“You go first,” he said. “I’ll come later.”
“Yes, Chairman.”
The assistant stepped back, returned to the car, and the black vehicle rolled away with quiet obedience.
Daniel began to walk, leaving the dusty wall as if leaving a costume behind.
He hadn’t gone far when a female voice stopped him.
“Daniel.”
He turned.
A young woman stood a few steps away, clutching her handbag close. Her eyes moved between his face and his clothes as if her brain couldn’t agree on which story was real.
She was beautiful in a quiet way—no loud makeup, no performance. Just calm features and gentle eyes that carried curiosity more than judgment.
Felicia Admy.
They’d attended the same school years ago, never close, never truly friends. But Daniel remembered her. She’d always stood out without trying, like a candle that didn’t need permission to be bright.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, voice low with confusion. “Why are you like this?”
Felicia swallowed, then rushed on as if she needed to explain her own presence. “I was called for a job at Dreamchasing Group. They said report immediately. Then I saw you and… I couldn’t believe it.”
She paused. “Daniel, why are you begging? You used to… people said you were building something.”
Daniel met her eyes. He could have ended the confusion with one sentence.
Instead, he chose the test.
“My business failed,” he said simply.
Felicia stared at him—at the bowl, at the worn slippers, at the calm in his face that didn’t match the story of failure.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, as if that was the only safe word left. “I wish you didn’t have to go through all this.”
She didn’t ask for proof. She didn’t pull out her phone. She didn’t perform pity.
Something in her refused to leave him on the street like a forgotten thing.
Daniel watched her closely. For a month he’d seen people toss coins like they were paying to feel superior. He’d seen mockery. He’d seen the way kindness evaporates when it can’t be posted online.
But Felicia’s concern wasn’t loud.
It was real.
And it unsettled him more than insults ever could.
He swallowed once. “Do you dislike me now?”
Felicia blinked, genuinely surprised. “Dislike you?” She shook her head. “Daniel, why would I dislike you because life hit you?”
She hesitated, then inhaled like she was stepping into a truth she’d kept folded for years.
“I always admired you,” she said. “You were quiet, but you carried yourself like someone with a plan. And I… I liked you. I just never thought you’d ever look in my direction.”
Street noise continued, but something inside Daniel went strangely silent.
A woman was standing in front of him, admitting admiration, while he looked like a man with nothing.
He’d heard sympathy for weeks. Fake concern. But this sounded honest enough to bruise.
“You don’t mind?” he asked carefully. “Even now?”
Felicia shook her head again, steadier. “If you will have me,” she said, “I don’t mind.”
Then, as if her body had made a decision before her brain finished thinking, she stepped closer and took his hand.
Warm. Firm. Protective.
People nearby turned to stare.
Two women by a kiosk whispered loudly on purpose, the way people whisper when they want the whole world to hear.
“That girl is very beautiful,” one said. “But her eyes are not good. She chose a beggar.”
The other laughed. “Maybe she doesn’t know what she’s doing.”
Felicia heard them. She stopped, still holding Daniel’s hand, and turned calmly.
“So what if he’s a beggar?” she said clearly. “I like him.”
The women blinked, surprised she didn’t fear their mouths.
Felicia continued, voice even. “Life can happen to anyone. It doesn’t mean they deserve to be mocked. Some of you are one bad day away from sitting where he sat. Be careful how you laugh.”
Their confidence shrank. One looked away. The other’s laugh came out thinner.
Felicia lifted her chin slightly. “We’re getting married soon,” she added, as if defending something she’d already claimed.
The women snorted again, but it lacked power now.
Felicia turned back and walked on, hand-in-hand with Daniel.
Daniel glanced down at their joined hands and felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time.
Not pride.
Not control.
Something like disbelief.
When they reached her apartment, the space greeted him with warmth. Small, clean, lived-in. The smell of fresh soap and a life held together by effort.
Daniel stood in the living room as if unsure where to place himself, like he didn’t want to dirty anything with his existence.
Felicia noticed and softened. “Sit,” she said, pointing to the couch. “You’re not a stranger here.”
Then, practical as kindness often is, she added, “You need to bathe. Use the bathroom. I’ll bring you a towel.”
She returned with a towel and clean slippers, then looked at him again with quiet resolve.
“Please,” she said. “Go wash up. I’ll go buy you clothes.”
Daniel’s brows lifted. “You’ll buy me clothes?”
“Yes,” she replied simply. “You can’t stay in those. And you’re the groom.”
“The groom?” he echoed.
Felicia nodded like it was already written somewhere. “You’re not walking out there looking like someone the world can spit on again.”
Before he could argue, she picked up her bag and left.
When the door clicked shut, Daniel’s expression changed just slightly. The helpless look stayed on his face, but his eyes sharpened into something else: command.
He pulled out a phone that didn’t match his outfit and made a call.
“It’s me,” he said.
On the other end, a voice straightened into respect. “Chairman.”
“I want a diamond crown purchased abroad,” Daniel said calmly. “The best. No delays. I want a legendary diamond gift. And transfer one property under the group’s Asia portfolio. Put it in Felicia Admy’s name.”
Silence, the kind that happens when money takes a breath.
“Understood, Chairman.”
Daniel’s gaze drifted, and Jessica Oafur’s face flashed in his memory like a bad taste.
Jessica had loved him when rumors said he’d be unstoppable. But when the company suffered a public crash and people whispered bankruptcy, she didn’t stay to fight. She didn’t ask questions.
She left like abandoning him was a business decision.
Now Daniel thought of Felicia standing in public, holding his hand, defending him when she believed he had nothing.
“Prepare everything,” Daniel said quietly. “The wedding will proceed. And when it happens… it will shock everyone.”
He ended the call, tucked the phone away, and stepped into the bathroom as if stepping back into a role.
The next day, Felicia returned with clothes: simple but expensive, the kind that whispers quality instead of shouting price.
“You didn’t have to,” Daniel said, touching the fabric.
“I wanted to,” she replied.
Then she reached into her handbag and pulled out a thick bundle wrapped neatly.
Daniel’s eyes lowered. He already knew what it was, but he still asked, because disbelief sometimes needs manners.
“What is this?”
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