Lena Carter woke up before her alarm.
The room was dark, and the city outside was quiet. Her chest already felt heavy. The ceiling had a long crack, a reminder of how long she had lived here.
She lay still for a moment, listening.
No voices. No laughter. Just the hum of the old fridge and the distant traffic.
Slowly, she sat up. Her apartment was small. The bedroom, living room, and kitchen were all in one space. The kitchenette was messy, with dishes she hadn't cleaned.
On the table were her bills. Electricity. Rent. Hospital fees from her mother's last visit. All stamped in red: OVERDUE.
Lena looked away.
"What am I going to do?" she whispered.
She pulled on her worn jeans and a faded sweater and tied her hair back. Her phone had no new messages. No one checked on her.
She grabbed a piece of dry bread and stepped outside. The morning air was cold, but she liked it. It reminded her she was still alive.
The café where she worked was fifteen minutes away. She walked to save money. Her shoes were old, but she ignored the discomfort.
Inside the café, the smell of coffee felt familiar.
"Morning, Lena," her coworker Maya said.
"Morning," Lena replied with a small smile.
The shift was busy. Orders piled up. Customers complained. Her feet hurt from standing. She worked quietly and quickly.
During her break, she went outside with a cup of water and counted the cash in her wallet. Not enough. It was never enough.
A group of well-dressed women walked by. One glanced at Lena's clothes and whispered to her friend, "People really live like this?"
They laughed.
Lena tightened her fingers around the cup. She stared ahead, pretending she didn't hear. But the words stung. They always did.
I never thought my life would be like this, she thought. She had dreams once. Big ones. She wanted to study, to travel, to live freely. Now her biggest dream was making it through the month.
Her break ended, and she went back inside. By the time her shift was over, the sky was dark, and exhaustion weighed on her.
She hurried down the street, eager to get home.
Then it happened.
She wasn't looking. Her shoulder hit something solid. The impact knocked the breath out of her. Coffee spilled, splashing onto expensive black fabric.
"Oh my God—I'm so sorry!" she gasped.
She looked up.
A man stood in front of her. Tall, broad-shouldered, in a perfect suit. Behind him was a sleek black car.
He said nothing at first. Lena's heart raced. I'm dead, she thought. People like him didn't forgive mistakes.
"I didn't see you," she rushed out. "I'll clean it—please, I didn't mean to—"
"Are you hurt?" he asked.
She blinked. "What?"
He looked at her, scanning her face, her hands, the way she stood.
"I asked if you're hurt," he said again.
"No," she said quickly. "I'm fine."
Most people would have yelled or demanded money. Not him. He straightened and looked at his car.
"Get in," he said.
Lena froze. "I… I can't. I have to go"
"You look like someone who hasn't eaten properly in days," he said softly.
Her throat tightened. He was right.
Before she could say more, the car door opened. Without fully understanding why, Lena stepped forward.
She didn't know it yet, but this moment—this simple collision—was the last ordinary moment of her life.
Just as Lena sat in the back seat, the man's phone rang. He answered.
A low, urgent voice whispered on the other end:
"She's the one. Don't let anyone touch her. Not even him."
Lena's heart skipped a beat. She glanced at him. He didn't flinch, didn't look surprised. But she saw the tiniest shadow cross his eyes a hint of worry.
And then, the car doors locked automatically.
Lena's breath caught. She had no idea who the voice was, or why someone wanted her… or what she had just stepped into.
The city lights blurred past the window. And in that moment, Lena realized her life would never be the same again.