Chapter 2: Unmasking
The next morning, the city buzzed to life beneath a gray sky, clouds threatening another downpour. Lily stood behind her makeshift stall on the corner of Lexington and 54th, arranging roses into glass jars like they were treasures. She still hadn't shaken the memory of the man from yesterday — the stranger with a kind smile and sad eyes.
He'd looked like a Wall Street type, sure. But there was something more. Something… lonely.
She shook her head. "Stop daydreaming, Lily," she muttered. "Dreams don't pay rent."
Still, she found herself glancing toward the Willard building more than once that morning.
---
Across the street, Jason sat in the back seat of his Maybach, watching her through tinted windows.
He'd meant to drive straight to a breakfast meeting, but he'd told the driver to stop two blocks early. And now, like some deranged billionaire cliché, he was watching the flower girl who didn't know who he was.
Why was he here?
Because her laughter, brief as it was, had felt more real than the applause he got at shareholders' meetings.
He rolled down the window slightly. Her voice carried over faintly.
"Daisies today — two dollars! Still smiling, even after the rain!"
Jason smiled to himself. He wasn't sure if it was charming or insane, but he needed to talk to her again.
---
Lily spotted him before he crossed the street. Same eyes. Same dark, rain-dried hair. But this time in a clean navy blazer over a simple gray T-shirt.
"You again?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Jason tucked his hands into his pockets, suddenly sheepish. "Morning."
"Did the daisy survive?" she asked.
"It's in a whiskey glass on my desk. Looks noble."
Lily chuckled. "Noble's a good word for something bent but still standing."
Jason looked at her. "You always talk like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like… poetry trying to pretend it's sarcasm."
She froze. That was too perceptive.
"Maybe," she said. "You want another flower or just stalking me now?"
He grinned. "Can I buy coffee instead?"
Lily blinked. "What?"
"There's a diner across the street. Best pancakes in Midtown. My treat."
Lily hesitated. She didn't even know this guy's name. And he was dressed like he could buy the entire block.
But something about him — calm but distant, warm but guarded — made her nod.
"Okay," she said. "But I pick the table."
"Deal."
---
The diner smelled like syrup and old jazz. They sat in a corner booth, opposite a window misted with steam. Jason ordered black coffee and pancakes. Lily, ever cautious, just asked for tea.
"So…" she said, stirring sugar. "You never told me your name."
Jason hesitated.
Then: "Jay."
She narrowed her eyes. "Just Jay?"
"For now."
Lily tilted her head, smiling faintly. "Okay, Jay. What do you do?"
"I… run things," he said. "Lots of meetings. Paperwork. Boring stuff."
She nodded slowly. "And you hang out in the rain helping flower girls to escape the boredom?"
"Something like that."
He wanted to tell her. He almost did. But for once, he wanted to be seen without the name — just the person underneath.
She leaned back, studying him. "You don't talk like a corporate robot. You listen."
"I try."
They talked for an hour. About music. Her favorite book. His childhood summers in Maine. He never mentioned the billions. She never asked.
And when he walked her back to the stall and slipped another ten into her jar, she smiled.
"You're weird, Jay. But I like weird."
Jason walked away, heart pounding again. Behind him, Lily turned back to her flowers, humming softly.
She still didn't know he was Jason Willard, tech mogul and heir to one of the country's largest fortunes.
And he wasn't sure what scared him more — telling her the truth…
…or losing the one person who liked him before she knew it.