CHAPTER 5
Helisa’s POV:
The hum of the electric motor was a steady, rhythmic purr beneath my designer trainers, a sharp contrast to the absolute silence of the upper atmosphere.
Six o'clock in the morning in Manhattan didn't arrive with the casual, slow awakening of the outer boroughs; it broke over the floor-to-ceiling penthouse glass like a sudden sheet of cold, uncompromising neon.
From the forty-second floor overlooking the pristine, manicured green rectangle of Central Park, the world below looked less like a neighborhood and more like a high-stakes chessboard waiting for its first definitive opening move.
And I was always the one to dictate the white pieces.
My lungs burned with a beautiful, cold precision.
Sweat, clean and devoid of the cheap processed sugars that plagued lesser, undisciplined diets, gathered along the sharp line of my collarbone, trickling down the front of my high-performance compression top.
I didn't run to look good for a single season; I ran because E-Tech Corp required an absolute iron fortress at its helm, and that fortress started with my own connective tissue.
Physical weakness was a luxury I couldn't afford when five hundred employees depended on the clarity of my executive decisions.
The heavy, soundproofed oak door of the private elevator foyer chimed—a soft, melodic sequence that signaled the arrival of the only person in New York City allowed to see me before my morning armor was fully bolted on.
Naomi stepped into the wide, minimalist expanse of the living room, dropping her designer canvas tote bag onto the polished marble bench by the entrance with the heavy, unbothered thud of a woman who owned every room she occupied.
She didn't check her phone. She didn't look at the pristine view.
She just took a deep breath, adjusted her hand-knit cardigan, and walked toward my fitness alcove like a sergeant major inspecting a recruit.
"I see you’re getting it in, child," Naomi observed, a wide, slow smile breaking across her seasoned face as she reached the edge of my rubber matting.
"Yeah... morning, Ms. Naomi," I managed to say, my breath measured, my eyes never leaving the digital display tracking my caloric expenditure.
"I think I need a tuna sandwich this morning...
and probably a bowl of cereal. The Frosted Flakes that I like.
The ones behind the organic granola. Don't try to substitute it with that cardboard bran stuff either. "
I began tapping the digital console, slowly bringing the treadmill down from a sprint to a smooth, decelerating jog, then to a walking pace.
As the belt ground to a halt, I dismounted, my calves tight and vibrating with residual power.
I wrapped my arms around Naomi’s shoulders, pulling her into a tight, genuine embrace.
She smelled of cocoa butter, lavender water, and the sharp, clean scent of the early morning train from the Bronx.
She wasn't just my housekeeper; she was the anchor that kept my multi-billion-dollar reality from floating away into the stratosphere of corporate detachment.
"As you wish, my dear," Naomi muttered into my shoulder, her embrace warm, thick, and maternal.
She patted my back with a heavy hand before pulling away just enough to look up at my face.
"Did you sleep well last night, Helisa? Or was you up staring at them digital screens until your eyes turned red again? "
"I slept... enough," I replied, grabbing the white hand towel resting on the handrail to wipe the moisture from my neck.
Before I could react, Naomi’s fingers flicked out with lightning speed. She smashed her thumb down onto the 'Quick Start' button on the console, slamming the speed indicator straight up to a level ten. The rubber belt roared back to life with a violent screech.
"Oh c’mon! That’s cheating!" I gasped, my eyes widening in sheer panic as my feet scrambled back onto the moving surface.
I broke from the embrace instantly, my long legs pumping furiously as I went from a standing position straight into a high-stakes, life-or-death sprint just to keep from being launched into the glass balcony doors behind me.
"Put in that work, baby!" Naomi laughed, a deep, belly-shaking sound that filled the high ceilings of the penthouse.
She stepped back, crossing her arms over her ample chest, watching me fight for my life on the rubber track.
"Gotta look well-trimmed for the summer, honey!
Can't have the CEO of the future looking like she missed a day at the factory! Run, girl, run!"
I let out a breathless, sharp laugh, my chest heaving as I matched the brutal pace of the machine. "You always messing around... every single morning, Naomi! One of these days I'm going to pull a hamstring, and my corporate lawyers will come after you!"
