The first thing that hit me like a ton of bricks when I opened my eyes was the blinding lights pouring in through the windows. It was like a laser show was going on inside the room. My poor eyes were struggling to adjust, and all I could do was squint and rub them like a crazy person.

“So disgustingly bright,” I grumbled under my breath. My voice was hoarse and raspy.

I tried to sit up, but a sudden jolt of pain surged through my skull, causing me to flinch. It was like someone decided to use my head as a punching bag. I was so damn careful when I touched my head. I spread my fingers out like a detective trying to solve a murder mystery as I tried to pinpoint the origin of the pounding pain. Frustration flooded through me as I desperately attempted to reconstruct the events of the previous evening. Yet, no matter how hard I racked my brain, the memories remained hazy and muddled.

Out of nowhere, a voice broke through my train of thought. "Look who is finally awake."

I bolted upright! My heart was racing and my head was spinning like a gig. The throbbing headache stabbed at my skull like a million knives, making me wince.

What quickly caught my attention the most was him. He commanded the room with his dominant presence, sitting on the right side with a serious expression. His usual sexy and playful demeanour was replaced by intense and focused energy. His eyes were like steel. I felt the tension in the air.

Feeling caught off guard and in a daze, I blurted out. “Mr. Cross, why am I back here?"

He did not answer. Instead, he kept his beautiful eyes fixed on me with an intense stare. Just yesterday was our first encounter, and his mischievous grin and enticing smirks had become my ultimate obsession. Yet, at this moment, it was as if all of that had vanished.

"I am not entirely sure how you managed to track me down, Mr. Cross. Last night's events are still hazy," I lied. "But I suppose I should thank you.”

Mr. Cross chuckled dryly. “Don’t exaggerate. I did not rescue you from kidnappers,” he responded. His voice was distant and devoid of any warmth.

I could not straight up tell him that I would rather him find me any day of the week instead of that fucking lunatic. Like, no way. I absolutely could not say that. But shit! Mr. Cross was no fool. He was going to have some questions.

“You must be hungry. Come. Have something to eat and let's talk.”

I looked at him properly for the first time since I opened my eyes. He looked different now, not as put-together as he was last night. His once crisp white dress shirt was now unbuttoned, and his sleeves were rolled up messily. His hair was a tousled mess, but somehow he still managed to look handsome. Then I remembered something that made my heart ache even more. Grace's skilled doctor's hand, playing in his hair. His hair. The one that I had once run my fingers through while we made out on the same damn balcony. Curiosity filled my mind as I pondered—what other occurrences had taken place between them? A deep sigh escaped my lips, and I felt a lump forming in my throat.

"Mr. Cross," I said with a calm and composed tone as I pulled myself out of bed. "I believe it is best for me to head home. It seems as though you had a long night and could benefit from some much-needed rest."

“Thalia.”

My heart raced, and my body tensed up at the sound of my name. My eyes followed the sound, and I noticed Mr. Cross was standing in the doorway, his back turned towards me. Even though he was not looking at me, I could tell from his posture that he was extremely ticked off.

"Join me. Mike prepared breakfast,” he said, not even glancing back at me.

Upon walking into the dining room, the first thing I noticed was the beautiful table. The elegant tablecloth draped perfectly over the polished wooden surface, and the silverware and china glistened in the soft morning light. There were plates of fluffy pancakes, a platter of crispy bacon, fresh fruit, and a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice placed neatly on the table. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the room, making my stomach growl in anticipation. Honestly, I felt overwhelmed at the sight. I could not believe that this was just a breakfast spread. It looked like something out of a fancy breakfast magazine. It took a moment for me to take it all in, and I had to remind myself to pick my jaw up off the floor. I took my seat, feeling a lump form in my throat. I wanted to cry at the sheer extravagance of it all. Breakfast was always a hurried affair between me and my mother. Grab a piece of toast or a bowl of cereal before rushing off to school and work. But here, everything was laid out so perfectly, as if they had all the time in the world. I could not fathom the idea of leisurely enjoying breakfast like this every day.

"I know it's a lot to take in. Don't worry. You will get used to it," he said and poured me a glass of orange juice.

I let out a sarcastic laugh as I forced a smile, trying to hide my true feelings. Let us be real, my readers. You could not deny the fact that being born into wealth was a whole different ball game. You need to have a certain level of privilege to even understand their life.

“Thalia, I was not sure what you would like to eat, so I had Mike prepare different items." Mr. Cross's voice interrupted my thoughts.

“This is very kind of you," I spoke with courtesy, but somehow he seemed very displeased. I could not imagine why.

Despite my unsettled mood, I felt a sense of calm wash over me as the gentle glow of the morning light seeped through every corner. I let out a deep sigh, hoping that its warmth could somehow relieve me from all that troubled me. Including that idiot. Just thinking about that repulsive guy made me want to tighten my grip on this fork and use it as a weapon. I was not sure how, but I knew I had got to get the hell out of the city soon. Like, straight up disappearing somewhere, he would never even think of looking for me.

Mr. Cross cleared his throat before speaking again. “Mike is a great cook, and I wanted to make sure you had some options.”

I just kind of gave him a slow nod, like his words were moving at a snail's pace to register in my brain. But the truth was, my head was filled with so much crap; it was like a never-ending circus, with a million thoughts, escape planning, and emotions swirling around. I could barely keep track of it all.

“Is he, like, your personal chef or something?” I asked.

"Yes," Mr. Cross replied. "He has been employed by my family at the primary residence for quite some time. From now on, Mike will be under my employment here."

Who would have thought it? It turned out Mr. Cross was not just some regular Joe. It seemed like he came from a pretty fancy background. Why was he pretending to be a teacher at my school? I thought to myself, feeling puzzled.

“So, it's like having a five-star restaurant in your own home, huh,” I remarked dryly.

“That sounds about right,” he shamelessly concurred.

I rolled my eyes. "Where exactly is Mike at the moment?"

"The grocery store," he answered. "He has to replenish the supplies."

I nervously nibbled on my bottom lip. "Honestly, you did not need to go through all this trouble. Cereal or toast would have been perfectly fine for me," I confessed.

"I want you to be at ease and well fed. Unfortunately, breakfast options like cereal are loaded with sugar. And relying solely on toast for sustenance? Well, let's just say it won't do much to nourish your body."

“Aren’t you a substitute teacher? Stop talking like a dietitian,” I said through gritted teeth.

Mr. Cross let out a laugh before speaking. "Let’s eat, little one. Then freshen up with a shower."

I shifted my gaze towards him. In a pleasant surprise, I noticed that his attention was already fixed on me. His earlier hard gaze had a mellowed quality to it now.

“Thalia," he spoke softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please do not look at me with such sad eyes. I know I have a lot of explaining to do, and I will. But first, I need you to know that nothing happened between Grace and me last night.”

My heart skipped a beat when he said those words.

I just gave a slight nod and said, "Okay." I was not quite sure what else to add, but it seemed like Mr. Cross was not expecting any further input from me. He merely looked at me with relief.

As we began to dig into the delicious breakfast, I could not help but think about the stark contrast between our lives. While he woke up to a lavish spread. My mother would sometimes struggle to put food on the table.