Swallowing Pride

Sienna leaned back against the faded, scratchy fabric of her rented sofa. The harsh glare of her phone screen illuminated the cracked plaster of her cheap apartment wall, casting a cold, mocking smile onto her lips. Hazel’s message stared back at her—a candid, blurry shot of Roman Knox standing in the middle of a sprawling, state-of-the-art kitchen. He looked tense and rigid, holding a spatula like it was a foreign weapon, glaring down at a wooden cutting board in pure confusion.

A bitter laugh escaped Sienna’s throat, loud in the quiet room. Back when they were married, she had poured her heart and soul into catering to his every whim. If he mentioned a fleeting craving at two in the morning, she would drag herself out of bed, braving the freezing tiles to whip up a hot meal from scratch. Not once had he ever offered to help. Not once had he ever stepped foot in that kitchen for her.

Yet here he was. Roman Knox, a billionaire who commanded boardrooms and dictated the local economy, earnestly trying to cook for a little girl he had known for less than twenty-four hours.

She locked the phone screen, tossing the device onto the scratched coffee table. The realization stung. He had always been capable of making an effort; she just had never been worth it to him. Still, a sliver of solace settled deep in her chest. At least his ruthless, cold-blooded streak did not extend to their daughter. He was treating Hazel infinitely better than he had ever treated her.

Back at Onyx Bay Villa, Hazel sat perched on her booster seat, eyeing the grand dining table with undisguised horror. The fine porcelain plates displayed several unidentifiable, charred lumps of meat that leaked a greasy, dark fluid onto the expensive placemats. A harsh burning smell lingered in the air, overpowering the scent of fresh flowers in the room.

Quietly, the little girl slid the small tin of cookies Sienna had baked earlier right to the edge of her plate.

"I am not very hungry anymore, Daddy," Hazel announced, her voice sweet and cautious. "I will just eat these."

Roman stood over the table, wiping his hands on a linen towel. He stared at the tiny, peanut-sized cookies. His brow furrowed in deep dissatisfaction. "Is that enough?"

Hazel nodded eagerly, her small hands defensively covering her little tin. She cast another terrified glance at the black lumps. "I am just a kid. My tummy is very small! This is more than enough."

Roman caught the flash of fear in her eyes when she looked at his cooking. A muscle ticked in his strong jaw. He tossed the towel onto a nearby chair, a trace of quiet irritation settling over his features, though he did not force the issue.

Within minutes, Hazel happily munched down the last of the sweet biscuits. She brushed the crumbs off her hands, offering him a bright, innocent smile. "Daddy, I am ready for my nap now!"

Roman scooped her up into his arms, carrying her light frame up the grand staircase.

In the soft, pink-hued bedroom, he tucked the plush duvet around her shoulders. Hazel wiggled against the pillows, her large, dewy eyes looking up at him expectantly.

"I want to listen to the story of the little mermaid," she demanded softly. "Daddy, are you good at telling stories?"

Roman pulled up a velvet chair beside the bed and picked up the glossy fairy tale book resting on the nightstand. "Maybe."

He opened to the first page. Clearing his throat, he began reading. "A long time ago, there was a sea, and a group of beautiful mermaids lived in the sea."

His deep, stern voice echoed in the quiet room. It sounded less like a magical bedtime story and more like a grim corporate earnings report.

"Daddy." Hazel poked her head out from under the covers. "You sound so fierce!"

Roman paused, his long fingers tightening on the edge of the hardcover book. He took a steadying breath, trying to soften his tone, dropping the harsh bass of his usual commanding voice. "One day... a little mermaid..."

"Daddy, do you not know how to tell stories?"

The little girl flattened her lips, her big eyes brimming with sudden grievance. "Hazel’s Daddy is so powerful, but he cannot even tell a story..."

Roman snapped the book shut. "Let’s not listen to stories. Just go to sleep, okay?"

"Not okay."

The dam broke. Fat tears rolled down the little girl’s flushed cheeks, soaking into the pristine white pillowcase. "If I do not listen to a story, I will get nightmares!"

Hearing her loud sobs, the icy armor around Roman’s heart melted into a puddle. He leaned forward, his large hand gently ruffling her soft, dark hair.

"I remember your mother did not like to cry," he murmured, his voice softening into a genuine, teasing whisper. "This bad habit of yours, crying so easily... who did you get it from?"

Hazel sniffled, pushing her bottom lip out in a stubborn pout. "Mommy likes to cry too."

Roman’s hand stilled.

"When I was younger," Hazel continued, wiping her wet cheeks with the back of her small hand, "every time I woke up in the middle of the night, I would see Mommy secretly wiping away her tears in the dark."

The childish, innocent words struck Roman like a physical blow to the chest. The air vanished from his lungs. He stared down at his daughter in a daze, a sudden, heavy pressure wrapping around his throat.

