My Garden 4

I spent the next few days trying to convince myself that Alexander Kane was nothing more than an arrogant businessman playing games. Yet no matter how hard I tried, his words lingered, trailing me like the scent of my tulips—subtle but impossible to ignore.

The problem wasn’t just him. It was everything else, too. The universe seemed hell-bent on testing my resolve, throwing complication after complication my way. It all started with a phone call.

"Miss Sophia, we need to talk."

I recognized the voice immediately—Mr. Langley, the manager of the property I leased for the shop. My stomach churned as I held the phone tighter. "What is it, Mr. Langley?"

"Unfortunately," he began, his tone uncharacteristically hesitant, "the building's new owner is making changes. They plan to increase rents across the board. I'm sorry, Sophia, but your lease will be affected starting next month."

I froze. An increase? I was barely making ends meet as it was. Raising the rent could crush me.

"Wait," I said, forcing myself to sound calm. "How much of an increase are we talking about?"

He hesitated, which only made my heart race faster. Finally, he sighed. "Thirty percent."

The air seemed to leave the room. Thirty percent? That was more than I could ever afford.

"Mr. Langley, you know I can’t manage that," I said, my voice rising. "Isn’t there something you can do? I’ve been a loyal tenant for years."

"I understand, and I wish I could help," he replied, sounding genuinely regretful. "But my hands are tied. The new owner has made it clear this isn’t negotiable."

I hung up, my hands trembling. My little shop—my pride, my passion, my livelihood—was suddenly under threat. The idea of losing it made my chest ache. I spent that evening pacing the tiny space, trying to think of a solution. But my mind kept circling back to Alexander and his ridiculous offer.

The thought made me furious. How dare he plant himself in my life, stirring up emotions and ideas I didn’t want to entertain? And now, as if the universe were conspiring against me, here I was, desperate and out of options.

It didn’t help that everywhere I went, I seemed to stumble across reminders of him. A glossy magazine on a café table featured his face on the cover, a bold headline reading: *The Man Behind the Empire.* At the grocery store, I overheard two women talking about his latest charitable donation, describing him as "a man with a heart of gold."

If only they knew.

That night, I sat in my little apartment, staring at the blank page of my notebook, trying to brainstorm ways to save the shop. But my thoughts kept slipping back to him. His offer. His words. His unrelenting presence in my life.

I hated how he’d wormed his way into my head, making me question everything. Was he serious about wanting to understand me, or was this just another power play? And why did I even care?

Sleep didn’t come easily that night. When it finally did, it was restless, filled with dreams of tulips wilting in the heat of the sun, their petals falling away one by one.

The next morning, I woke up feeling more determined than ever. I wasn’t going to let Alexander Kane—or anyone else—dictate my life. I was Sophia Grayson, a fighter, a survivor. I had built this shop from the ground up, and I wasn’t going to let some rent increase or a billionaire's meddling take it away from me.

But just as I was steeling myself for another day, my phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.

**Unknown:** *Sophia, it’s Alexander. I’d like to discuss something with you. No pressure, but I believe it could help both of us.*

I stared at the screen, my chest tightening. How had he even gotten my number? And why couldn’t he just leave me alone?

I was about to delete the message when another one came through.

**Unknown:** *Before you ignore this, please hear me out. I’m not trying to manipulate you. I just want to help.*

Help? The word felt hollow coming from him. But as much as I wanted to dismiss it, I couldn’t ignore the tiny voice in the back of my mind whispering, *What if he’s genuine? What if this is the solution you need?*

Shaking my head, I stuffed the phone into my bag and headed to the shop, determined to bury myself in work. But even as I arranged bouquets and greeted customers with forced cheer, his message haunted me.

By mid-afternoon, I was exhausted—physically, mentally, emotionally. When the bell above the door jingled, I barely looked up, expecting another customer.

But it wasn’t just another customer. It was *him*.

Alexander Kane stood in the doorway, his presence filling the space in a way that made it feel both too small and too large at once. He looked different today—less polished, more... human. His tie was loosened, his jacket slung over one arm, and there was a hint of weariness in his eyes.

I didn’t bother hiding my irritation. "What are you doing here?"

He stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "I didn’t think you’d respond to my messages, so I came to speak to you in person."

I crossed my arms, refusing to let him see how much his presence unsettled me. "I’m not interested in whatever you have to say."

He hesitated, as if choosing his words carefully. "I know about the rent increase," he said finally.

My stomach dropped. "How do you know about that?"

"I have my ways," he admitted, his tone softer than I expected. "Sophia, I’m not here to pressure you into anything. But I want you to know that my offer still stands. I can help you keep this place."

The audacity of him, swooping in like some kind of savior. "You think I need your charity?" I snapped, my voice rising. "I’ve built this shop with my own two hands. I don’t need your money, and I certainly don’t need your help."

He didn’t flinch, though his jaw tightened. "It’s not charity. It’s an opportunity. And it’s not just about the flowers, Sophia. It’s about you. I see something in you—your strength, your passion—and I believe in it. All I’m asking is that you give me a chance to prove that I’m not the villain you think I am."

I stared at him, my emotions a whirlwind of anger, confusion, and something else I couldn’t name. He was frustrating, infuriating, and yet... there was a part of me that wanted to believe him.

But could I?

"I need time," I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, his expression softening. "Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere."

And with that, he left, leaving me alone with my thoughts—and a decision I wasn’t ready to make.