The scorching sun beat down on the sprawling construction site of the Dutt Group, where Quinn Thorne wiped the gritty mixture of sweat and cement from his brow. For six long years, his life had been defined by the repetitive rhythm of stacking bricks and hauling heavy loads, a far cry from his days as a club waiter. His hands, once soft, were now calloused and scarred, yet he worked without complaint. Every cent he earned was funneled into the rising medical bills of his foster mother, the only woman who had ever truly cared for him. His life was a silent sacrifice, hidden beneath layers of dust and the relentless noise of machinery, fueled by a single, fading memory of a night that had changed everything.
That night six years ago remained a blur of neon lights and frantic shadows. While working at an upscale club, Quinn had stumbled upon Sera Dutt, the icy heiress of the city’s most powerful conglomerate, struggling against the effects of a potent drug. He didn't know her status then; he only saw a woman in desperate need. In her feverish state, she had clung to him, and in the chaos of their encounter, she had accidentally broken his jade necklace—a humble heirloom—taking half of it as a subconscious token of her gratitude and a promise of reunion. She disappeared before dawn, leaving him with a lingering scent of jasmine and a heart full of unanswerable questions.
Back at the construction site, the air was thick with the mockery of his coworkers. "Hey, Quinn! Still saving up for a wife who doesn't exist?" jeered Big Dave, leaning against a stack of steel beams. The men laughed, their crude jokes echoing across the skeletal frame of the rising skyscraper. They saw Quinn as a lowly laborer, a man with no prospects and no past, oblivious to the fact that he was the silent architect of his own endurance. Quinn ignored them, his fingers instinctively reaching for the jagged half of the jade pendant hanging beneath his grime-streaked shirt. He didn't need their approval; he only needed to survive another shift to afford the next round of his mother’s treatment.
Suddenly, a fleet of black luxury sedans pulled up to the site, kicking up clouds of orange dust. The atmosphere shifted instantly from rowdy banter to hushed reverence as Sera Dutt stepped out, looking every bit the "Goddess of Urban Business." She was accompanied by a small, spirited girl of about five, whose eyes sparkled with a curiosity that seemed out of place in such a bleak environment. The foreman scrambled to greet them, bowing low, but Sera’s gaze was distant, scanning the site with a professional coldness. She was here to inspect the progress of her flagship project, yet there was a hidden restlessness in her eyes that suggested she was looking for something more than just concrete.
As the entourage moved through the site, the little girl, Lila, suddenly broke away from her mother’s side. She had spotted something—or someone. Before the guards could react, she sprinted toward Quinn, who was currently hoisting a heavy bucket of mortar. He froze as the child skidded to a halt in front of him, her tiny hands pointing at his chest. "Daddy! It's you! You have the other piece!" she squealed, her voice ringing out with a clarity that silenced the entire construction crew. Quinn’s heart hammered against his ribs as he looked down at the child, then up to meet the stunned, wide-eyed gaze of Sera Dutt, who had frozen mid-step.
Sera approached slowly, the clicking of her designer heels a sharp contrast to the dull thud of falling bricks. Her breath hitched as she saw the jagged jade piece hanging from Quinn’s neck, matching the one she had kept in a velvet box for six years. The "Goddess" who ruled the city with an iron fist suddenly looked vulnerable, her composure shattering like glass. She looked at Quinn—the man she had spent years searching for, the man who had saved her when she was at her lowest, now standing before her in the rags of a common laborer. The realization hit her with the force of a tidal wave; her savior hadn't been a prince, but a man of incredible, silent strength.
"Quinn Thorne," she whispered, her voice trembling with an emotion that the workers had never heard from her. "I have searched every corner of this city for the owner of this jade." The coworkers who had just been mocking him stood paralyzed, their mouths agape as they realized the "loser" they bullied was being addressed with such reverence by the most powerful woman in the region. Sera didn't care about the mud on his boots or the dust on his face. She saw the soul of the man who had protected her without expectation, and she saw the father of her daughter, who had instinctively recognized his own blood through a simple stone.
In a move that would become the legend of the city’s urban folklore, Sera Dutt did not ask for an explanation or offer a reward. Instead, she took a step forward, ignored the grime, and took Quinn’s calloused hands in her own. "You have spent six years building walls for others, Quinn. It is time you let me build a home for you," she said, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "I don't want a reward, and I don't want a debt paid. I want you. Quinn Thorne, will you leave this site and become my husband?" The proposal hung in the air, a beautiful defiance of social status, as the bricklayer and the goddess stood united by a broken piece of jade.
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