The words landed harder than the slap.
The beggar lowered his eyes slowly, hiding the shock on his face.
Because in ten years of pretending to be powerful, respected, untouchable…
very few people had ever defended him without expecting something in return.
The guard’s face twisted with rage.
“You stupid girl,” he hissed. “Do you know whose house this is?”
“Yes,” she answered quietly.
“And I know kindness should live here too.”
The beggar looked at her carefully now.
Really looked at her.
Her maid uniform was faded from too many washes. One sleeve had been stitched by hand near the wrist. Her shoes were worn thin at the soles.
Poor.
Exhausted.
Yet standing there like she had more dignity than anyone behind those gates.
Inside the mansion balcony above them, several servants had quietly gathered to watch.
One whispered nervously,
“She’s finished…”
Another murmured,
“Mr. Kingston will fire her immediately if he finds out.”
But the maid still didn’t move.
The guard suddenly grabbed her arm violently.
“You think you’re special because you pity trash?”
The beggar’s expression changed instantly.
Cold.
Dangerously cold.
For one terrifying second, the security guard unknowingly stared into the real eyes of billionaire Alexander Kingston—the man whose signature controlled half the city’s real estate market.
And Alexander nearly broke character right there.
