BOUND BY HIS NAME

Two years.

That would be about one five thousand dollars-and how?

Where could I get such an amount of money from?

That was the question I kept asking myself as I pressed my forehead against the cold metal gate, my chest feeling hollow.

"Oh God, please help me," I whispered-to no one but myself.

That night, I slept outside, behind the bakery across from my mother's apartment.

By morning, my body ached, my heart felt raw, and my stomach cried from hunger. But the image of my mother's pale, fragile face in the hospital left me with no choice but to keep going.

I remembered Ana mentioning the café she went to. I decided to try my luck there, hoping-praying-not to be rejected.

The moment I stepped into the café, noise surrounded me. Laughter. Whispering. Voices everywhere.

I headed straight to the counter. Luckily, a lady was seems to be the manager, she was standing there tall with sharp eyebrows and an unreadable expression.

She spoke in a calm, gentle tone.

"Yes. What can I offer you?"

"Nothing, ma'am," I said quickly. "I just came to ask if you need anyone to assist-like a waitress."

"Nope. I'm not looking for any waitress," she replied, tapping her nails against the counter.

"But ma'am, even if it's a cleaning job, I'll do it," I pleaded. "Please."

My knees nearly touched the floor.

She studied me for a moment. Then she smirked.

"Fine. Let's see how desperate you are."

She raised an eyebrow and snapped her fingers at one of the baristas.

"Prepare a large caramel espresso."

The barista nodded.

She turned back to me, arms crossed.

"Take that coffee across the street. Table nineteen on the outdoor terrace. Fast. If you can handle one customer, I'll consider you."

"That's it?" I blinked.

I had barely taken a step toward the door when my phone buzzed. I checked it-and my heart stopped.

URGENT: Your mother's condition worsened overnight. She has been moved to the emergency room.

My chest cracked open.

My breath stuttered.

My legs weakened.

"No... no, no," I whispered, tears blurring my vision.

In that split second, I didn't see the raised curb.

My shoe caught. My arm jerked. The world tilted.

The coffee flew through the air-and exploded across a man's gray suit as he stepped into the café.

I froze.

He froze.

"Oh-my God," I breathed. "Sir, please, I'm so sorry." The words spilled out without control.

He slowly raised his head.

Sharp jawline. Storm-dark eyes.

His presence made the entire street pause, as if everyone was watching a scene I had just created.

Alejandro De La Vega.

I recognized him instantly-the most powerful and dangerous billionaire in Mexico. The heir to De La Vega Company.

"What," he said slowly, his voice low and dangerous, "did you just do?"

The sound of his voice sent my thoughts spinning. It was silky, controlled, terrifying.

"I-I'm sorry, sir," I stammered. "I didn't mean it. It was an accident."

"Do you know how much this suit costs?"

I flinched, my eyes wide, my heart slamming against my ribs.

Alejandro exhaled slowly-dangerously. Like a man holding back an explosion.

Then his gaze dropped to me.

I swear the temperature dropped.

"You," he said quietly, "do you have any idea what you've done?"

"I-I'm so sorry," I whispered. "Please, I didn't mean-"

"You ruined a meeting worth more than your annual income."

Ouch.

"I tripped," I tried to explain. "It was an accident."

"Accidents," he said, stepping closer, "are what children make. Not adults."

His words scraped something raw inside me.

Anger. Embarrassment. Fear.

People stared. Whispers spread through the café.

"I'll pay for the dry cleaning," I blurted. "Or-or the shirt. Just please let me explain."

He laughed-but there was no humor in it.

Only ice.

"This shirt," he said, flicking the soaked fabric with two fingers, "costs more than you earn in a month."

I swallowed hard.

"You should watch where you're going instead of-"

He stopped.

Because my phone buzzed again, still open in my hand.

The doctor's message glowed on the screen.

He glanced at it, and something flickered across his face-curiosity? Judgment? I couldn't tell.

I quickly lowered the phone, my cheeks burning.

He stepped closer, invading my space.

"For someone this distracted," he murmured darkly, "you shouldn't be carrying hot drinks."

That should've made me apologize again. Instead, something inside me snapped.

"I said it was an accident," I hissed. "I didn't pour coffee on you for fun."

Something shifted in his expression.

Interest? Annoyance? Both.

"What's your name?" he demanded.

"I-I don't see how that's relevant."

"It's relevant," he said coldly, "because I don't like not knowing the name of the person who just cost me a multi-million-peso negotiation."

My mouth fell open.

A date... was a negotiation?

Then again, men like him don't date-they strategize.

He leaned closer, his voice dropping dangerously low.

"So. Name."

"...Isabella," I whispered.

His eyes lingered on me-too long, too intensely.

"Well, Isabella," he said softly, chillingly, "I always repay people who inconvenience me."

My stomach dropped. "That's not necessary-"

"Oh, it is," he murmured. "You'll see me again."

It sounded like a promise. Or a threat.

A black car pulled up beside him. The driver rushed out, horror spreading across his face as he saw the ruined suit.

"Sir-"

Alejandro raised a hand, silencing him.

He gave me one last look-sharp, unreadable, dangerous.

Then he got into the car.

It drove away, leaving me trembling in the street, holding an empty coffee cup and a broken job opportunity.

When I walked back into the café, the manager's politeness vanished.

"You embarrassed us," she snapped. "You made a scene."

"I didn't- do it Intentionally"

"You're not hired."

Those three words crushed me.

I walked out in a daze, fighting the burn behind my eyes.

Failed interview.

Destroyed suit.

Angry billionaire.

Sick mother waiting for hope I couldn't give.

My world felt like it was collapsing.

I sank onto a bus-stop bench and covered my face with my hands.

What else could go wrong today?

I didn't know.

But the universe clearly did.

I remembered the last words Alejandro whispered as he walked away:

"Isabella Ramirez. Let's see who you really are."