“What if my future wife passes out from low iron?” he’d grin. “Can’t have that, now can we?”
Honestly? I never really got why Zeus liked me.
He was six-two, sharp jaw, power in every step. Name carried seven. Cash flowed like wine.
And me? Just some waitress with no family, no name, and a whole lot of pride.
But once he made up his mind, nothing—and I mean nothing—could move him.
I still remember that Christmas Eve he brought me to meet his parents. I was stiff as a board in my knock-off wool coat, holding a plastic-wrapped chocolate cake I bought with tip money.
His parents were cold but polite. The kind of polite that makes your skin crawl.
When dinner ended, one of the maids whispered something to his dad, and he tapped Zeus’s arm with his hawk-like fingers.
“Come,” he said.
I sat alone in that glittering room, feeling like a stain on their marble floor. Then I heard his voice from the hall.
“She knows who you are, doesn’t she? What do you think a girl like that wants from you? A gold digger! She has nothing to offer—no name, no bloodline!”
It felt like someone punched me in the lungs.
Then—bam. A door slammed.
Zeus stormed back in, jaw clenched tight, grabbed my hand like he was ready to burn the whole damn place down.
“We’re leaving!” he said.
“Zeus—” his Dad roared, “Walk out that door and you’re done. Don’t expect a dime. Don’t call. Don’t even think about this family ever again!”
He froze at the door for just a second. Then turned, grabbed the sad little cake from the table, and tossed it right at his feet.
“Then I disowned myself!” he growled.
The streets outside were dead quiet, snow crunching beneath our boots. Subway had stopped. Taxis were ghosts. We walked across the overpass to some budget hotel, wind screaming through the city like it was trying to rip us apart.
All around us, windows glowed warm, like distant stars. But none of those lights were mine.
I kept my eyes on the sidewalk and whispered, “Let’s break up, Zeus.”
He said nothing.
“Zeus, I—”
He yanked down his coat zipper, wrapped it around both of us, and pulled me into him. His arms locked tight around my waist like if he let go, I’d slip into the night.
Then, quiet and fierce against my skin, he said:
“Savannah Smith, I swear on my name—I’ll give you a home. No matter what it costs me.”
I smiled bitterly.