"Please, them little suit-and-tie boys can't handle the Bronx," Naomi quipped, her eyes scanning the pristine kitchen island before drifting back to me.
She sniffed the air suddenly, her nose wrinkling up with a sharp, suspicious curiosity that always spelled trouble.
"And why the hell does it smell like you had a man up in here last night?
Don't think my old nose can't pick up a change in the atmosphere, Helisa.
It smell like luxury and secrets in this living room. "
I nearly missed a step on the belt, my sneaker catching the edge of the plastic casing before I stabilized my stride.
"You know damn well I didn't have anyone up here, Naomi.
But that silk robe you gifted me for my birthday?
The crimson one? It felt amazing. I actually wore it last night while I was going over the Tokyo shipping manifests. "
Naomi stopped dead in her tracks, her hand hovering over the zipper of her duffel bag where she kept her freshly laundered work clothes. "Wait... for real? You wore the good silk?"
"Yeah," I nodded, my breathing settling into the high-velocity rhythm of the sprint. "It’s the most comfortable thing in this entire apartment. Better than any of the Italian brands I buy myself."
"Mmm. Too bad you had no one to show it off to," Naomi said, her tone suddenly shifting from playful to that heavy, somber frequency she used whenever she felt I was sacrificing my youth on the altar of capitalism. She pulled out her crisp white apron and shook it out with a loud thwack. "When are you going to stop all that work and live a little, child? You’re young, you’re beautiful, you got more money than the bank itself, and you should be out here dating.
You are absolutely killing me with this single life, Helisa. For real. My spirit is vexed."
I kept my gaze fixed ahead, but the weight of her words settled into my chest. It was an old argument, but it never lost its teeth.
"I’m dying to see you up in here having some real fun with a man," Naomi continued, her hood tonality thickening as her passion rose, her Bronx roots fully on display. "Making jokes, playing music, acting silly while I’m back there in the kitchen cooking up a big old pot of food for the both of you. I’m out here dying to see that flat little tummy of yours grow big with a child, honey!
I want to be called an auntie or something before my knees give out completely and I gotta use a walker.
Sweet Jesus, Helisa... if this continues, you gonna have cobwebs growing right between your thighs! "
The absolute bluntness of her words made me chuckle, but I knew she meant it from the deepest corner of her heart.
She had watched me build E-Tech from a three-person operation in a dusty incubator space into a global predator, but she had also watched my personal life evaporate into nothing but calendar invites and nondisclosure agreements.
Truth be told, I was tired of the isolation too.
The silence of the penthouse at two in the morning could get so loud it made my ears ring, and no amount of market dominance could warm the sheets.
But I was about to break something to her that I had kept behind a steel firewall for a very long time.
"Naomi," I said, my finger reaching out to hit the cool-down button.
The treadmill began its long, gradual descent into a walk, and then finally stopped.
I dismounted, my thighs slick with sweat, the white towel draped over my neck.
I looked her dead in the eye, stripping away the executive shield. "I’m not into men."
Naomi froze, her apron strings half-tied around her waist. She blinked once, twice, her brain attempting to process the data packet I’d just dropped into her lap. The silence stretched between us for five long seconds while the butter in the kitchen cupboard practically sweated on its own.
"What you mean you’re not into men?" Naomi asked, her brow furrowing as she pulled the knot tight at her hip.
"Child, don't play with me this early. I’ve seen you dating men before.
I remember that tall, wealthy-looking broad-shouldered man from the hedge fund—what was his name, Julian?
He used to send those massive arrangements of orchids up here every Tuesday like clockwork. He looked like money and stability."
"Yeah," I said, reaching into the sub-zero refrigerator and pulling out a tall glass bottle of alkaline water. I cracked the seal, taking a long, measured gulp before leaning my lower back against the marble island. "I dated them because that’s what the board expected to see on the red carpets. It was corporate choreography, Naomi. It looked good for the stock price. But the truth? I much prefer the company of a woman. It’s always been that way, since I was a teenager in college. "
Naomi stood there for a beat, her gaze wandering from my face down to her own apron, and then a slow, hilarious realization seemed to dawn on her. She took a step back, her hands flying to her hips, her eyes wide with a dramatic sort of terror.