Chapter 205 Thirty-Five Dollars and a Heart
Genesis slowly pushed herself up from the table he had pressed her against. Her brow furrowed, a faint frown settling over her delicate features as she turned to face him. He had already moved to the floor-to-ceiling glass window, staring down at the glowing city of New York.
His words spun around her head like a curse she couldn’t shake. She should knock before stepping into his office.
A small, broken chuckle slipped past her lips, but he didn’t turn to her. He just stood there—silent, cold, the glow of the city reflecting off his sharp frame—smoking, knowing exactly what that smell did to her.
Tears stung the back of her eyes. “Knock before stepping into your office,” she whispered under her breath, her voice trembling.
Her gaze drifted to the lunch box sitting on the table. She had bought it with the little money she’d earned—not his, not her father’s, but hers. It had taken her days to gather enough.
She owned her father’s company now, technically, but Monica had drained it dry. There wasn’t a cent she could use yet. She wanted to rebuild it one day—stronger, better—but right now, she just wanted to do something small, something human, something for him.
So she had gone to Mrs. Eliana and asked if there was any work she could do around the mansion. The older woman had been shocked—Mrs. Blackwood, working? But when Genesis explained she only needed a few dollars to buy something for her husband, and refused to take charity, Eliana had given her a job: helping with the market errands for three days.
It had sounded easy. It wasn’t.
The first day was the fish market—crowded, wet, loud. The smell of salt and smoke and raw fish clung to her until her head spun. People shoved past her, shouting prices, and she could barely keep up with Eliana. When a slippery catfish escaped a vendor’s hands and smacked her across the face, the entire row had erupted in laughter. Even Eliana couldn’t hold back her chuckle. Genesis had stood there, dripping fish water, her cheeks flaming.
The second day was the fruit and vegetable market. She carried heavy baskets of oranges, pineapples, and yams until her palms blistered and her arms trembled. She never complained once.
The third day was the spice and fabric market. The air was rich with curry and cinnamon, and the stalls shone in reds, golds, and deep blues. She’d smiled a little then, thinking maybe Knight would like that scent on her when she returned home. By the time Eliana handed her a small envelope of cash, Genesis’s hands were shaking—but her smile was pure joy.
Three days of work. All for one thing.
A simple black lunch box. Thirty-five dollars.
That was all she wanted—to give him something she earned, something that wasn’t bought with his money or his name. Something that quietly said I love you.
And now, he wouldn’t even look at it.
Her throat tightened. Her chest ached. He stood there, framed by the glass wall, smoke curling around his face, his reflection swallowed by the city lights below. He didn’t spare her a glance.
The silence was suffocating.
Genesis swallowed the lump in her throat. Her voice cracked as she whispered, “You didn’t even look at it…”
Her gaze dropped to the lunch box again. Her fingers trembled as she picked it up, holding it close to her chest.
“All you can say is that I should knock before stepping into your office,” she murmured bitterly.
Still, no response.
Her chest burned with anger and heartbreak. She turned toward the door, each step heavy, clutching the lunch box like a fragile piece of herself. Tears slipped silently down her cheeks, leaving hot trails on her skin.
Just as she reached the door, something caught her eye.
To her left, mounted in a glass case on the wall, was a baseball bat, signed and framed.
She paused, staring at it through blurry eyes.
For a moment, she almost turned around to leave. To walk out and pretend none of it mattered.
But then—something in her snapped.
She was tired.
Tired of being everyone’s foot mat.
Tired of surviving one hurt only to wake up to another.
Tired of swallowing everything down, pretending she was fine.
And then Genesis did the unthinkable—something Knight would never forget.
A small, trembling smile touched her lips as she let go of the lunchbox. It hit the floor with a dull thud. She didn’t care that the food inside might spill out. Why should she? He didn’t care either.
Her fingers curled around the glass case’s latch. She pulled it open and wrapped her hand around the bat, feeling the cold metal against her palm. When she turned, Knight was watching her now—his eyes flicking from the bat in her hand to the tears on her face.
“The great Kieran Blackwood,” she said bitterly, her voice shaking but fierce. “Or should I call you Knight? I don’t even know which one I’m dealing with right now, the womanizer or the psychopath.”
She smiled again, tears streaming freely as she took a slow step toward the glass door.
“This is the door I should knock on before I enter, right?”
He didn’t answer. He just stood there, leaning against the wall, his expression unreadable.
“Say something!” she screamed, and with all the rage that had built up in her chest, she swung the bat against the door.
The glass shattered instantly, crashing into a thousand glittering pieces.
Outside, Marcus and Lionel rushed in at once, drawn by the sound.
“What the hell?” Marcus shouted, eyes widening as he saw Genesis standing amid the shards, the bat gripped tight in her hands.
And just like that, chaos erupted, the pain of a mad heart finally unleashed.