CHAPTER ELEVEN-- NEW BEGINNINGS

Ella's POV

The morning sun streamed through my tiny apartment's windows, casting long shadows across the bare walls. One month of independence, and I still hadn't unpacked all my boxes. Maybe part of me was afraid to settle in, to make this escape feel permanent.

I adjusted my blazer in the mirror, smoothing down invisible wrinkles. The woman staring back at me looked different from the one who'd left Dave's house a month ago. Stronger, maybe. Or just more determined.

"You've got this," I whispered to my reflection. First day at Gregory's law firm as a paralegal. He'd offered me the job after seeing how thoroughly I'd documented Dave's indiscretions. "You're organized," he'd said. "Detail-oriented. We need someone like you."

The bus ride downtown felt like entering another world. No more luxury car with a driver, no more carefully curated image of the perfect corporate wife. Just me, my second hand laptop bag, and a determination to rebuild my life from scratch.

The law office occupied the twelfth floor of a glass-and-steel building. I stepped out of the elevator, heart hammering against my ribs. A familiar face greeted me at reception.

"Ella!" Marina, Gregory's assistant, wrapped me in a warm hug. "Ready for your first day?"

Before I could answer, voices drifted from the conference room. One in particular made my breath catch – deep, commanding, achingly familiar.

Collins.

I froze, watching through the glass walls as he shook hands with Gregory. Of course. Gregory handled most of Arma Industries' legal work. I should have anticipated this.

Collins turned, and our eyes met through the glass. His expression hardened instantly, jaw tightening as if the mere sight of me was an affront. The last time we'd seen each other had been... intense. That night at the family dinner, both of us raw from family drama. The way he'd looked at me then, with such burning dislike, a clear contrast to his heat filled look at the bar that ill-fated night – before he'd realized who I was and stormed out.

My skin tingled with the memory of his presence that night, how the air had crackled between us before everything went wrong. Even now, despite his obvious disdain, my body betrayed me with a shiver of awareness. He was devastating in a charcoal suit that emphasized his broad shoulders and lean strength. Power radiated from him, not just wealth but something more primal that made my pulse quicken traitorously.

I tore my gaze away, focusing on Marina's tour of the office. File room, break room, my new desk – all normal, professional things that shouldn't be overshadowed by Collins Arma's magnetic presence.

"Mrs. Scott." His cold voice stopped me as I settled at my desk. I looked up to find him standing there, hands in his pockets, expression glacial.

"It's Ms. Bronx now." Two could play that game.

Something unreadable flickered in his eyes. "Gregory didn't mention you'd be working here."

"Is that a problem, Mr. Arma?" I met his gaze steadily, even as my heart raced. Up close, his cologne teased my senses – something expensive and masculine that made me think of that night at the bar, how close we'd sat before everything imploded.

"That depends." His voice dropped lower, sending unwanted heat down my spine. "Are you here to actually work, or to dig up dirt on Dave?"

Anger flashed through me, hot and clarifying. "I earned this position, Mr. Arma. Unlike some people, I don't trade on family connections."

His eyes narrowed dangerously. We stood there in charged silence until Gregory appeared.

"Collins, we need to finish discussing the merger details." Gregory paused, noting the tension. "Is everything alright?"

"Fine." Collins withdrew a business card, laying it on my desk with precise movements. "My direct line. If Dave causes any... disturbances, call immediately. The family doesn't need more scandal."

The card felt like it was burning my fingers as I picked it up. His personal number was scrawled on the back in elegant handwriting. Not a gesture of kindness – a calculated move to protect the Arma name.

Well, he should have thought of that before getting into a brawl with Dave in the presence of their entire family.

The morning passed in a blur of training and paperwork. Around noon, my phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number: "Missing you, sweetheart. Nice outfit today. Blue suits you."

My blood ran cold. I was wearing blue.

Another buzz: "That law firm's in a rough neighborhood. Anything could happen to a pretty girl like you."

I deleted the messages with trembling fingers, but not before saving screenshots. Evidence, Gregory called it. Building a case for a restraining order.

I had blocked his number but, apparently, he had gotten a new line to continue bombarding me with messages and calls.

"Everything okay?" Marina appeared with lunch – a sandwich from the deli downstairs. "You look pale."

I forced a smile. "Just first-day nerves."

The afternoon brought more training, more paperwork, and three more texts from Dave. I ignored them all, focusing on learning the filing system, memorizing client names, proving I deserved this chance at a new life.

At five, Marina insisted on walking me to the bus stop. "It's getting dark early these days," she said casually, but her eyes scanned the street with purpose. Gregory must have warned her.

“I'll be fine, Marina,” I assured her and she flashed a tight smile, obviously still worried, before enveloping me in a hug.

“See you tomorrow, Ella.”

I hurriedly began making my way home, the text still lodged in my mind

I was almost home when I saw it – a black SUV with tinted windows, idling across from my building. My heart jumped into my throat. Dave's car. Had to be.

I ducked into the corner store, hands shaking as I pulled out my phone. The business card felt heavy in my pocket. I stared at Collins' number, remembering the electricity that had sparked between us at the bar before he'd discovered my identity. How different would things be if I wasn't Dave's soon-to-be ex-wife? If I wasn't the woman who'd supposedly been a gold digger and broken his nephew's heart?

If I wasn't someone he had disliked from the first day we met?

My fingers moved before I could second-guess myself.

Collins answered on the first ring. "Arma."

"It's... it's Ella." My voice sounded strange, distant. "I think Dave's outside my apartment."

The silence that followed crackled with tension. Then: "Stay where you are. I'm sending security."

"I don't need—"

"This isn't about you." His voice was sharp, controlled. "Dave's actions reflect on the family. We'll handle it."

Of course. Family reputation. I swallowed the irrational hurt. "Thank you, Mr. Arma."

"Ella." He paused, and I could almost feel him weighing his next words. "Be careful. Dave... he's not stable right now."

The concern in his voice, however reluctant, sent an unwanted warmth through my chest.

Twenty minutes later, a sleek car with Arma Industries plates pulled up. The driver – a woman built like a linebacker – stepped out, scanning the street with professional efficiency. The black SUV was gone.

"Ms. Bronx?" She opened the back door. "Mr. Arma asked me to ensure you get home safely."

I hesitated. Accepting help felt like admitting weakness, like proving Dave right about me needing him. But maybe true strength was knowing when to let others in – even if they offered that help grudgingly.

I got in the car.

The driver waited until I was safely inside my apartment before leaving. As I locked the door, my phone buzzed one last time: "Sweet dreams, sweetheart. I'll be watching."

I leaned against the wall, letting out a shaky breath. Then I straightened up, went to my laptop, and began documenting everything – times, dates, screenshots. I wasn't that scared girl anymore, the one who'd let Dave control her life through fear and manipulation.

I was building something new. Something mine. And no one – not Dave, not his threats, not even the complicated, unwanted attraction I felt toward Collins Arma – would stop me.

But as I got ready for bed, I couldn't stop thinking about how Collins had sounded on the phone. How quickly he'd responded. How his presence still affected me, even through his cold facade. I touched my lips, remembering how we'd kissed that night at the bar, how it felt to have him hold me as his desire took over. 

How it was unlike anything I'd ever felt with Dave who was the first man I'd slept with.

Dangerous thoughts. But then again, maybe I was tired of playing it safe.