"Your mother..." His voice came out raspy, stripped of its usual unshakable authority. "Does she cry often?"

Hazel nodded earnestly. "Yeah." She paused, her little brows knitting together as she studied his stony, unreadable expression. "But since Daddy said Mommy did not like to cry, maybe you are right. Maybe my bad habit of crying so easily is inherited from you, Daddy."

Roman let out a hollow, humorless sound. "Daddy never cries."

Hazel leaned back against the headboard, her small fingers wringing the edge of her blanket. She bit her lip, hesitating for a long moment before looking up into his dark, brooding eyes. "When Mommy left Daddy... did you not even cry then?"

Roman’s entire body stiffened. A cold, suffocating silence descended over the bedroom. The innocent question dug into old, unspoken wounds, ripping past the carefully constructed walls he had built over the past years. He stared down at her, his jaw locked tight, evading the painful inquiry.

He stood up abruptly, the chair scraping harshly against the hardwood floor. "Go to sleep. I still have some work to do."

Hazel clutched the blanket tighter. "But Daddy..."

"Be good," Roman commanded in a clipped, indifferent tone. He turned his back to the bed and walked toward the door. "Daddy will find the right person to take care of you."

He stepped out into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind him without looking back.

By noon the next day, the small rented apartment smelled of warm rice and simple vegetables. Sienna set down a plate for Nash, though her own stomach remained tied in knots. She had zero appetite. Even though Hazel had managed to sneak a few text messages confirming she was fine, it was the very first time her daughter had slept away from her side. The lingering anxiety gnawed at her.

Nash finished his lunch quickly. He hopped down from his chair, grabbing his small backpack. "Mommy, Auntie Harper is waiting for me downstairs. I am going to school now!"

Sienna offered a tired smile and walked him to the door. Nash had always been too smart for his own good. Before they had even returned to the country, he had enrolled himself in an advanced programming class designed for gifted children. The learning center was located just two blocks away from Harper’s hospital, making it easy for her friend to drop him off on the way to her shift.

Watching him head down the stairs, Sienna felt a wave of relief. Nash was safe with Harper. The two women had survived life-and-death situations together; there was no one she trusted more in this city.

She shut the door, walked back into the cramped kitchen, and meticulously cleared away the dirty dishes. The rhythmic sound of running water did little to soothe her tense nerves.

Just as she placed the last clean plate onto the drying rack, the doorbell rang sharply.

Sienna wiped her wet hands on a towel, frowning at the wooden door. She had only moved into this place yesterday. No one knew she lived here except Harper. Did Nash forget his notebook again?

A heavy sigh escaped her lips. "When will you learn to double-check your bag before..."

She swung the door open, the complaint dying instantly on her tongue. Her feet rooted to the floor.

Roman Knox stood outside in the damp, dimly lit corridor.

He wore a tailored gray windbreaker that screamed wealth, his broad shoulders dominating the narrow space. The peeling green paint of the hallway walls and the faint, lingering smell of mildew stood in stark contrast to his pristine, commanding presence. He looked aloof, yet surprisingly calm, stripped of the domineering aggression he had displayed yesterday at the villa.

"Hello."

Roman’s gaze swept over her casual clothes. His brow furrowed deeply as he took in the uncomfortable, cheap environment surrounding them. The suffocating atmosphere of the tight corridor made him tense. "Ms. Sienna. I would like to have a chat with you. Can we talk inside?"

Sienna recovered from her shock. Her expression cooled. She took half a step forward and firmly crossed her arms over her chest, effectively blocking the doorway. "No."

She held her ground, staring straight into his dark eyes. "Mr. Knox, whatever you have to say, you can say it right here."

Roman stared at her, waiting for her to step aside. She did not flinch.

"I am a single woman," Sienna stated boldly, her voice echoing slightly in the quiet stairwell. "I think it is much better for you not to come in, just in case you try to accuse me again of plotting against you or trying to seduce you."

Roman’s eyebrows snapped together in sheer disbelief.

No one spoke to him like this. Ever. Let alone a mere maid who had practically begged for a job caring for his daughter just a day ago. The sheer disrespect rolling off her tongue would usually be enough for him to turn on his heel, walk away, and ensure she never found employment in Alden City again.

He opened his mouth to put her in her place.

But then, the image of Hazel’s tear-streaked face flashed behind his eyes. He heard the little girl’s broken sobs. He remembered how she had cried for this exact woman.

Roman ground his teeth. He forced the bitter pill of his immense pride down his throat, muscles trembling slightly with the effort of holding his temper in check. He smoothed out his features, masking his frustration behind a wall of cold indifference.

His dark eyes locked onto hers.

"Sienna," Roman stated indifferently. "You have been hired. From now on, you will continue taking care of Hazel’s daily life."