheon.
Hold Xander’s hand when cameras appeared.
Collect the remaining ten thousand dollars.
Go home.
Return to school.
Forget the billionaire existed.
Instead, Maya woke thinking about Caroline’s warning.
When Xander finds out why his father really died...
She considered telling him.
Then she remembered the contempt in Caroline’s face.
Maybe it was manipulation.
Maybe Caroline wanted to create distrust.
Maya had no evidence.
So she said nothing.
The charity luncheon took place inside a renovated train station that the Vance Foundation had converted into a public arts center.
The moment Maya entered, her architecture instincts took over.
She tilted her head toward the restored steel beams.
“They kept the original trusses.”
Xander looked upward.
“You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Falling in love with buildings.”
Maya smiled.
“They preserved the industrial skeleton instead of hiding it.”
“You sound happier discussing steel than most people sound discussing vacations.”
“Steel doesn’t lie.”
Xander looked at her.
“That sounded personal.”
“Maybe I’ve had a strange weekend.”
He nodded.
“Fair.”
The luncheon raised scholarship money for students from low-income families.
Maya hadn’t known that.
She watched teenagers present design, science, and engineering projects.
One girl stood beside a small model of an environmentally sustainable apartment complex.
Maya stopped.
The girl noticed her.
“Are you an architect?”
“Not yet.”
“Your badge says architecture.”
Maya looked down.
She had forgotten she was wearing her university ID again.
Bad habit.
The girl smiled.
“I want to study architecture.”
Maya crouched beside the model.
“Tell me about this.”
For ten minutes, the crowded gala disappeared.
Maya asked questions.
She encouraged the girl.
She pointed out one clever ventilation idea.
Xander watched from several feet away.
Elena stood beside him.
“She forgot you exist.”
Xander nodded.
“She does that often.”
“You’re smiling.”
“I smile.”
“Not like that.”
Xander gave her a warning look.
Elena walked away.
Later, Maya and Xander were scheduled to present a scholarship.
The recipient was the same girl.
Her name was Jasmine.
She nearly cried when her name was announced.
Maya did cry.
Quietly.
Xander noticed.
“You okay?”
Maya wiped her cheek quickly.
“My mother would have loved this.”
When they stepped offstage, Xander pulled her aside.
“What?”
“I want to fund your tuition.”
Maya stared at him.
“No.”
“You didn’t even think.”
“I did. The answer is no.”
“Why?”
“Because we have a contract.”
“This is separate.”
“It won’t feel separate.”
“Maya—”
“No.”
He looked frustrated.
“You work three jobs.”
“Yes.”
“You almost lost your apartment.”
“Yes.”
“You’re talented.”
“Thank you.”
“So let me help.”
She shook her head.
“You’re already paying me more money than I’ve ever had at one time.”
“For a service.”
“Exactly.”
“That makes this different.”
“Yes. Too different.”
Xander ran a hand through his hair.
“I don’t understand you.”
Maya smiled sadly.
“That might be why you hired me.”
Before he could answer, photographers approached.
“Mr. Vance!”
“Maya!”
“Over here!”
Their argument disappeared behind practiced smiles.
Xander placed his hand at her waist.
Maya rested one hand on his chest.
Flash.
Flash.
Flash.
One reporter called out, “How serious is it?”
Maya expected Xander to give the prepared answer.
We’re enjoying our time together.
Instead, he looked at her.
“More serious than I expected.”
Maya’s smile faltered.
The cameras captured it.
Later, she confronted him in a private hallway.
“That wasn’t in the script.”
“I know.”
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t know.”
That answer frightened her more than anything else.
Xander stepped closer.
“I don’t want tonight to be the end.”
Maya stared at him.
“The contract ends tonight.”
“I’m aware.”
“You paid me.”
“I’m painfully aware.”
“Then what are you asking?”
He hesitated.
“For dinner.”
“We’ve had dinner.”
“A real one.”
Her pulse quickened.
“No grandmother?”
“No.”
“No photographers?”
“No.”
“No money?”
“No.”
Maya searched his face.
“Why?”
“Because I like you.”
The simplicity of it left her defenseless.
She looked away.
“This is a bad idea.”
“Probably.”
“You’re a billionaire.”
“I’ve been told.”
“I’m twenty-two.”
“I’m aware.”
“I serve drinks at your parties.”
“You also insult me at my parties.”
“That isn’t helping.”
He almost smiled.
Maya’s voice softened.
“Our lives don’t fit.”
“Maybe dinner doesn’t require matching lives.”
She wanted to say no.
She should have.
Instead, she said, “One dinner.”
Xander smiled.
“Tomorrow?”
“I work tomorrow.”
“Tuesday?”
“Library.”
“Wednesday?”
“Coffee shop until nine.”
“Thursday?”
“Studio class.”
He stared.
“How do you survive?”
“Poorly.”
“Friday.”
Maya sighed.
“Friday.”
The contract ended that evening.
Elena transferred the remaining payment.
Maya returned to her apartment.
Everything looked the same.
Crooked table.
Cheap lamp.
Stacks of models.
But Maya didn’t feel the same.
Friday arrived slowly.
Xander took her to a small neighborhood restaurant.
No private room.
No limousine waiting outside.
No photographers.
Maya was surprised.
“You eat here?”
“My father brought me when I was a kid.”
They shared pasta.
Xander told stories about being expelled from summer camp at thirteen.
Maya laughed so hard she almost choked.
He told her he used to build computers in his grandmother’s garage.
She told him about designing cardboard cities when she was eight.
For three hours, money disappeared.
At the end of the night, Xander walked her home.
He stopped outside her apartment building.
“This is where I live,” Maya said unnecessarily.
“I remember.”
“Caroline showed you?”
His expression changed.
“What?”
Maya realized her mistake.
“Nothing.”
“Maya.”
She sighed.
“She investigated me.”
Xander’s face went cold.
“When?”
“Saturday.”
“What did she say?”
“That she knew I owed rent.”
His jaw tightened.
“And?”
Maya hesitated.
“And she offered me money to leave you.”
Xander laughed bitterly.
“Of course she did.”
“There was something else.”
He waited.
Maya looked at him.
“She said something about your father.”
Every muscle in his face changed.
“What?”
“She said when you found out why he really died, our arrangement wouldn’t be the biggest lie in your family.”
Silence.
Xander stepped back.
“What exactly did she say?”
Maya repeated it.
His expression hardened.
“You should have told me immediately.”
“I didn’t know if it meant anything.”
“You should have told me.”
“I’m telling you now.”
“After almost a week.”
“Four days.”
“That isn’t the point.”
Maya’s own frustration rose.
“I barely know you.”
“That didn’t stop you from taking my money.”
The second he said it, regret flashed across his face.
Maya became completely still.
Xander whispered, “Maya—”
“No.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“You did.”
She opened the building door.
“Maya.”
She turned.
“You want to know the difference between you and Caroline?”
He looked stunned.
“Caroline uses money because she thinks it makes her better than people.”
Maya’s eyes filled.
“You use it when you’re scared someone might be equal to you.”
She went inside.
Xander stood alone outside.
Maya climbed the stairs fighting tears.
She reached her apartment.
On the floor beneath her door was an envelope.
No stamp.
No name.
Inside was a photograph.
A younger Xander.
His father.
And another man Maya recognized from the charity luncheon.
Caroline’s father.
On the back, someone had written:
ASK XANDER WHO PROFITED WHEN HIS FATHER DIED.
Maya stared at the words.
Then someone knocked behind her.
She spun around.
Xander stood in the hallway.
His face was pale.
And in his hand was an identical photograph.
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