Chapter 3

Ava felt a surge of exhilaration as she accepted the challenge. Sitting down, she let her hand move confidently over the page, allowing her creativity to flow unrestrained. She envisioned delicate lace, intricate beading, elegant silhouettes—every stroke of her pen breathing life into her vision. When she finally placed the pen down, her heart raced, but she felt a quiet pride in her work.

The hiring manager scrutinized her sketches, his gaze sharp and discerning. His eyes widened ever so slightly, a flicker of admiration breaking through his impassive exterior. He looked up, meeting Ava’s gaze with an approving nod. "Miss Ava," he said, a note of respect in his voice, "you’re hired."

Overwhelmed, Ava could hardly contain her joy as she thanked him. She left the building with her heart soaring, a sense of purpose blooming within her. She had taken her first step into a brighter future.

As she walked home, her thoughts were filled with plans for her new career, her future finally taking shape.

But fate had other plans. Out of nowhere, a speeding car veered dangerously close, the force of its passing wind knocking her off balance. She stumbled, her ankle twisting as she fell to the ground. Before she could even regain her bearings, she felt a sharp, dizzying pain, her vision darkening as unconsciousness claimed her.

Inside the car, Mr. George Harrington felt his heart drop. He had ordered his driver to stop the moment he saw the young woman fall, and he wasted no time in rushing to her side. Kneeling beside her, he gently shook her shoulder. "Are you alright, dear?" he asked, his tone uncharacteristically soft.

Ava stirred, her gaze unfocused as she tried to speak. "I… I’m fine, sir…" But the words slipped away, her strength fading as she drifted once more into darkness.

With a deep sense of responsibility, Mr. George ordered his driver to help him lift Ava into the car. He knew she needed immediate medical attention, and he was determined to ensure that she received the best care possible.

As they arrived at the hospital, Mr. George personally oversaw her admission, watching with worry as the doctors and nurses assessed her injuries. She was placed on a stretcher, carefully wheeled into an examination room. Mr. George sat in the sterile waiting area, feeling an unexplainable sense of connection to the young woman.

After what felt like an eternity, the doctor emerged, his face calm but serious. Mr. George rose to his feet, tension tightening in his chest.

"She’s suffered a mild concussion and some scrapes, but nothing serious," the doctor assured him. "We’ll keep her overnight for observation, but she should be able to go home tomorrow."

Relieved, Mr. George thanked the doctor and made arrangements for Ava’s stay, promising himself he would ensure her well-being.

As he lingered in the quiet corridors of the hospital, he found himself wondering about the strange twist of fate that had brought him into this young woman’s life—and whether their lives were destined to intertwine in ways he couldn’t yet comprehend.

The first rays of morning light filtered gently through the hospital window, casting a soft glow over Ava as she stirred, gradually waking from a dreamless sleep. Her body ached, a reminder of the accident, but her mind was clear. Blinking, she let her eyes adjust to the unfamiliar room, only to find, to her surprise, Mr. George Harrington seated quietly in a nearby chair. His gaze was warm and fixed upon her with unmistakable concern.

As their eyes met, Mr. George leaned forward, his voice soft and kind. "How are you feeling, Ava?" he asked, his tone carrying the genuine compassion of a man unaccustomed to witnessing suffering so intimately.

Ava hesitated, her thoughts racing to piece together the fragments of the previous day. She remembered the job interview, the exhilarating triumph of being hired, the rush of joy that had filled her heart—only to be followed by the screech of tires, the blinding pain, and then... darkness. Her brow furrowed slightly as she looked back at Mr. Harrington, wondering how this stranger had come to know her name and why he had stayed by her side.

"I'm... I'm alright, thank you," Ava replied, still disoriented. She shifted slightly, wincing at the ache in her muscles. "I just... I can't believe you're here. And that you've done all this... for me."

Mr. George’s mouth softened into a smile, the lines around his eyes deepening with an unexpected warmth. "It's the least I could do, Ava," he said simply. "After what happened on the road, I felt a responsibility for your well-being. It wouldn't sit right with me otherwise."

As Ava listened, her initial apprehension melted away, replaced by a growing admiration for the man before her. This was not the cold, distant businessman she had imagined.

He was kind, even protective, a man who had looked beyond the immediate inconvenience of the accident to see her as a person. Perhaps, she thought with a hint of wonder, there was more to Mr. George Harrington than she’d ever assumed.

Her relief, however, was short-lived. The memories of her life beyond this hospital bed came flooding back—the tiny home she shared with her mother, the hard-won job she’d only just landed. Her stomach twisted with worry, and she sat up, ignoring the painful protest of her limbs.

"I have to leave now, sir," she said, urgency and determination woven into her voice. "I have a job to get to this morning. They’re counting on me, and I can’t afford to lose this opportunity."

Mr. George studied her carefully, concerned mingling with admiration as he took in her resolute expression. "Ava," he began gently, his voice firm but kind, "you need to rest. You’re still recovering, and your health and well-being are more important than any job."

Ava’s pulse quickened with panic, and she shook her head, her voice laced with desperation. "Please, sir, you don’t understand. I just started this job, and it’s everything I’ve worked for. I can’t lose it; there are people who depend on me."

Mr. George’s expression softened as he listened to her plea, and he considered her words with the thoughtfulness of a father hearing his child’s deepest worries.

He nodded slowly, understanding her fierce dedication. "I see how important this is to you, Ava," he said, his tone unwavering but compassionate. "But sometimes, taking care of yourself comes first. If, by some chance, you do lose this job, I promise—I will help you find another, one that suits your talent and ambition."

Ava opened her mouth to protest, but she knew he wasn’t easily swayed. Resigned, she took a steadying breath, trying to gather her thoughts. She glanced down, searching for the right words, before finally looking back at Mr. George, her eyes steady with a quiet plea. "If I can’t leave just yet, then I have a favor to ask."

Mr. George leaned in slightly, his focus entirely on her. "Of course, Ava," he said, his tone gentle but attentive. "What do you need?"

Ava’s face softened, and a glimmer of gratitude shone in her eyes as she thought of her adoptive mother—the woman who had taken her in, given her a home, and become the family she had never known.

"My mother… she doesn’t know where I am," she explained, her voice catching slightly. "She’ll be worried sick by now. Could you go to her, tell her what happened, and bring her here? I don’t have a phone to contact her myself."

Mr. George’s expression warmed, and he nodded with understanding. "Of course, Ava. I’ll go to her at once. You have my word."

He took her address and rose to leave, signaling his driver with a brisk nod. As he reached the door, he paused, glancing back at Ava with an expression of respect and something deeper—a realization, perhaps, that this young woman was more than just an accident victim or a stranger; she was someone remarkable. For the first time, he wondered if their paths hadn’t crossed by mere coincidence but by some twist of fate.

As Mr. George’s car pulled away from the hospital, he found himself lost in thought, contemplating the sense of kinship he felt toward this brave young woman. Despite her struggles, Ava had met the world with dignity and resilience—a rare strength that stirred something dormant in his own heart.

When he arrived at the small, modest house Ava had described, he was greeted by a woman whose worried expression softened only slightly at the sight of him. Introducing himself with a quiet dignity, Mr. George explained the events that had brought him here, his words carefully chosen to convey both the gravity of the situation and the care he had taken for Ava’s well-being.

Ava’s mother, her eyes brimming with relief, immediately agreed to accompany him back to the hospital. She gathered her things quickly, not wasting a moment.

As they drove, she listened intently as Mr. George spoke about Ava, recounting the young woman’s determination and strength in a way that filled her mother’s heart with both pride and gratitude.